The mermaid is shrouded in mystery and menace. In most folklore, the world over, it is a symbol of the human’s tumultuous relationship with the sea, the visual embodiment of the ocean’s alluring yet dangerous and unpredictable nature. She is found exploiting her supernatural beauty and bewitching song in order to lure weak-willed sailors and seaside dwellers to their deaths.
Set in late Victorian times on the coast of Cornwall, this polished short tells the story of a fisherman’s wife, Betty (Beatie Edney). She has the medical profession up in arms for curing a patient of tuberculosis. We find Betty in her ornate living-room being interrogated by a doctor, her cousin Gregory (played by the director himself), sent to investigate what he suspects her illegal practice of medicine. Betty begins to disclose the events that led to her notoriety as a local sorcerer and healer. These include the dealings of her late husband Lutey (Simon Armstrong) with a duplicitous mermaid who grants him a pearl comb with magical healing powers. The gift, however, is caveated by a human sacrifice, a male blood-relative for the creature to feast on every nine years. An unconvinced Gregory becomes infuriated by what he thinks is a decoy story, seeking to uncover the sinister goings-on in Betty’s house, only for the revelations to prove detrimental.
The mermaid is governed by her carnal urges, depicted as the man-eating femme fatale. Betty is the highly intelligent woman relegated to housewife. He downplays her attributes in order not to outshine the men. This is the film’s attempt to reckon with the period’s patriarchal structures. A slight over-reach when it is suggested that Betty was one of the Edinburgh Seven – the real story of the first ever female students to study medicine in Britain but had their degrees rescinded. Perhaps more obvious is Gregory’s overall dismissiveness of Betty, a telling quote of his: “the public is more scared of an educated woman than of a witch”.
The production values are impressive, from the colloquial Cornish touches in dialogue (delivered by a stellar cast), and the pristine period details all the way to to the slick and tasteful special effects, most notably a very convincing mermaid. The editing and pacing make for a captivating narrative that balances the fantastical, the disturb and the deadpan comedy with great finesse. This weird and wonderful realm in this dreary Cornish corner of the world, rich in folkloric paraphernalia and clandestine characters is conjured so vividly and succinctly. Cook’s bold vision has paid off; refining, truncating and meticulously crafting his big visual ideas into an accomplished short.
Despite of or conceivably because of its subject matter, there’s a comforting, familiar sensation with Pearl Comb. One that is reminiscent of anthology series from decades past. Specifically period episodes from shows such as Dr Who, Rod Sterling’s The Twilight Zone or the TV adaptation of the Roald Dahl’s Tales of the Unexpected. A peculiar sequence of events lead up to a delightfully disturbing climax, all underscored by a dry sense of humour.
The Pearl Comb has been gaining traction, picking up a slew of awards the past year and it has now been shortlisted for the Action Live Shorts Academy Award.
