Review: The Little Mermaid (2024) — A Folk Horror Retelling
The Little Mermaid (2024)
Country: Saint-Kitts and Nevis
Director/Writer: Leigh Scott
Executive Producer: Lee Beasley & Karinne Behr
Producer: Philipp Martinez
Starring: Lydia Helen, Mike Markoff, Jeff Denton
Supporting: Samuel Selman, Sean-Michael Argo, Winston Crooke, Wayne Gordon
sHe
Loves Me
There’s something deliciously haunting about this version of The Little Mermaid. Rather than shimmering scales and romance under the sea, we’re offered folk horror steeped in ancient myth — a mermaid as high priestess, devoted to a primordial sea god commanding storms and creatures of the deep, and an archaeologist stumbling upon her temple on a sun-drenched Caribbean isle.
The concept alone feels drenched in saltwater and secrecy, and I found it utterly fascinating. I adored that Prince Eric was reimagined as Dr. Eric Prince, the lead archaeologist on the dig — a clever inversion of the usual fairytale dynamic. It rooted the story in something more modern and mythic, blending the thrill of discovery with the dread of what should have remained buried.
There were subtle hints of the excavation revealing traces of knights who once journeyed across the world — a first-ever discovery of such relics in the Caribbean, described as “the doorway to the New World.” That thread alone could have blossomed into its own story, a tale of human ambition intersecting with myth.
In the early scenes, Aurora’s interactions with Dr. Prince had me wondering if they shared some connection across time — perhaps he had been a real prince in a past life — the very one whose actions triggered the sealing of the temple long ago. Many of the underwater sequences were brief but beautiful. Especially the mesmerizing exploration of the submerged ruins — a scene that hinted at a grander mythology lurking beneath the surface.
The island itself is pure ambience: sunlit balconies opening onto Caribbean vistas, vibrant local culture, and the spirit of the land suspended somewhere between dream and decay. Even small touches — like the vintage 20th century photograph of Aurora displayed in a museum on the island — added a quiet, charming touch of history and narrative depth.
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The story immediately grabbed hold, propelled by two striking plot points: a ritual slaughter to gain legs through sailors’ blood, and the archaeologist uncovering her existence when asked to verify ancient jewelry at a pawn shop — instantly setting a tone of intrigue and suspense.
From there, however, the narrative began to unravel slightly, developing in directions I wouldn’t have taken it — relying on tropes that didn’t merge with my initial predictions. It wrapped up nicely, however. I especially loved the subversion of the tragic ending — heavily foreshadowed, yet still managing to catch me off guard in a way that felt satisfying.
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Loves Me Not
As much as I admired the premise, the execution didn’t always reach the depth it promised. This was very much a B-Horror — a genre I am only beginning to explore. In fact, this might be the first I’ve watched, so some of its conventions were new to me, making the film feel both intriguing and unpredictable.
I may have just missed it, but I don’t think the film discussed the particular Caribbean island it was set on much. A richer connection to local legend — perhaps referencing Preacher’s Cave, or tying the priestess cult more tightly to another named location in the Caribbean — could have deepened the sense of place and mystery.
Budget-conscious choices were handled intelligently — particularly the subtle use of implication, as with the dig tools. Still, the ancient stone sealing the temple could have been more intricate — a tactile detail that might have elevated the sense of dread and awe.
The tone often wavered between dreamy and grindhouse. Some of the gruesome sequences, while effective in B-Horror terms, occasionally jarred against the ethereal, poetic half of the film. A subtler approach — less splatter, more siren-song — might have heightened the haunting quality.
Another weak tide was the characterization of Dr. Eric Prince. Despite looking the part, his demeanor at the first date left him less relatable than the curious, driven archaeologist one would hope to meet based on the storyline. That initial setup left his arc slightly adrift.
The mermaid herself, Aurora Bey, piqued my curiosity at the choice of her name. The surname is “a topographic name for someone who lived by a mill stream”. It’s paired with a first name common in fairy tales. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was some deeper mythological significance behind it.
As someone deeply invested in narratives, I wish the mythology had been explored more. There were clear echoes of Undine legends — which I loved — but this film only skimmed the surface of the ocean.
Final
Thoughts
In the end, The Little Mermaid (2024) is a beautifully imagined concept buoyed by atmosphere and ambition that sometimes drifts in its execution. Its fishbones are strong — eerie, folkloric, and filled with creative promise.
For lovers of fairy tale retellings that dare to dream differently, oceanic horror, and folk myth brought to life, it’s worth a watch — if only to glimpse the haunting beauty of what could have been.
