Review: The Little Mermaid breaks the surface
I first saw The Little Mermaid when I was three years old. (I’d never been to a movie theater before, and my parents kept the ticket stubs — sensing, I suppose, that their grubby little urchin was destined to grow into a leviathan of film obsession.) It went on to enjoy second-string viewing status among the dozens of Disney videocassettes in my childhood home. Somehow, the tale of young Ariel — a good-natured mer-creature who sets her heart on a pair of legs after falling for the rather shallow Prince Eric — never seized my imagination with the same force as, say, Peter Pan (in which a shadow breaks free of its body and Captain Hook serves high camp in burgundy and dastardly plumage) or One Hundred and One Dalmatians (i.e., Cruella DeVil in a billowing fur coat, green cigarette smoke trailing from a foot-and-a-half-long holder, cackling with Bankheadian abandon: “Anita, darling…!”).
But, like many millions of children before and after me, I must confess that The Little Mermaid’s influence is elemental: can anyone today under the age of forty-five not immediately feel their heart soar at the tinkling of its melodies? Who among us born in the years immediately preceding the new millennium can imagine life without the sight of Ariel belting out a song from atop that rock, ocean waves pounding like a symphony behind her?
Clearly, the Walt Disney Company is well aware of their property’s cultural ubiquity, and have conspired to dish out yet another of their less-than-inspired live action remakes. In this new version, pop star Halle Bailey takes on the role of Ariel, original composer Alan Menken co-writes a few new songs with Lin-Manuel Miranda, and Hollywood’s standby musical manufacturer Rob Marshall (Chicago, Into the Woods, Mary Poppins Returns) steps in to supervise an extensive team of perfectly self-sufficient animators.
I doubted that I’d have that good a time — partly because of Mr. Marshall, but also, after all, isn’t this kind of movie meant for kids? Turns out I had no need for concern: The Little Mermaid is a charming, engaging fable that works in archetypal traditions with freshness and energy. It moved me.
Or, more accurately, she moved me — because the real talking point here is Ms. Bailey. The singer debuts in her first lead acting role at the helm of a musical drama involving extensive CGI work alongside nonexistent scene partners; that’s a harrowing assignment for even the most seasoned of pros. Yet Bailey breezes through it all with the command of Streisand in Funny Girl or Julie Andrews in Marry Poppins. Her delivery of “Part of Your World” is revelatory: she flows around Ariel’s secret cavern of human treasures, rising towards the water’s surface and stretching out her hand. (“Wouldn’t I love to explore that shore up above…?”) Her timing, her intuitive powers are seamless. It’s as if she was born for this moment, as if she’d been preparing for this role her whole life.
And then Ms. Bailey’s voice breaks. Her face softens, but her eyes continue to shine. It is an operatic feat; she is as sure in her conviction, and as strong in her ability, as any actor-singer to ever grace the screen. She is a star.
The supporting cast, sadly, leaves something to be desired. Daveed Diggs and Awkwafina show flashes of inspiration in their voicework as Sebastian and Scuttle, Ariel’s respective crustacean and seabird sidekicks, while Bardem emits wafts of pathos as Trident and Noma Dumezweni is suitably stoic as Eric’s mother, Queen Selina. Part of what makes it difficult for these actors to be impactful, however, is the fact that they are not the film’s focus; the emphasis is on visual design — it is their ornate, animated surroundings that are meant to allure viewers. In a straight-up cartoon, the “performers” and setting are of equal fabrication, and therefore seamless, whereas here the tangible human face is subsumed by digitized lighting and artificial strands of hair “hovering” in “water.”
Hiring Javier Bardem to play King Trident is like hiring Greta Garbo to play Captain Marvel. A great actor is a spectacle, and I think Hollywood’s ever-deepening plunge into computer-generated dreamscapes — not to mention their apparent preference for AI over screenwriters — is illustrative of how little they value or, frankly, need someone like Mr. Bardem.
The one player, other than Ms. Bailey, who comes through with real panache is Melissa McCarthy as Ursula. Personally, I’m in the camp that believes a drag queen should’ve been cast in the role (Jinkx Monsoon, anybody?), but McCarthy steps into her tentacled, phosphorescent suit with slippery commitment and hints of Grand-Guignol acerbity. Could she have hammed it up a bit more? Sure. Been a bit more terrifying? Absolutely. But, this is a children’s movie, and it behooves Disney to frighten kids with anything more intimidating than a beach ball. Or Jonah Hauer-King’s singing voice.
In full transparency, I was a bit distraught when I saw this new The Little Mermaid, and I don’t doubt that this had some impact on how I responded to it. Purity of story is a deeply gratifying thing when you feel as though your own life has become sullied or incoherent. And that’s what this movie is: a testimonial on the importance of integrity. Don’t give away your voice — even for love.
This is good to hear whether you’re heartbroken, or three years old. I’m glad we have this eternal record of Halle Bailey saying it.
