In Mickey 17, director Bong Joon-ho returns to the big screen with a sci-fi satire that combines biting social commentary with a hefty dose of dark humor. This film, a follow-up to his Academy Award-winning Parasite, is far from the subtle, intricately layered critique of class dynamics that won hearts and Oscars in 2020. Instead, it’s a brash, chaotic exploration of identity, expendability, and the messiness of human (and cloned) nature—though still underpinned by Bong’s sharp storytelling instincts.
Based on Edward Ashton’s 2022 novel Mickey7, Mickey 17 takes place in 2054, where Earth is on the brink of collapse and volunteers are sent into space to establish colonies on distant planets. Robert Pattinson stars as Mickey Barnes, a hapless and somewhat naïve space explorer who joins a mission to colonize Niflheim, a harsh ice world. His role? To be an “Expendable”—a disposable crew member tasked with dangerous duties, who is reprinted (or cloned) each time he dies. Unfortunately, Mickey didn’t bother to read the fine print, and what begins as a simple mission becomes a twisted cycle of death, cloning, and self-discovery.
The central hook of the film is Pattinson’s dual performance as both Mickey 17 and his successor, Mickey 18. The two versions of Mickey may look the same, but their personalities diverge significantly. Mickey 17 is meek, vulnerable, and somewhat oblivious to his own expendability, while Mickey 18 is sharp, angry, and ready to take control of his fate. Pattinson’s ability to differentiate between the two is a masterstroke, using subtle physical and vocal distinctions to bring both characters to life with nuance and humor. Whether navigating the absurdities of space travel or competing for the affections of their girlfriend, Nasha (played by Naomi Ackie), Pattinson’s performance anchors the entire film.
While the premise is reminiscent of Duncan Jones’ Moon, with its themes of identity and self-doubt, Mickey 17 brings a more satirical edge to the table. At the heart of the story is a sharply drawn critique of power, with Mark Ruffalo playing Kenneth Marshall, a Donald Trump-esque figure who heads the colonization mission. Marshall’s vision of a “pure, white planet” and his cult-like following are too on-the-nose in their parody of populist rhetoric, but they are still effective in making the film feel uncannily timely. Ruffalo, channeling the self-absorbed qualities of a reality TV star-turned-politician, delivers a performance that is both comical and chilling.
Supporting roles are just as strong, with Toni Collette adding a touch of menace as Marshall’s ethically dubious wife, Ylfa. The film’s social commentary is front and center, though sometimes it feels a bit heavy-handed. Still, there’s no denying the film’s ability to entertain. A standout moment is a tense scene where Naomi Ackie’s Nasha delivers a biting, profanity-laden monologue to Marshall, reminding the audience of the power dynamics at play and delivering a galvanizing blow to the film’s narrative.
The film’s visual design is stunning, with Bong’s penchant for meticulous production values on full display. The Niflheim ice caves, rendered in crystalline blues, create a striking contrast with the sterile, corporate aesthetics of the Earth-bound recruitment facility. Bong’s knack for storytelling is also evident, as he juggles the film’s complex nonlinear structure with ease, ensuring that Mickey 17 never drags, despite its hefty two-and-a-quarter-hour runtime.
While the film is a blast overall, not every element lands with equal success. The subplot involving Marshall’s wife’s obsession with finding the perfect sauce feels like an odd and misplaced running joke that doesn’t quite match the film’s tone. Yet, these minor missteps don’t detract significantly from the overall experience.
At its core, Mickey 17 is a fun, irreverent, and thought-provoking exploration of identity, immortality, and the consequences of playing god—albeit through the lens of dark humour and sci-fi absurdity. Robert Pattinson delivers a standout performance that makes it worth the watch, and Bong Joon-ho proves yet again that he can blend humor with social commentary in a way few directors can. It may not have the same quiet elegance of Parasite, but Mickey 17 is a wildly entertaining, timely reflection on a world that seems increasingly obsessed with its own destruction.
