“Mickey 17” was the first movie in a while that I was excited to see in theaters. When trailers for Bong Joon Ho’s latest film began circulating last year, I wasn’t at all aware of his directorial catalog. I knew of “Parasite” (2019) in name only — the original novel by Edward Ashton was out of my purview — and Robert Pattinson only marginally interested me after his performance in “The Batman.” But none of that mattered to me because the tone and presentation of the “Mickey 17” trailer seemed like the exact kind of movie I was looking to see. I’ve been largely checked out of theatrical releases in the past year, which could be more an issue of my time and interest than an issue of the availability of options. Either way, this new film brought me back to my lost routine of Tuesday night viewings at Jackson’s Empire 8.
I arrived 10 minutes before the showtime, a rare feat for anything I attend.
The first element that struck me as the film began was the establishment of a gorgeous color space — and the use of physical spacing — to indicate power dynamics. The introductory scene shows Mickey, played by Robert Pattinson, stuck and hurt in a crevasse. The blues and grays, saturated but lacking vibrance, created a satisfying blend of muted luminance and full, rounded color. A character from Mickey’s team — later shown to be an uncaring friend from his past — creeps down to speak to Mickey but makes no effort to help him. The way that the colleague looks down to Mickey’s dying body demonstrates quickly the use of physical space to communicate how characters feel about each other. These elements, color and space, are some of my favorite pieces of the film that carry nicely through the runtime.
As the film goes on, Mickey’s narration carries heavy exposition and backstory, walking us through this world and its colonial space travel goals. At the same time, the personality built into this voiceover introduces another standout part of “Mickey 17” — Pattinson’s performance. He plays a man running from violent creditors with seemingly nothing to lose. Mickey signs up for an “expendable” job, where he works the most dangerous situations on the space mission and is cloned over again anytime he dies. The primary version Pattinson plays, 17, is sheepish and mild-mannered, with a distinct higher-toned voice. Pattinson plays 18 as well in the same scenes, but 18 is brash, intense. This difference between the two characters is visceral and remarkably convincing, a true testament to how Pattinson can lose himself in a character — even the ways that he uses his facial muscles are different between the characters. Mickey 17 and 18 feel like separate, real people based on a mutual source. This is one of Pattinson’s best performances, in my opinion.
Mark Ruffalo features as the megalomaniac leader of the colony known as Marshall. At first, his caricature of this type of leader was fun and interesting, but with time, the bit grew stale and so did the character. One character I found myself struggling to like as much as the film wanted me to was Nasha, Mickey’s girlfriend. She is framed to be the person who loves Mickey across the many cloned versions of him, but in truth, the relationship seems more like Mickey 17 is her lap dog and that she prefers Mickey 18. The relationship dynamics and love interests were handled messily at best.
The set design and visual effects work displayed in this film fit the tone of the film and its goals well. These elements didn’t strike me strongly, but they also blended smoothly with the rest of the visuals, not feeling distracting or like overkill. VFX shots are overused in major films as of late and often stand out like a sore thumb, so my lack of reaction to these effects is actually a win in my book.
After I grew accustomed to the cinematic voice of “Mickey 17,” I was confused by the tonal jumps that occurred often. Throughout the film, serious moments are interrupted by charming or comedic notes and gags. I wasn’t sure how I felt about this at the beginning, but by the end of the film, I found myself appreciating them. After researching Bong further, I realized that this directorial voice is similar to his personality. In one interview, Bong describes how he watched horror films as a child and that this informs his approaches to violent or scary scenes. His comfort with darker moments in his stories often allows absurdity to break through and lets the audience laugh.
By the credits, I was confident in feeling that the writing and plot of the film were lacking. The message of class conflict and fighting power — while important and potentially compelling — is so flatly pushed that nuance is rarely seen in the film. It felt dumbed down, with important plot and character moments ruined by blocky dialogue points. And there were many other issues that the film tried to touch on, such as wealth, scientific testing and religion — none of which were fleshed out properly.
The faults in the writing became even more glaring when I returned home and watched Bong’s Oscar-winning film, “Parasite.” It made even more sense why other people were more let down than me because I now understood what this director and his creative vision are capable of. Every detail of “Parasite” is immaculate: the dialogue, the acting, the visuals all work together to create a fascinating tapestry of messages and story around class, family and ownership. These were the ideas that “Mickey 17” makes attempts at as well, but predominantly fell short. “Parasite” held me gripped for its entire runtime, but I found myself just simply enjoying the tone and general experience of Bong’s latest work.
“Mickey 17” is a movie I look forward to rewatching through the years, but I’m not holding my breath on another Best Picture win here.
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