Name: The King's Daughter
Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Family
Released: 2022-01-21T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Pierce Brosnan, Kaya Scodelario, Benjamin Walker, William Hurt, Julie Andrews

The opening shot of The King’s Daughter lingers on Pierce Brosnan as Louis XIV, his piercing gaze fixed on a glowing mermaid trapped in a glass tank—an image that should be spellbinding but feels oddly flat. This misstep sets the tone for Sean McNamara’s 2022 fantasy-adventure, a film that aspires to blend historical intrigue with supernatural whimsy but stumbles under its own muddled ambition.

Based loosely on Vonda N. McIntyre’s novel The Moon and the Sun, the film transposes its source material into the decadent court of Versailles, where King Louis XIV (Brosnan) obsesses over immortality. His illegitimate daughter Marie-Josephe (Kaya Scodelario) discovers a mermaid captured by her father’s scientists, setting off a convoluted plot about stolen life force and moral redemption. The premise is ripe for visual spectacle—mermaids, grand ballrooms, and the opulence of the Sun King’s reign—but McNamara’s direction lacks the precision to make it sing.

The film’s strongest moments come from its production design and costume work, which evoke the lavish excess of 17th-century France. The mermaid sequences, though sparse, offer fleeting glimpses of creativity, particularly in Fan Bingbing’s eerie, otherworldly presence. However, these flashes of potential are buried under a script that struggles to balance its historical and fantastical elements. The narrative lurches between courtly drama and supernatural adventure without finding a cohesive tone.

Brosnan delivers a serviceable performance as Louis XIV, though his portrayal leans more toward campy villainy than the nuanced tyranny of historical figures like George Blagden’s Louis in Versailles. Brosnan’s presence adds gravitas to the role, but his performance often feels detached, as if he’s playing a caricature rather than a complex monarch. Scodelario fares better as Marie-Josephe, bringing a grounded sincerity to her role that anchors the film’s emotional core. Her character’s journey—from curious observer to defiant activist—is the heart of the story, and Scodelario’s performance elevates it with genuine warmth and conviction.

Supporting turns from William Hurt as Pere La Chaise and Julie Andrews (as the narrator) add gravitas but can’t compensate for the script’s structural weaknesses. Hurt, in particular, brings a quiet intensity to his role as the king’s confidant and moral compass, though his limited screen time prevents him from making a lasting impact. Andrews’ narration serves as a guiding voice throughout the film, but her presence feels more like a crutch than an enhancement, often explaining what the visuals should convey on their own.

The King’s Daughter suffers most from its identity crisis. It wants to be a swashbuckling adventure, a fairy tale, and a historical drama all at once—but none of these genres fully coalesce. The pacing is uneven, with key emotional beats undercut by abrupt tonal shifts. A scene where Marie-Josephe confronts her father about the mermaid’s fate, for instance, should crackle with tension, but the film’s commitment to its own stakes feels half-hearted. The narrative meanders through subplots involving courtly intrigue and scientific experimentation without ever fully committing to a central theme.

McNamara’s direction lacks the visual flair needed to elevate the material. The action sequences are staged with little dynamism, and even the mermaid’s mystical allure is undercut by awkward CGI and dimly lit set pieces. The film’s climax—a chaotic battle involving mermaids, soldiers, and fiery explosions—feels like a desperate attempt to manufacture excitement rather than an organic payoff. McNamara’s reliance on close-ups and quick cuts during action sequences creates a sense of disorientation rather than suspense.

The King’s Daughter isn’t without charm, but its flaws are too glaring to overlook. It’s a film that feels like it was tinkered with in post-production (as critics noted), resulting in a disjointed experience that never fully commits to its own vision. The mermaid sequences could have been haunting; the courtly intrigue could have been sharp. Instead, the film settles for a muddled mess of ideas that never gel into something cohesive.

The film’s target audience is another point of confusion. Marketed as a family adventure, The King’s Daughter includes themes of repentance and forgiveness (as noted by Movieguide), which might resonate with older children or teens. However, the slow pacing and lack of compelling action could easily bore younger viewers. Adults, meanwhile, may find the film’s historical inaccuracies and simplistic moralizing frustrating. The narrative’s reliance on supernatural elements also feels out of place in a historical setting, creating a disjointed viewing experience that struggles to find its footing.

In the end, The King’s Daughter is a missed opportunity—a film with promising ingredients but no clear direction.