SXSW 2025: Mermaid

“Mermaid” is a bizarre but deeply human tale of loneliness, obsession, and the strangest kind of love story ever set in Florida.

For those familiar with Tyler Cornack’s feature debut, 20202’s wildly irreverent and hilarious Butt Boy, a film highly praised by John Waters himself, you’ll no doubt be eager to take the bait for Cornack’s highly anticipated follow-up.

You may be somewhat prepared for how weird Mermaid is but will likely be blindsided by how truly touching it is as well—a delightfully strange genre mashup of horror, romance, humor, and human drama.

A wildly fun cold opening introduces us to a man (played by Tom Arnold) partying alone on a boat at night. He’s celebrating a big win in his divorce case. Hearing a commotion coming from the lower deck, he goes to investigate, coming face to face with a ferocious sea creature. Right off the bat, we’re treated to gnarly effects combined with gorgeous cinematography.

The title screen tells us that this film is “A Love Letter to Florida.”

If that sounds snarky or tongue-in-cheek, I assure you, it’s not. Writer/director Cornack grew up in Florida, and he’s adamant this film is, in fact, a heartfelt love letter to the state—a love letter to the diverse culture and the characters that often feel larger than life.

More importantly, MERMAID is a love letter to contradictions and the vast landscape of the human experience.

Yes, there is considerable ugliness, but there’s also extraordinary beauty. Yes, there is much weirdness, hilarity, and WTF insanity. But there’s also tremendous sincerity and devastating emotional beats that really resonate.

That’s a description apt for this film and for life itself.

Our main character himself, Doug (Johnny Pemberton; Fallout, Superstore), is a walking contradiction. He’s at once a pathetic mess of a man who is easy to write off while simultaneously being deeply relatable and sympathetic.

A socially awkward Percocet-addicted Floridian, Doug’s life is crumbling around him.

He’s not good with people, yet he’s a sensitive soul who writes poetry to express his feelings. He’s a fish expert who has just been fired from his job as a feeder at a tank room in a strip club, a job as fittingly weird as the rest of the world he inhabits.

Doug also has an adorable young daughter, Layla (Devyn McDowell), the result of a one-night encounter with his frustrated ex (Nancy McCrumb), who is now married to the wealthy and well-meaning but dopey Keith (played by the hilarious Kevin Nealon).

Though his heart may be in the right place, it’s clear that Doug is far from the best role model or responsible parental figure.

To make matters worse, he owes some very bad people money. When his dad’s dastardly friend Ron (Robert Patrick) shows up at his house with his goon to make scary threats, Doug feels trapped in a quagmire of hopelessness with no way out.

Lost and alone, he drives his boat out far from shore with a plan to end his suffering. But his destiny changes when he spots an injured mermaid and decides to take her home to nurse her back to health.

Fittingly, he names the creature Destiny (played by dancer Avery Potemri, who delivers a mesmerizing physical performance beneath heavy makeup and prosthetics; her mostly silent portrayal is as gracefully beautiful as it is unsettling).

This mermaid is not the fair maiden of the sea we’ve come to expect from films like Little Mermaid and Splash.

No, this is a terrifying creature that looks dredged from the depths of the sea, sporting sharp fangs, scales, and corpse-like skin. She doesn’t sing a siren’s call or speak with a human voice; instead, she emits guttural screeches when she’s not sedated.

Despite her fearful appearance, Doug shows no apprehension. Instead, he feels an immediate kinship with her.

Soon, his feelings grow, and he starts to imagine they’re in a relationship—dancing with the tranquilized creature in his arms, laying next to her in the bath, putting her in his bed, and freely sharing his inner thoughts and torment with her.

It’s a twisted take on The Shape of Water with an unrequited romance.

We watch Doug desperately cling to some sense of connection—a connection he can’t have with a human—a sense of purpose, belonging, and understanding that has eluded him his entire life.

There’s an uncomfortable intimacy and realness to Doug’s cramped bathroom, adding pathos and heartbreak to the scenes where he tries to communicate with Destiny while she lies drugged in his tub.

The situation quickly escalates into a hilarious and harrowing adventure as Doug faces a series of wild obstacles on his date with Destiny.

As she gains strength, the mermaid’s presence becomes more menacing. Yet, so, too, does Doug’s devotion to her—a devotion that is tested as his secret gets discovered.

Just when you think it can’t get any weirder or wilder, it absolutely does, taking viewers on a thrilling ride that never telegraphs where it’s headed.

Horror fans will undoubtedly appreciate the incredible practical effects and creepy mermaid makeup. There’s also no shortage of brutality and bloodshed. Though, it’s just as funny as it is ferocious, just as sweet as it is sinister.

Shot on location, the film feels like Florida, with its neon colors and sun-scorched scenery. It’s gorgeous and grotesque at once, perfectly embodying the beach bum aesthetic in production and costume design.

The story also feels like Florida; it’s weird, original, uncompromising—messy but magical.

No matter how outrageous things get, Cornack plays it straight.

In his interviews, he references his desire to take things to the edge of silliness while keeping them anchored in authenticity, always reeling things back in before they go completely over the edge into absurdist humor.

That sense of realness amidst the chaos gives Mermaid its heart.

This is much more than a monster movie, much more than a tragic romance or a dark and demented fairytale.

Doug is a man constantly left holding all the wrong cards, with no idea how to play his next hand. He feels like an unlovable failure in a grief-stricken fugue state. As he loses hope in salvation, he realizes he might be able to save himself by saving someone (or something) else.

Mermaid may be a love letter to Florida, but the film is also easy to read as a love letter to the misfits of the world.

It’s a heartfelt tribute to the misunderstood and lost souls desperately looking for meaning and purpose in a cruel and alienating world.

If it sometimes seems like Destiny mocks you at every turn, Mermaid—much like its titular character—is likely to seduce you with its peculiar yet singular and undeniably intriguing charms.