Sirens Call. Mermaids and All.

One of the dolls¹trans woman was visiting for the weekend, so I showed her the trailer for Sirens Call (2025), Miri Ian Gossing and Lina Sieckmann’s mesmerising new film about a siren returning to Earth. Before long, we were deep in conversation about all the mermaid media we’ve loved over the years.

From corny classics like Splash (Ron Howard, 1984) to Dennis Hopper’s haunting debut in Night Tide (Curtis Harrington, 1961) to the gloriously violent revenge thriller Mermaid Legend (Toshiharu Ikeda, 1984) — not to mention Cher’s unforgettable New Year’s costume in Mermaids (Richard Benjamin, 1990) — we found ourselves fully immersed in an aquatic reverie.

Our  late-night YouTube journey took us through songs inspired by these mythical sea creatures — Tori Amos’ Siren from the Great Expectations (Alfonso Cuarón, 1998) soundtrack, This Mortal Coil’s haunting “Song to the Siren”, and even a nostalgic detour with “Under the Sea” from The Little Mermaid (Ron Clements and John Musker, 1989).

What is it about this ancient mythology that continues to captivate us? Sirens Call doesn’t attempt to answer that question — nor is it concerned with our fascination. Instead, it carves out its own eerie, singular space — a travelogue-like portrait of a real-life siren  — contributing to an ever-growing canon often shaped by the male gaze. Yet, Sirens Call reclaims the myth, transforming it into a symbol of empowerment, agency and metamorphosis.

Una (Gina Rønning), the film’s enigmatic nomad, immediately invites comparisons to The Man Who Fell to Earth (Nicolas Roeg, 1976) and Species (Roger Donaldson, 1995) — both stories of extraterrestrials struggling to adapt to human life. Early on, when asked to pose for a photographer, Una hesitantly responds, “Is taking pictures a friendly thing?” In her dreamworld, she sees herself as a mermaid, depicted in a shot of her lying on a bed with fins. But when the photographer asks her to move her legs closer to the camera, reality abruptly intrudes — her fins vanish, replaced by human legs, and an unsettled Una cuts the shoot short.

This moment becomes a simple but powerful commentary on bodily autonomy —the ability to see ourselves as we wish or do as we please. It’s one of many subtle instances where fantasy, reality, and politics seamlessly intertwine. As she journeys through an America on the brink of fascism, the film sustains a pervasive sense of unease, displacement and even danger. Una is vulnerable — still learning, adapting, and perhaps uncomfortable, in her human body.

Easily one of the most visually striking films at the festival this year, Sirens Call is a constant pleasure to look at. Its aquatic fantasy seeps into nearly every sequence — even in seemingly mundane moments, like when Una arrives in Florida and, while in a parking garage, is framed through an aquarium. Bathed in the expected color palate of mermaid lore— neon turquoise, coral pink — the film seamlessly blends these elements, weaving a luminous, magical parallel reality for merfolk alongside the more ordinary, dreary world of humans.

“Just when I let go, to my surprise, others started gravitating toward me.” One of many insightful moments of voiceover, Una reflects on the diminishing returns of trying too hard to make friends — now, it’s time to simply be herself; this is how she finds her true family.

This marks the beginning of The Kin, the first sequence where the film shifts into more of a talking heads moment where we hear directly from Una and other merfolk on a range of intimate topics. They appear on screen, adorned in stunning, one-of-a-kind merlooks, illuminated in shifting hues. As a community resistant to creeping conservatism, their presence radiates a sense of openness — a queer-adjacent freedom to exist as they are. The water itself becomes a transformative force, particularly for disabled and other non-hegemonic bodies. One subject shares the pain of life on land, where her body is in constant distress, but in the water, she is able to simply float, liberated from that burden.

As Sirens Call reaches its climax, themes of community, shared values, rituals, dance, self-care and political awareness take center stage. Una’s journey becomes a collision of past, present and the future she has chosen for herself, blurring the boundaries between memory and transformation. The film never feels overstuffed, despite its many ideas. Instead, it masterfully balances calm and urgency, beauty and terror, light and darkness, with its many moving parts seamlessly converging. The result is a hypnotic, one-of-a-kind celebration of otherness — an invitation to embrace fluidity, resistance and the freedom to exist beyond imposed boundaries.