Mermaid Legend (Frightfest 2024) review

In the late 1960s, the Japanese film industry was struggling, hurt by the increasing popularity of television and the constant influx of Hollywood films to satisfy an ever-present American audience. Japanese films seemed tired and out of ideas, so budgets were cut and the rise of exploitation cinema began. Many turned to violence, while others (particularly Nikkatsu and their Roman Porno films) embraced nudity, but it was Toei that blended the two, releasing a wave of action films, mostly featuring female protagonists – sometimes with nudity, but always with violence.

This gave rise to such over-the-top films as Sex & Anger (1973), The Stray Cat Rock (five films made between 1970 and 1971) and Zero Woman: Red Handcuffs (1974). It would make stars of Reiko Ike, Meiko Kaji and Miki Sugimoto, and while others did their part to revitalize the local film industry (see also Shinichi “Sonny” Chiba and Shintaro Katsu), nothing sells better than sex and violence, and these films had plenty of it.

By 1984, the Japanese film industry was once again in danger of collapse, this time due to mismanagement and spiraling costs. The system that had produced so many great films and huge stars was in deep trouble, and it wasn’t helped by Japan’s focus on consumer and electronic goods. Who had time for art when there was money to be made from Walkmans? Fortunately, that didn’t stop many from trying, and one of those directors was Toshiharu Ikeda, who took the basic pattern of pinky violence and wove a story that reflected the climate in Japan at the time. Big business was the way forward and the old ways were being tossed out – whether it was making ever smaller microchips or investing in the future of nuclear power, nothing could stand in the way of progress, not even lives.

Legend of the Mermaid (a retrospective UK premiere at Frightfest this year ahead of a wider release later this year) is a rarity in that it’s a film that both exploits and rewards its audience. Murder and corruption are everywhere, but there’s also an anarchic feel to it, largely due to the use of handheld cameras on every occasion, but also the pace at which it develops once it does get going – despite it taking a while to get there. Don’t take that as a negative, though, because rather than calling the build-up to our revenge tale “slow,” a more apt description would be “considered.” We’re taking our time with those most affected by the decisions of the scheming rich, who are deprived not just of their livelihoods, but in some cases, their lives.

It is at this point that it is necessary to point out that – Legend of the Mermaid does not shy away from the vulgarity of revenge. Those already familiar with such films from Japan will be aware of the constant use of rape and sexual violence, but anyone new may find this excessive and crude. However, if this is given the same credibility as, say, I spit on your grave/Women’s Dayor even Thelma and Louisethen there is a purpose – a disgusting and bloody purpose, but a purpose nonetheless.

Mari Shirato excels as our scorned wife – one who seeks revenge after witnessing her husband’s murder, only to discover how deep the cesspool of murder and corruption runs. Her dedication is far greater than many of these films warrant, but it is her performance that Legend of the Mermaid its unique appeal. This isn’t just Meiko Kaji looking cool or Reiko Ike being a whirling dervish of naked violence – Mari Shirato pours her soul into this, and it shows. So much so that she would go on to win Best Actress at the 6th Yokohama Movie Awards, along with Toshiharu Ikeda who won Best Director.

Legend of the Mermaid may not be typical of Japanese film, but it is a reflection of a time. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and this film channels that desperation to create a cacophony of violence so vulgar yet passionate that it’s hard to ignore.