Reeder’s Movie Reviews: Mickey 17
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“You don’t look like you’re printed out. You’re just a person.”
In writer-director Bong Joon Ho’s new science fiction thriller, a film reveling in its comedic and philosophical excess, Mickey Barnes is eventually two persons. Happily for us, Robert Pattinson plays both of them.
It has been more than five years since the release of Parasite, Bong’s brilliant, Academy Award-winning dissection of class, status and survival in contemporary South Korea. Mickey 17 also embraces big themes: politics, religion and the very definition of humanity.
The screenplay has its roots in Edward Ashton’s 2022 novel, Mickey 7, a narrative fusion of immortality and an “exploitative social structure,” to quote the author. Bong actually drafted his script before the book’s publication. He added ten more iterations of the title character, and he almost immediately recruited Pattinson to head the cast.
Mickey Barnes is an “Expendable.” Because he desperately needs to escape money troubles on Earth, he proceeds to volunteer for an assignment he doesn’t fully grasp at first, relocating to a distant, icy planet called Niflheim. (In Norse mythology, Niflheim is “The World of Darkness.”) There he assumes the physical risks the more privileged class can avoid. He dies repeatedly, in awful, sacrificial ways, only to be “printed out” again with most of his consciousness and memory intact. Even as the subject of a cosmic joke and the regular tenant of a herky-jerky remapping machine, he embraces his disposability. The question “How does it feel to die?” becomes a refrain throughout the movie.
Kenneth Marshall rules this cruel, mostly unforgiving outpost. As portrayed by Mark Ruffalo (an Oscar nominee for Poor Things), he registers as a combination of authoritarian thug and charismatic televangelist. His unsubtle brand of populism, enhanced by a televised talk show, keeps the cult-like inhabitants of this dark, foreboding place enthralled. Toni Collette (an Oscar nominee for The Sixth Sense) plays his wacky yet controlling wife, Ylfa; she has a passion for sauces–yes, sauces, made of all manner of dubious ingredients. (In Old Norse, Ylfa can mean “wolf” or “bully.”) When they pose an existential threat to the indigenous population–“creepers,” with looks inspired by croissants, armadillos, and puppies in clothes, according to Bong–they invite a fate more Greek than Nordic.
You might not think so, but this cacophonous picture has a heart. Mickey’s brave, loyal, sometimes silly girlfriend, Nasha (Naomi Ackie), stands by her man, over and over again. In one poignant moment, she sits with him while he awaits another death and replication episode. Their relationship helps to focus a dense, fragmented story.
Most importantly, Robert Pattinson offers another insightful performance as the lead character–actually, two characters, since he embodies two versions of himself when Mickey is recreated prematurely. One is naive, resigned, living and dying in the moment, delivering deadpan witticisms. The other is cynical, clever and calculating. Knowing that Bong permitted Pattinson to refine his own (strange) voices and ad lib many of Mickey 18’s lines makes the result even more impressive. It rivals, if not surpasses, his work in David Cronenberg’s Cosmopolis (2012), the Safdie Brothers’ Good Time (2017), Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse (2019), and Claire Denis’ space-set High Life. We can look forward to his return as The Batman in 2027.
In addition to Parasite, Bong Joon Ho has indulged his penchant for social themes, black comedy, imaginative creatures, directorial flair and empathic storytelling in a series of memorable productions, from the neo-noir police procedural Memories of Murder (2003) to the science fiction thriller Snowpiercer (2013), his English language debut. Once again here, he demonstrates a keen and disciplined eye for spaces (especially interior), angles, frames and levels. When vibrant colors appear in this murky setting, they pop. When genres collide, they explode.
Honestly, Mickey 17 could have benefitted from more subtlety and balance. The political dimension of the story–even the deeply humane epiphany and climax–would be more on point were it less over the top. The entire story would resonate more if the often broad comedic strokes had not painted over some of the philosophical elements. All the same, Bong Joon Ho is a confident, accomplished filmmaker, and Mickey Barnes is “dying” to entertain you.
