Forget everything you thought you knew about Ariel. In The Little Mermaid (2025), director Kathryn Bigelow (Zero Dark Thirty) and star Scarlett Johansson dive headfirst into the stormy waters of action-fantasy cinema to reinvent the beloved tale — not as a whimsical singalong, but as a visceral odyssey of identity, sacrifice, and rebellion.

Scarlett Johansson commands the screen as Mira, a battle-hardened mermaid raised beneath a crumbling underwater kingdom ravaged by greed and betrayal. Longing to break free from the tyranny of her father and the suffocating traditions of her people, she makes a dangerous pact with the cunning sea witch Morrgana (Charlize Theron, in a delightfully menacing turn) to gain human legs — but at the cost of her siren voice, the very essence of her soul.
What follows is not a love story, but a warrior’s journey. Set against the backdrop of a war-torn coastal kingdom, Mira’s quest to adapt to life on land is framed by brutal sword fights, rogue pirate crews, and palace conspiracies. Her transformation from curious outsider to freedom fighter is nothing short of electrifying — think Gladiator meets The Shape of Water.

The film’s action sequences are breathtaking, blending fluid underwater combat with grounded, bone-crunching realism on land. One standout moment involves Mira leading a revolt of oceanic exiles through a flooded port city — a swirling dance of tridents, knives, and crushing tidal waves choreographed with balletic brutality.
Yet beneath the adrenaline, The Little Mermaid never loses its emotional core. Johansson delivers a nuanced, emotionally raw performance, particularly in the film’s quieter moments — writing her thoughts in sand, silently watching the horizon, or struggling to connect in a world where her voice is gone. The tension between expression and silence becomes a haunting metaphor for gender, agency, and self-worth.
The chemistry between Mira and Prince Elian (played by rising star Jacob Elordi) is slow-burning and complex. He is no fairy tale savior — more of a reluctant leader haunted by the sins of his lineage. Their relationship is built not on infatuation, but mutual purpose and respect. Together, they challenge two broken worlds to build something new.

Visually, the film is a marvel. The underwater sequences shimmer with bio-luminescent beauty and decaying grandeur, while the surface world is painted in stormy grays and windswept cliffs. The costume and production design channel a kind of eco-steampunk aesthetic, blurring the line between fantasy and post-apocalyptic realism.
What sets The Little Mermaid (2025) apart is its mature thematic depth. This is a story about power — who holds it, who’s forced to give it up, and what happens when someone dares to take it back. It’s about identity not as something gifted or granted, but forged in fire and hardship. And it’s about voice — not just in the literal sense, but the right to speak, to fight, to be.
🎭 Final Verdict: 9/10
Bold, violent, and deeply affecting, The Little Mermaid (2025) is a fairytale forged for a new era. Scarlett Johansson redefines an iconic role, and the film dares to ask hard questions beneath its crashing waves. This isn’t about finding love — it’s about finding freedom.
🌊 “They silenced her voice. But they could never silence her will.”
Dive in. The sea has never been this fierce.