Uproar, hullabaloo, ruckus, or pure pandemonium. Whatever you want to call it, that was undoubtedly the atmosphere in a packed theater, full of excited people clamoring for the best seats to see a story they’ve already seen dozens of times: Disney’s live-action remake of The Little Mermaid. That energy is fitting, since the same amount of fuss has been surrounding The Little Mermaid for the better part of five years. Yes, that’s half a decade, for those keeping track of how long racist “fans” have been petitioning to have a white actress in the lead role of Ariel the mermaid in place of star Halle Bailey.
Those controversies—some completely unfounded (casting a Black Ariel), some impossible to ignore (a string of preview clips where next to nothing was visible; updated song lyrics)—set some gargantuan expectations for The Little Mermaid to meet, when it hits theaters May 26. If the film failed to live up to the grandeur of the beloved original, animated iteration, it would be leverage for the internet’s most vile talking heads to racistly crow about schadenfreude. A lousy movie would also be bad news for the House of Mouse, as Disney’s track record for their live-action remakes hasn’t exactly been sparkling.
How truly gratifying, then, that The Little Mermaid splashes salt water into the eyes of its detractors. The film is far from a mere remake; it expands the universe of the original movie, with a sprawl that jumps off the screen and directly into its viewers’ hearts. The charm of the original doesn’t just remain intact, it’s augmented tenfold. Some new songs and shaky visual effects may not feel so seamless when jammed into an already bloated runtime. But even when its pacing stumbles, The Little Mermaid remains magical, thanks largely to the brilliance of Bailey, who is destined to bring this iconic role to a new generation.
As the Disney logo reminds us before the film begins, the company has been at this for an entire century. It’s almost enough to prompt distaste before the actual movie starts; 100 years of magic, and Disney is languishing in an era of remakes, just to ensure a consistent revenue stream? It’s bleak, but easy enough to forget the second The Little Mermaid delivers that opening grand shot of Prince Eric’s (Jonah Hauer-King) fishing vessel, crashing over the sea. His royal highness, his loyal footman Grimsby (Art Malick), and his fellow sailors all patter on about the dangers of mythical merpeople, who lure sailors to death with a siren song so enchanting, it can make any man fall in love.
The live-action film is ever so slightly more faithful to Hans Andersen’s centuries-old fable, filling in narrative gaps glossed over by the original film. Prince Eric lives in an island kingdom, which is falling behind the rest of the world’s progress, as its sailors are plagued by shipwrecks when they try to venture out to expand their horizons. The storms that destroy these ships sow discord between the island’s inhabitants and the creatures of the sea. The population on land believes that the sea gods despise them, and vice versa, after a harpoon killed the wife of King Triton (Javier Bardem), ruler of all the earth’s oceans.
Besides this, the live-action film is, beat for beat, the same as the original, at least until its middle act. But despite these scenes being an inevitable retread, The Little Mermaid sets itself apart from its predecessor by ramping up both the suspense and the buoyant joviality of the memorable animated moments.
Triton’s favorite daughter, Ariel (Bailey), is defiant and determined, fascinated by the forbidden world at the surface of her underwater home. Striking scenes where Ariel and her best fish friend, Flounder (Jacob Tremblay), explore shark-infested shipwrecked waters, looking for earthly trinkets, are beefed up by excellent CGI. The stakes of their perilous journey feel far more nail-biting when the cartoonish shark from the original film is replaced by a lifelike, terrifying great white. It doesn’t hurt that Flounder is as cute as ever, either, despite his newfound photorealism—and the horrified mass hysteria that the first looks at his character triggered online.
If you’ve been a kid or have a kid, the chances are that you know The Little Mermaid’s story already, probably by heart. Ariel saves Prince Eric from a shipwreck, only to dash away before he can see her; Triton forbids his daughter from ever going to the surface again; and Ariel makes a pact with Triton’s sister, the sea witch Ursula (Melissa McCarthy)—exchanging her ethereal voice for a pair of legs for three days. Eric must fall for Ariel and seal the deal with true love’s kiss before sunset on the third day, or Ariel’s soul will belong to Ursula forever. There are no major changes in the live-action version, only additions that either unnecessarily distend the runtime, or help the fantasy feel more realized.
