The Mermaid (2016)

The Mermaid is Stephen Chow at his best: a wildly imaginative romantic comedy that slides from slapstick absurdity to genuine tenderness without ever losing its buoyant, big-hearted spirit. It’s a candy-colored fantasy with a sharp little sting, using its mermaid premise to sneak in an environmental fable while still prioritizing laughs, whimsy, and that swoony feeling of two mismatched souls colliding. The movie’s charm comes from how earnestly it commits to its silliness—one moment you’re caught off guard by a bizarre gag, the next you’re surprised to find the romance landing with real sweetness. If you don’t enjoy broad, cartoonish humor or you’re sensitive to bursts of violence later on, it may not be your tide—but if you’re on the fence, it’s an enchanting crowd-pleaser with more heart than you’d expect.

Stephen Chow’s The Mermaid is clearly trying to mash up broad slapstick, a fairy-tale romance, and a not-so-subtle environmental message into one crowd-pleasing package. When it works, it’s energetic and weird in that Chow way, with a few genuinely funny bits and a sweetness that peeks through the chaos. But the tone lurches between cartoon comedy and real violence, the CGI can look distractingly rubbery, and the romance often feels more like a plot requirement than something you’ll actually buy. If you’re expecting a smooth, heartfelt fantasy love story or polished effects, you may leave irritated; if you’re fine with messy, noisy, sometimes clumsy comedy that prioritizes gags and satire over coherence, you’ll probably have a better time.