Review: Mickey 17 (2025)

There's a version of Mickey 17 that fully explores the big questions: the ethics of cloning, the nature of the soul, and humankind's infinite quest to know why and how we exist. If every human is unique, then what are the ramifications of technology that makes the artificial creation of life possible? This is, after all, the fundamental quandary of countless science fiction stories spanning the last one hundred years. Beyond that, our quest for self goes back to the dawn of time. 

 Bong Joon-ho, the South Korean filmmaker behind Snowpiercer and Parasite, is apparently not interested in that. These elements simply make up the window dressing of Mickey 17, a movie that stars Robert Pattinson in the titular role of Mickey, a man who sold his life away in a quick attempt to outrun some bad decisions that involve a loan shark and a crooked business partner (Steven Yeun). His chance of escape comes in the form of becoming an expendable--a person who willingly subjects themselves to certain death as a career, knowing that they'll be cloned and reprinted with their memories intact. He's the human version of a canary in a coal mine, but he gets to do it again and again. For the first half-hour or so, the filmmaker briefly explores the inherent cruelty and inhumanity of a society that would allow this ultimate exploitation to happen in the first place. We see how those responsible for Mickey's resurrections clumsily go about their work with the same conviction of a gas station attendant riding the clock during a late shift. Some kindness comes in the form of Nasha (Naomi Ackie), who asserts a defiance and confidence that Mickey cannot resist. 

But soon, the movie reveals what's really on its mind. This is not a film about cloning or the search for identity, but rather Bong Joon-ho's scathing criticism of corporate democracy. At the center of this is Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo), a powerful and wealthy leader who has ridiculous hair, says outrageous things, and hides behind his wife (Toni Collette) when people hurt his feelings. His followers wear red caps with a slogan on them and seem to worship him like a god. No coincidence, then, that the government is actually a corporation that doubles as a church. The symbol of this church/government, which is seen on everything from lapel pins to guns, is remarkably similar to a swastika. Some might be tempted to say that the world feels fully-realized, but how could it not? It's our world with little more than a change of setting from Earth to space. One expects Kenneth Marshall to declare that it's time to "make space great again."

There are dozens, if not hundreds, of thinly-veiled connections to the politics and power of the western world in the 2020s. Who needs the nightly news when current events are so accurately paralleled in this science fiction story that feels more like a thin allegory than satire or metaphor? Whether I agree with the messaging or not, these punches at the current power derail the narrative entirely. The film seems to lose interest in Mickey altogether after the first hour or so. The marketing of the film promises a conflict when Mickey 17 meets Mickey 18, which is something that I was looking forward to seeing. Pattinson plays the various versions of his character with marked differences, and it works. Unfortunately, this battle of the Mickeys is largely used to stage a final act involving the native inhabitants of a planet that our characters have landed on. 

None of this is new territory for Bong Joon-ho. He's been exploring the tension between the elite and the rest of us for most of his career. Snowpiercer isn't really about a train, after all. But here, in what is likely the filmmaker's most commercial, most Hollywood film to date, the fun of his movies seems to be overtaken by a heavy-handed message that take a lot of the joy out of watching the film to the point that it becomes tedious.

But maybe that's the way it has to be. After all, we're living in an era when subtlety is lost on the masses. Somewhere along the way, our ability to understand satire disappeared. That's why another movie with an angry message at heart, The Substance, delivers its memorandum with a firehose, so that even the thickest audience member gets the point. Bong Joon-ho may have discovered that the themes of his films, which were never very subtle to begin with, were nevertheless flying under the radar. Hence we get Mickey 17, a picture that promises a jaunty trip across the galaxy with a guy who can't really die, but delivers something else entirely. Think Gattaca by way of The Fifth Element. These two elements are at odds with each other; the deep, philosophical questions of life are presented here, but rarely explored to their potential. Instead, the filmmaker has chosen to pursue a socio-political allegory that will resonate with roughly half of this film's audience while completely alienating the other.