By John David Back

I learned an important lesson watching The Little Mermaid I think was lost on me as a child: Being an undersea teenager with a beautiful singing voice who can talk to all sea creatures can be boring for some. Being a daughter of the king of all earthly water will also somehow do little to improve your outlook.

Ariel, the clearly millennial mer-girl, is never satisfied with her own lot. She always wants more than her deep-sea princess upbringing affords her. It’s a truly apocryphal coming-of-age tale about a red-maned, lovesick mermaid who can sing so well that someone decided to make a musical about it.

Lucky us!

Girls ages 3-8 everywhere in Cincinnati should rejoice. If you are a little girl, as I am not, you loved the hell out of this performance. There were fish puns, colorful costumes, enormous jellyfish floating, and every song you love from the classic 1989 movie. The comedic timing is great, the singing is pretty good, and it offers just enough flair to make the move to stage from cartoon acceptable.

Production photos of The 5th Avenue Theatre’s The Little Mermaid, photos by Mark & Tracy Photography

I would bet, though, that these little lasses never pried open a big plastic Disney VHS case, looking through the glass windows to make sure it was wound to the beginning, took the An American Tail tape out and shoved The Little Mermaid in. They probably watch it on Amazon Prime or Apple TV or, maybe, Blu-Ray. Regardless, they are all familiar with the story. 

Book of Mormon this performance is not. And it’s not meant to be. For me, it’s a walk down memory lane, a few laughs, and a chocolate-covered peanut butter cookie at intermission. For the little girl behind me, it’s a piercing squeal of laughter any time the crab Sebastian opens his crustacean mouth and drops a word of his smarmy Caribbean patois to chastise Ariel. She loved the hell out of it. I expected her to rush the stage and tackle the guy.

The most entertaining part of the musical comes as the French chef prepares fish for a dinner hosted by Prince Eric with the mute (but beautiful) Ariel with legs. The chef chops and slaps, jumps and yells, and sings about fish murder. Against my own desires I found myself laughing loudly, caught up in the moment.

If you want to have a good time, observe the pure joy that can only exist in the very young, go see The Little Mermaid. It’s not Hamilton, but it sure beats a lame evening of Netflix.

John David Back is a Cincinnati native who lives and works in OTR. He’s an avid reader and a mediocre writer who loves the experience of art and beauty. Tell him what he should experience and send fan mail to johndavidback@gmail.com.