A couple of the superfluities come in the form of new songs, which range from just alright to downright grating. The best is “Wild Uncharted Waters,” an entry for Prince Eric, who didn’t have his own tune in the 1989 film, and now gets to live his pining-prince fantasy with a yearning song while he searches for the girl who rescued him. The worst, by far, is “The Scuttlebutt,” proof that Lin-Manuel Miranda—who was brought on to pen the lyrics to the new music—should be forced into early retirement. Scuttle, Ariel’s dopey, comedic relief seagull friend, is now voiced by Awkwafina, who lends her distinct rasp to a rap about the day’s gossip that would have Howard Ashman doing backflips in his grave.
But even sins that atrocious are forgivable when leveled against the beautiful, slightly updated arrangements of those unforgettable classics. The Little Mermaid has some of Disney’s all-time best original songs, and each one is performed either comparably, or better than in the animated feature. “Under the Sea” and “Kiss the Girl” are as infectious as ever, as performed by Daveed Digg’s Sebastian the crab. But most notable are “Part of Your World” and “Poor Unfortunate Souls,” which are as dazzling to see performed on-screen as they are to listen to.
McCarthy’s lack of trained vocal talent works in her favor, as she brings a hefty dose of cheeky impudence to Ursula’s talk-singing. There is nothing but pure confidence in McCarthy’s voice as she crescendos into the climax of “Poor Unfortunate Souls.” But it’s “Part of Your World” and its stunning reprise that bring the house all the way down.
Bailey’s voice is so heavenly, it’s no wonder this version of The Little Mermaid asserts that siren songs are more powerful than free will. Bailey’s slight, tonal imperfections—breathy ad-libs, and a growl on the tail end of a word—add a gorgeous, human depth and longing, making the songs entirely her own. Hearing Bailey’s version is one thing, seeing it is another entirely. If audiences the world over aren’t erupting in applause, I’ll give my soul to a sea witch.
But Bailey is equally sublime in the rest of the movie, holding the camera’s gaze like a natural, even when Ariel’s voice is gone and the actress can’t say a word. Hauer-King holds his own, too, especially while admiring the massive star shining brightly before him. He, Bailey, and McCarthy swim circles around Bardem’s one-note Triton, who unfortunately fails to match the humanity of Kenneth Mars’ original voice performance, on almost every level.
That’s not entirely a fault of Bardem’s, though. Some of The Little Mermaid’s underwater effects are difficult to settle into, proving there are still limits to what CGI technology can believably create. Some of the sequences on land don’t fare much better. Director Rob Marshall’s theatrical sensibilities are on full display, occasionally to the film’s detriment, when character wardrobe looks too costumey, and compositions become a bit too similar to a stage production.
That’s in contrast to the fantastical, virtuoso sequences at the film’s beginning and end. The live-action giant Ursula in the finale looks more like an apocalyptic sea monster than ever before, and is sure to haunt children’s nightmares until a second remake in 2074. But it’s that famous “Part of Your World” reprise I’m still stunned by. Ariel, climbing onto a rock jutting out of the ocean, on the precipice of her sheltered life about to change forever. “I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but I know something’s starting right now,” Bailey sings.
This reprise is made all the more effective by a live-action remake that gives Ariel so much more agency. She is no longer a fairy tale princess; she feels like an actual person. When Bailey serenades us, and the surf crashes up behind her, The Little Mermaid instantly sets a new bar for Disney’s remakes. It’s a moment even more powerful than the one in the already moving original, proving the worth of the film around it. This is how fantasy, imagination, and desire are spun into cinematic gold. The Little Mermaid might be a remake, but its updated story will instill a sense of wonder and majesty into a generation that so desperately needs a little bit of both.
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