I've Heard the Mermaids Singing

Films in Focus

By Jonathon Saia

I've Heard the Mermaids Singing (Miramax, 1987) – Director: Patricia Rozema. Writer: Patricia Rozema. Stars: Sheila McCarthy, Paule Baillargeon, Ann-Marie MacDonald, Richard Monette, John Evans & Brenda Kamino. Color and B&W, Rated R, 81 minutes.

"To make something beautiful is to be beautiful forever."

It's about...well, I'm not exactly sure. I'm not sure the film knows. I've Heard the Mermaids Singing seems to be trying to make some kind of statement about art and Art and how artists find worth in their work, but it's all done in such a blissfully low key manner that it's hard to glean hard answers. Maybe it's not trying to give answers. Maybe it's just posing questions. Or at the very least, trying to showcase its lead actress. Which is more than enough reason to see the film. Hold that thought though. I'll get back to Sheila McCarthy in a few paragraphs.

OK, so the story follows Polly (McCarthy), a socially awkward recluse, as she temps for a curator. She has no art education or great interest for that matter in the subject, but needed a job so here she is. She is dreadfully ordinary, yet doesn't seem to mind. Or really even notice. She lives alone, but doesn't seem lonely. It's so refreshing to see a protagonist, especially a female protagonist, not wallowing in her own self-pity while searching for a man. Her philosophy is direct and self-aware: "Sometimes I think my head is like a gas tank. You have to be careful what you put into it or it may destroy the whole system." She holds no great dreams other than surviving. And taking photographs. But these photos are not for grandeur, not for others, but for herself. For her own pleasure. Her photos capture simple things, real life beauty that, like herself, is usually ignored. She tacks them up on her drab apartment walls and fantasizes elaborate scenes where she lives inside her photos. Polly makes Art for the purest of reasons: to create the world in which she wants to live.

But that begins to shift after a conversation with Gabrielle, her boss. Gabrielle (Baillargeon) doesn't want to just curate art. She wants to make it. To create one universally revered piece of work to solidify a legacy and prove her worth. She shows her paintings to Polly. Polly is flabbergasted. They are beautiful. Radiant. The paintings seem to glow, in fact. These paintings must be seen. After Gabrielle has passed out on the couch, Polly decides to steal one. But not for herself. To help her boss overcome her shyness and achieve her dream of sharing her talent with the world.

In a somewhat contrived piece of business, an art critic stops by the office while Gabrielle is out, reviews the painting in the Times, and she is suddenly the newest genius on the block. This awakens Polly's curiosity to see if maybe her hidden talents are worthy of accolades. She sends Gabrielle an anonymous package hoping that her photos will speak for themselves so she can be featured in the next art show. Polly has latched onto Gabrielle as a role model, a mentor, and even a romantic object. Surely, she will see, as one artist to another, her potential. But Gabrielle thinks they are "simple-minded" – exactly what others had said about her own work before she made it big.

Since Gabrielle's opinion has come to serve as her own, Polly is devastated. And feels betrayed. How could she not see her soul, her heart, her passion in the photos? We see for the first time Polly's pride in her work – which may have been the first time Polly even realized how much her photos meant to her – and that beneath her provincial charm, maybe she actually does long to be someone of note. Sadly, she is quick to give up, burning all of her photos and throwing her camera off the roof. Later, when Polly discovers Gabrielle is a fraud, that she has a ghost painter, she loses her sense of self and lashes out with unclear consequences.

If the film seems light on action, it's because it is. I've Heard the Mermaids Singing is really a character study of an unremarkable woman trying to find her way in a remarkable milieu. Though a Canadian production, it bears a resemblance to the European style of a-day-in-the-life films like Cleo from 5 to 7 (1962); the type of films that drown without a dynamic lead character at the helm. It's a unique film (with a confounding title) that rests on the talents of its leading lady to carry it through its somewhat dull and esoteric universe. And make no mistake about it: Sheila McCarthy is a revelation.

In her incredibly gifted hands, Polly is mousy without being pathetic, plain without being boring, and so full of specificity I wish she had existed in silent pictures. Take the scene in a restaurant. We notice the way she tries to sit at the Japanese table. The way she fumbles with her chopsticks plays like a reverse dinner roll scene from The Gold Rush (1925) or a much more subdued version of Ernest fumbling with his fork. I could have watched this scene unfold for an hour. There's the way she chugs her rum, maybe drinking for the first time, wanting to seem sophisticated. The way she wraps up her own comforter as a birthday gift for her boss. The way she narrates the film and somehow doesn't make it seem superfluous. The slow drain of disappointment when Gabrielle tells her her photos are no good. The subtle smile when she realizes her photos have the power to transport her to other worlds. Her offbeat charisma reads like Amy Poehler without the wink. McCarthy won the Best Actress Genie (Canada's version of the Oscars) for I've Heard the Mermaids Singing, her first film.