In Mickey 17, Bong Joon Ho's latest film, we see the acclaimed director return to the well-trodden thematic territory of how capitalism begets fascism, but now with a more explicitly political bent. Adapted from Edward Ashton's sci-fi novel Mickey7, director Bong's film follows the "expendable" Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) on a colonial space expedition. In this not-so-distant future, expendables possess the ability to regenerate their bodies so that they can accomplish potentially fatal tasks on behalf of the colony — a job reserved for the most unskilled individuals deemed unable to contribute to society other than through sacrificing their bodies.
Mickey, currently in his 16th regeneration, joins Kenneth Marshall's (Mark Ruffalo) colonial expedition to the polar planet of Niflheim as an expendable. Throughout the protracted, voice-over-heavy exposition, we learn that Mickey is a glorified lab rat, poked and prodded by scientists, with a human soul. An accidental regeneration causes two Mickeys to exist at once: Mickey 17 and Mickey 18. Together, they work to dismantle Marshall's regime and protect Niflheim's indigenous alien population.
The SAG-AFTRA strike in 2023 and a lengthy stint in post-production pushed Mickey 17's release date around for over a year, perhaps contributing to the film's disjointed feel. Quite frankly, Mickey 17 is not nearly as fun as it's trying to be. Much of the physical comedy relies on broad exaggeration that had me laughing — mostly in resignation by the end.
Director Bong's filmography up until this point has been so strong and monumentally in command of the craft, so much so that it's unfair to compare the shortcomings of Mickey 17 to his previous work. Maybe we should let our greats flop once in a while. But the disparity here proves so great, it's hard not to be disappointed. Bong alludes to storylines only to be cast to the wayside, or hurriedly reappear and resolve themselves. The writer-director spins too many plates, leaving us with a film that lacks the substance to lend any real cohesion to the story being told. For example, the conditions on the Earth that Mickey and his best friend Timo (Steven Yeun) flee appear so dire that wanting to leave for the sake of a better life could have been enough, rendering various subplots intended to give them more reasons to leave feeling forced.
In the same vein, other than Mickey, everyone from Mickey's girlfriend Nasha (Naomi Ackie) to Timo are inconsistent at best. Near the end of the film, characters emerge who prove extremely significant to the plot, but to whom we've barely been introduced; they appear almost out of nowhere, but their impact on the course of the film is immense. Pattinson puts forth a commendable performance, but not distractingly dazzling enough to outweigh the rest of the film's faults.
Mark Ruffalo's obvious Donald Trump impression as Kenneth Marshall, though funny at first, quickly grates, as the parallels between Marshall and Trump overwhelm the character such that Ruffalo's performance becomes nothing more than an impersonation, from his diction to the pursing of his lips. Fascists have existed long before Trump, but regardless of the intent here, Ruffalo's heel turn does not inspire the same glee as his villainous performance in 2023's Poor Things.
Aspects of Mickey 17 invite comparisons to Ruben Östlund's Triangle of Sadness, a similar satire that skewers class disparities and power imbalances with a penchant for the grotesque. Both films are obvious in their intentions and self-awareness, and audiences join in on the joke in both cases. Where Triangle of Sadness succeeds and Mickey 17 fails is in its willingness to go all the way. For all its fantastical elements, Mickey 17 contains nothing particularly inventive or unique. The film pokes fun and aims to expose easy targets, and does so without material transgression or stylistic flair. Given what a strong visual storyteller Bong has proven to be, those elements become noticeably absent in this film.
Unlike Dolly De Leon's performance as Abigail in Triangle of Sadness, which subverts the stereotypes attributed to an older, diminutive Filipino woman, Mickey 17's Nasha doesn't achieve the same effect, introduced as a hyper-sexualized, aggressive Black woman. Instead of subversion, Mickey 17 deals in dated stereotypes.
In Mickey 17, Bong telegraphs the ills of modern day life, as he has done formidably in his previous films: capitalist structures attempt to expunge all meaning from human existence to serve colonial ambitions at great cost to the majority of individuals. This battle — against fascism, colonialism and tyranny in its many forms — must be fought, and to a certain extent, it's irresponsible for artists and audience to not engage. Ignoring these issues while we're constantly reminded of "these trying times" in exceedingly oblique ways is wrong, but this doesn't mean that art which engages meaningfully in political discourse instantly becomes creatively successful. The ideas that animate Mickey 17 have an urgency to them, though a bit saccharine — a turn from director Bong's usually desolate but realistic perspective.
Bong's previous film, Parasite, until its very last minutes, is pragmatic and judicious. This goes for many of director Bong's other films, namely Snowpiercer and Memories of a Murder. Mickey 17 dissects the increasing commodification of human existence, and while it has an urgent message, the packaging is messy. The grey slop force-fed to the characters during their voyage to Niflheim illustrates the film best: it's nutritious but unsatisfactory. I'm still hungry.