Review: Mickey 17

Mickey 17 is a wry, visually arresting, and thematically loaded space odyssey. The film reaffirms Bong Joon Ho's status as modern cinema’s most thrillingly unpredictable auteur. His penchant for genre-blending is on full display here, layering black comedy, high-concept dystopian drama, and biting political satire into a film that’s as exhilarating as it is profoundly unsettling.

Robert Pattinson headlines this cosmic farce as Mickey Barnes, a so-called “expendable” aboard a deep-space colonization mission to the icy hellscape of Niflheim. As the 17th iteration of himself, Mickey’s purpose is simple: die repeatedly for the good of the crew and be resurrected via human printing technology. Each gruesome demise, whether via extreme frostbite, incineration, or a particularly nasty run-in with the planet’s native insectoid creatures, is met with the same indifferent shrugs from his fellow passengers. Death is his job, and nobody cares about a worker whose very existence is disposable by design.

Pattinson, in a turn that ranks among his best, imbues Mickey with an exhausted affability, a man who has long since resigned himself to his fate, only to suddenly realize he might want to live. His world is further complicated by the accidental creation of Mickey 18, a gruff, hardened upgrade who views his predecessor as a liability. Watching Pattinson play off himself, oscillating between Mickey 17’s hapless vulnerability and Mickey 18’s cold pragmatism, is a masterclass in duality, elevating the film beyond its conceptual trappings.

And then there’s Mark Ruffalo, gleefully chewing scenery as Kenneth Marshall, the expedition’s narcissistic commander. If you thought Bong had finished skewering the cult of personality that elevates inept strongmen into power, think again. Marshall, decked out in exaggerated suits and barking barely coherent directives, is a caricature of every blustering politician who’s ever mistaken bullying for leadership. The film’s political commentary isn’t subtle, Bong never does subtle, but it is razor-sharp, offering a scathing look at how authoritarian delusions thrive even in the most inhospitable corners of the universe.

Visually, Mickey 17 is stunning. Darius Khondji’s cinematography bathes Niflheim in a stark, unforgiving light, contrasting the ship’s claustrophobic metallic interiors with the planet’s vast, frozen emptiness. The film’s creature design, particularly the so-called “Creepers,” is delightfully grotesque, evoking the unsettling beauty of Nausicaä-era Miyazaki. Every frame pulses with meticulous world-building, from the ship’s grimy industrial corridors to the eerie, crystalline caverns that hint at the planet’s hidden secrets.

If the film stumbles, it’s in its chaotic final act, where Bong’s tonal juggling act wobbles. The narrative juggles too many moving pieces, corporate greed, philosophical debates on identity, interstellar colonialism, resulting in a conclusion that’s more thematically rich than narratively cohesive. But even when it teeters, Mickey 17 remains endlessly compelling, its questions more intriguing than its answers.

Bong’s films have always been about the perils of capitalism, but Mickey 17 might be his most scathing critique yet. In this world, even immortality is commodified, and human worth is dictated by one’s ability to serve. It’s a film that laughs in the face of dystopia, reveling in the absurdity of a system that keeps reinventing new ways to oppress. And yet, amidst the existential bleakness, there’s an undercurrent of hope—a belief that even the most disposable among us might one day refuse to be discarded.

At once thrilling, hilarious, and deeply unnerving, Mickey 17 is another masterstroke from Bong Joon Ho. It might not reach the airtight perfection of Parasite, but in its best moments, it feels like a film only Bong could make, an audacious, genre-defying ride that lingers long after the credits roll. It’s not just a great sci-fi film; it’s a mirror held up to our own reality, asking us what it truly means to be human when the world is determined to strip us of that very thing.

And as always, Bong’s answer is as funny as it is devastating.

4/5