A brief moment that determined the vastly different destinies, fortunes and identities of two sisters from Yunnan on the China-Myanmar border is at the heart of “The Unseen Sister,” a mix of crime suspense and family drama that takes time to warm up before coming home strongly in the second half. Adapted from elements of Zhang Yueran’s 2017 novella, “Sister” is the most commercial film yet by leading Taiwanese filmmaker Midi Z (“Nina Wu,” “Road to Mandalay”). After opening with a bang domestically on Oct. 26, “Sister” launched internationally in competition at the Tokyo Film Festival. As with much of Midi Z’s work, his latest film touches on aspects of his personal background. Of Chinese descent and born in Myanmar, Midi Z moved to Taiwan as a teenager and became a Taiwanese citizen. Interestingly, several of his credits on the end roll appear as “Midi Z, (Taiwan, China).” Though most of “Sister” takes place in Beijing, the emotional center of the story is located in Yunnan province on the border with Myanmar, long a hotspot for human trafficking and other criminal activities. The film’s central mystery centers on what precisely happened in Yunnan 17 years ago, when Qioa Yan (Zhao Liying) was separated from her unnamed elder sister (Xin Zhilei) and sent to live in Beijing. Since then, Yan has become a famous and troubled movie star (“I look haggard in real life but fine on camera,” she says). Tired of everything and wanting to part ways with longterm manager and would-be lover Shen (Huang Jue), Yan has succumbed to his pressure and accepted a role with painful parallels to her past. Fortune has not been so kind to Yan’s heavily pregnant Sister (named only as “Da” in credits, which translates as “big”), whose no-good gambler husband Liang (Dong Baoshi) owes a fortune to a vicious local gang. “Pay or die” is the message Sister receives from Liang’s creditors. Popular on Variety Part — but not all — of this mystery is solved when Sister shows up in Beijing at the same time Yan is receiving threatening texts claiming “I know your secret.” The reason this is not a happy reunion is laid out bare by Sister who looks around Yan’s fancy apartment and says “I gave everything to you.” Specifically, 17 years ago Sister surrendered her identity card to her younger sibling, whose birth was not registered and hidden from authorities for fear of economic penalties and job loss. Though never explicitly stated in the screenplay, it is obvious Yan was an unwanted second child during the time of China’s one-child policy. With Yan given her identity and secretly sent to Beijing, Sister has been left behind with no official identity and therefore no prospects of advancement in the mainstream of life. As interesting as these revelations are, it doesn’t initially produce the electric drama that might be expected. Much of the film’s first half revolves around extortion plots and kidnappings connected to hopeless husband Liang. The career-ending threat of Yan’s true (non-) identity being revealed is well established but isn’t treated with the gripping tension and suspense such high stakes call for. “Sister” finds much punchier and satisfying dramatic ground as the sisters gradually come to terms with a distant past neither had any control over, which set the pattern for lives that have been subsequently dominated by manipulative and coercive men. Continuing themes addressed with great anger and ferocity in Midi Z’s previous narrative feature “Nina Wu,” Yan finds the strength to reject being shoved in front of lecherous financial backers by Shen (the calm, smiling face of insidious coercive control, if ever there was one) and becoming part of his plan to make a fortune on the stock market. Sister’s realization that Liang doesn’t deserve her blind loyalty and the birth of her baby adds considerable heft to the tale, with questions over the newborn’s identity and uncertain future triggering a compelling series of life-changing events. Midi-Z’s impressive background in docudrama (“City of Jade,” “The Road to Mandalay” and “The Clinic”) comes to the fore in these sections, and in a lengthy flashback to Yunnan that sheds further light on the heartbreaking circumstances of Yan assuming her sister’s identity. Unlike the crime thriller elements that are just OK, there’s energy, urgency and a convincing naturalism when the focus is on Yan and Sister taking brave and sometimes dangerous steps to reclaim their right to self-determination. It’s here that lead performers Zhou and Xin also shine brightest, with both strongly registering the competing forces of fear and fierce determination driving their characters. Nicely shot by DP Florian J.E. Zinke in an unfussy style that’s complemented by Lim Giong’s subtle strings-based score, “Sister” codes its English subtitles in different colors. Lines spoken in Mandarin appear white, while yellow denotes Yunnan dialect. This clever approach adds to the drama, with the choice of language at several points revealing aspects of character and motivation that may otherwise have gone unnoticed. Though the story is fictional, the film concludes with text information about crimes committed and prison sentences handed out to various characters.