I recently had the privilege of watching “The Little Mermaid” with two youngsters who were seeing it for the first time. And, naturally, since then I have watched “The Little Mermaid” with these same two little ones three more times (as you do.) It’s no secret that I already love this movie; that I identified with it at an early age, since the pronunciation of my first name is pretty close to Ariel’s, and since we’re both self-absorbed, ballad crooners (though, to be fair, I’m an alto, thank GOD); and also, that I have every word of the movie memorized. I’ve sung “Part of Your World” at karaoke, and only halfway to being drunk, at that.

But, like everything I truly love, “The Little Mermaid” deserves to be subjected to intense criticism. Here are a few to start:

1. I’m really perplexed by the anatomy of the mermaid. Let’s start with breathing. We’re to assume that she’s human from the waist up, which means she probably has human (mammalian) lungs. Fish, obviously, don’t have lungs, they have gills, which work by a system of countercurrent gas exchange, whereby oxygen-rich water flowing in one direction over the gill filaments diffuses into the blood vessels, which then carry that oxygen to the heart. In other words, the exchange of oxygen is directly from water to blood vessels, without the need for respiration, a lung system, or a diaphragm. But we’ve all heard the sustainability of tone and volume that Ariel possesses: no way is that merbitch doing all that belting without the use of a diaphragm, or some analogous muscle to create pressure differences inside her chest cavity. But if she had lungs, at first inhalation of seawater she would not only implode due to internal pressure, but, assuming she lives in the ocean (saltwater), due to differences in electrolyte concentration, fresh water would rush out of her organs and tissues to try to dilute to hypertonic water now inside her lungs (not to mention the hypertonic environment all around the outside of her body), and all her organs and skin would shrivel up and she’d be poisoned by excess Na+ and Cl-.

What seems obvious to me is that merpeople have some sort of hybrid internal osmoregulation system, in which case, we humans should be doing our best to harpoon and dissect them in the name of science.

2. Another anatomy point: how do mermaids go to the bathroom? I guess they have some sort of anal opening in their scaly tail, but that raises another problematic issue. Fish excrete their wastes in the form of ammonia, which has high water solubility but is incredibly toxic to humans. So it’s unlikely that the bottom half of the merperson would be carrying around all this ammonia which would be toxic to the top, human half.

3. One more anatomical point: I’m interested in the social norms of merculture, specifically those that dictate the need for merfemales to cover their breasts at all times. It seems to be only the breasts, for Ariel and all her sisters don’t ever wear anything covering their shoulders or midriffs. If we’re to go by human culture as an analogy, this is due to the viewing of breasts as a sexual organ, that is, the vessel that provides milk to newborn merlings. However, mermaids can’t possibly be mammals! There doesn’t seem to be any possibility of live birth, given the lack of a birth canal and the fact that most fish eggs are externally fertilized (due to the aquatic environment). Thus, it’s unlikely that Ariel’s breasts produce milk. So why the covering of them specifically?

4. So Ariel becomes human from the waist down, and, since this is for the purposes of heterosexual mating conquest, we’re to assume that she becomes an anatomically accurate human female from the waist down…and the things she’s the most excited/curious about are her new legs? Highly, highly doubtful.

Still, on the whole, a lovable movie, if you can manage to suspend your disbelief for 70 minutes. Also, Scuttle has some truly hilarious lines. I always thought that bird was funny when I was a kid, but it turns out that he’s a true comedic genius. Oh, and the infamous “priest boner frame” has been removed from the newest edition.

Finally, a present made for me by the two little girls who enabled me to become re-well-versed in this movie:

The older one (age 4) asked me what I was supposed to do great on, and I replied, “I have a test on Saturday.”

Her: But why?

Me: It’s a test I have to take if I want to become a doctor.

Her: But why?

Me: [sigh]