Bong Joon Ho really has a bug up his ass about capitalism, class warfare, and the exploitation of workers. And who could blame him? Shit is remarkably fucked right now, for lack of a better phrase, and it looks like it won’t be improving anytime soon. With Snowpiercer, he told the story literally and horizontally — the plebes in the back of the train are exploited by the elite at the front. With Parasite he made it vertical (you know the shot I’m thinking of) and argued that even those at the perceived top of the chain are also victims of exploitation. With Mickey 17, his adaptation of the similarly titled novel (Mickey 7 — why not add a little more carnage if you’re moving to a visual medium?), the lens is laser-focused on worker exploitation. In a world where the middle and lower classes are increasingly regarded as cogs in a machine, it’s quite satirically sharp to spin a yarn about a man whose job it is to literally die over and over again.
His name is Mickey (Robert Pattinson) and thanks to the magic of technology, he’s essentially immortal. No, it’s not that he can’t die — very much the opposite — it’s just that when he does die, often in horrifying ways, his employers can just print out a new body and upload his consciousness directly into it. Ethically, it’s a bit murky, but if you’re trying to inhabit a feral ice planet, you’re going to have to break some eggs (or just one egg, over and over again). After a failed attempt at opening a restaurant here on Earth, Mickey and his business partner Timo (Steven Yeun) find themselves in the sights of a particularly cruel loan shark. As a means of survival, both enlist for jobs on the interplanetary scouting expedition. Timo, ever the con-man, finagles his way into a job as a pilot. Mickey, a man with very little by way of marketable skills, signs himself up to be an “expendable.”
No, he didn’t read the fine print. No, that doesn’t mean he gets to fight bad guys alongside Sly Stallone and Kelsey Grammer. Yes, Kelsey Grammer is in The Expendables 3.
What follows is a patently insane fairy tale that begins by chronicling the first 16 Mickeys in one of the finest, and most bizarre “you’re probably wondering how I got here” openings you’re apt to see. Once that’s all out of the way, there’s action, romance, comedy, heeeeeeavy satire, and a rogues gallery of classic sci-fi ethical quandaries all wrapped up in an indescribably weird adventure film. And that’s all before the film’s main hook: what if Mickey, left for dead, doesn’t die, and the powers that be have already jumped the gun in printing an 18th Mickey?
Mickey 17 is vintage Bong Joon Ho, and the world he’s operating in is perfectly suited to his propensity toward mashing a vast collection of seemingly disparate tones into even the tiniest chunk of the film and somehow keeping it all together. With an imagination so robust and playful, it all comes down to the details, and Bong Joon Ho doesn’t leave an inch of his screen or script empty of his idiosyncratic touch. A great example is the human printer itself. In BJH’s world, it works just like a paper printer, frequently retracting its output (a human body) just a bit to prevent jamming. Then there’s the device which allows Mickey’s consciousness to be uploaded into the new body. It’s called “the brick,” and it looks like a red, concrete brick with buttons on it. Why? Because it’s fun. Also, it cues the audience to wonder about its design, thus distracting them from its illogical function. And even when there is an uncrossable logistical gap, each one ultimately serves as a repository for the film’s complicated thematic framework. Why, if he’s a clone, is Mickey 18 exhibiting a wildly different personality than our hero (17)? Perhaps it’s because 17’s data was never uploaded to the brick. Or, to get deeper, perhaps it’s because the through-line existence of Mickey Prime’s soul hasn’t yet been transferred.
Is each new Mickey a simple recreation? Does the existential experience of each dead Mickey end with their own death?
Do androids dream of electric sheep?
It’s big questions like these which define truly great sci-fi, and Mickey 17 left my mind reeling.
Pattinson is, of course, incredible in his dual role. At no point does it feel like one actor duplicated. I’d even go so far as to say that both visually and performance-wise, it’s the best it’s ever been done. By his side is Naomi Ackie as Nasha, a fellow space traveler who falls in love with 17, but who is quite turned on when the option to bed two Mickey’s at once arises. But it would be wrong to characterize Nasha as a simple love interest. She’s as integral to the plot and story as Mickey is, and much like him, Nasha is a fully realized character with an entire life that exists beyond the script. As far as supporting female characters go, she’s given much more depth than many scripts would even try to build, and Ackie’s performance adds that much more to it.
The same goes for most of the cast. From the evil leader behind the mission, Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo, firmly in his “weird” era) and his wife Ylfa (a scene-stealing Toni Collette), to an enthusiastic tech (Patsy Ferran) who in any other movie would merely provide plot assistance, all are thoroughly characterized. These people are only ever in a scene because it makes sense that they would be in the scene, not because the scene needs cogs to populate it (even down to character placement, BJH ain’t down with exploitation).
Visually, Mickey 17 is closer to Snowpiercer and Okja than it is to Parasite or Mother, which means it’s colorful and fancifully designed, with post-production elements that are integrated with the live-action pieces in such a way as to be seamless, despite obvious digital artifice. It’s meant to look equally fleshy, painterly, and fantastical, all in service of a world that can house the strangest of ideas while still playing as an offshoot of our own. It’s rare that I see a film where I never know what’s going to happen next, and Mickey 17 regularly threw me for a loop. It’s one of the most consistently surprising movies since, well, the last time Bong Joon Ho made one.
It’s become common, at least when I’m talking about film, to refer to a level of “juice” that a film has. For example, Jon M. Chu is a director with very little juice, whereas Michael Bay is pretty much only juice. Bong Joon Ho is dripping with juice, as is Mickey 17, but I’d like to add that in addition to juice, he also has sauce. At one point in the film, Ylfa, the wife and advisor to the film’s true villain, explains her obsession with procuring the finest culinary sauces to consume once new planet has been colonized. “Sauce,” she explains, “is the litmus test for any civilization.” Granted, here it’s meant to represent capitalistic excess — an obsession with wanting empty calories added to your meal while the people you’re responsible for starve. But I wish to repurpose to term to describe Bong Joon Ho’s ability to sneak a healthy plate of veggies past the pickiest diner. He knows exactly the right sauce to complement his meals, and with Mickey 17, one of cinema’s masters has prepared a nutrient-dense feast that is simply delectable.
Directed by Bong Joon Ho
Written by Bong Joon Ho, based on the novel by Edward Ashton
Starring Robert Pattinson, Steven Yeun, Naomi Ackie, Patsy Ferran
Rated R, 137 minutes
