There are films that announce exactly what they are—and then there are films like MERMAID, from writer/director Tyler Cornack, that dare you to sit with something strange long enough to discover what lies beneath.
On paper, the premise alone sounds like a fever dream: a drug-addled Florida man named Doug finds an injured mermaid in the Gulf and, in his fragile, lonely state, begins to see her not as a creature… but as a girlfriend.
Yes. That kind of movie.
But here’s the thing—it works.
And it works because of Doug.
Played with disarming sincerity by Johnny Pemberton, Doug is bumbling, hapless, and chemically compromised, but never cruel. There’s an innocence to him—a sweetness—that immediately invites empathy. Even before the mermaid enters the picture, you understand the emotional void he’s trying to fill. By the time he finds Destiny, you don’t question his attachment—you feel it.
And that’s where Cornack shows real growth as a storyteller.
Following his earlier, gleefully twisted Butt Boy, MERMAID retains that offbeat sensibility but grounds it in something more human. This isn’t weird for the sake of weird. It’s weird with purpose.
Because Destiny is no fairy tale.
This is not Splash. This is not The Shape of Water. This is something far more feral.
With grotesque, vampiric teeth, erratic movement, and a tendency to spew black, tar-like bile, Destiny feels less like myth and more like a creature pulled from the depths of something unknowable. And yet—through careful prosthetic work, performance, and lighting—there are fleeting moments of unexpected beauty, a glimmer of something that Doug latches onto with desperate hope.
It’s uncomfortable. It’s absurd. And it’s strangely affecting.
What grounds all of this is Cornack’s commitment to character and place. Florida isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a living, breathing ecosystem of personalities. From beachside eccentrics to suburban oddities, the supporting cast feels pulled from lived experience rather than caricature, adding texture and authenticity to Doug’s world. A scene-stealing Robert Patrick, sporting a tan that pushes past George Hamilton territory into something almost surreal, is just one of many perfectly pitched notes.
Visually, the film leans into realism over romanticism. Working with cinematographer Joe Levy, Cornack resists the temptation to stylize the fantastical. Much of the film unfolds in cramped, sunlit interiors, where the proximity between Doug and Destiny becomes palpable—uncomfortable even. It’s tactile. Immediate. And very, very Florida.
Even the pacing mirrors Doug’s internal state—languid, slightly off-kilter, almost sedated—allowing the film to drift just enough to pull you into his perspective.
And then there’s the music, composed by Cornack himself. Melancholic and atmospheric, it underscores the film’s emotional undercurrent, quietly reminding us that beneath the absurdity lies something deeply sad.
Because MERMAID, for all its black goo and creature horror, is ultimately about loneliness.
About the stories we tell ourselves to survive.
About the connections we create—real or imagined—when faced with isolation.
And somehow, against every instinct telling you otherwise, it lands with something resembling…heart.
Not a conventional love story.
Not even a logical one.
But in its own strange, offbeat way, a sincere one.
And sometimes, that’s more than enough.
Written and Directed by Tyler Cornack
Cast: Johnny Pemberton, Avery Potemri, Kevin Nealon, Kirk Fox, Julia Larson, Devyn McDowell, and Tom Arnold with Robert Patrick and Kevin Dunn
by debbie elias, 04/05/2026
MERMAID is in select theatres on April 8, 2026.
