Mickey 17: a sad but hopeful examination of the state of the world

Bong Joon Ho’s previous film Parasite is widely regarded as one of the best films of the 21^st century so far, and rightly so. Anyone who has seen his filmography can clearly pinpoint the way it brings together every concern he’s ever had into one brutal, titanically perfect package. Hence, expectations and anticipation were high for his long-awaited follow-up, Mickey 17. The result is nowhere near the all-time high of Parasite (an impossible expectation), but it is still a terrific film, one that is melancholic and hopeful in equal measure.

The film follows Robert Pattinson’s Mickey, who, to escape a bad life on Earth, hurriedly signs up as an ‘expendable’ for a space colonising mission on the faraway planet Niflheim. An expendable is someone used to carry out the dirtiest and most dangerous work of the mission, as when he dies he can be ‘reprinted’ with all his memories intact. At the start of the film Mickey is on his 17^th iteration, but a series of events leads to a mistake that causes a Mickey 18 to be printed. These two concurrently existing Mickeys pose a threat to the overlord of the mission, Kenneth Marshall (played by Mark Ruffalo).

There is a consistently strong undercurrent of sadness

It’s really exciting to see a director with the strange sensibilities of Bong Joon Ho be given a big Hollywood budget to play with ($120 million to be precise), and he crafts a really beautiful, convincing sci-fi world. His real concern, though, is the things he has to say about the state of our real world. By leaving earth, he creates a microcosm in which to reflect on the various key capitalist forces that make our world go round. For a big studio film, it is surprisingly light on action, silliness or an especially fast pace, instead choosing to quickly establishes a quite sombre, sad tone. While it mines much humour from the ways Mickey is exploited and treated by his fellow colleagues on the colonising ship, there is a consistently strong undercurrent of sadness, one which mourns the way this poor, desperate man is abused over and over again with little sympathy. Sure Mickey can be reprinted, but the dying still hurts every time, and it is the fact that people are so willing to kill him for their own benefit that makes this such a sad story to begin with. It’s a compelling meditation on the way those not at the top of the economic ladder are exploited remorselessly like batteries for profit. Yes Mickey can come back to life, but the willingness to abuse this aspect of him over and over again slowly saps away at his soul and self-worth. What is the point of caring about your life if the people around you are just going to throw you away for their gain over and over again?

This is where the introduction of Mickey 18 shakes the film up after its establishing first act. Now that there are two Mickeys, if one of them dies then that is actually the end of their life, as they won’t both be reprinted. This leads to fascinating ethical debates around cloning, a theme visible in much science fiction, but here made interesting in how it posits both the clones as individual human beings. They might come from the same source but they are their own different people with their own separate bodies. Robert Pattinson delivers stellar work, once more, as the two Mickeys. He plays more passive and scared as Mickey 17, while more violent and angry, similar to his iteration of the Batman, as Mickey 18, but both are equally human, fully formed people. He’s often been who I cite as my favourite actor working right now, and this further proves why.

His journey from depressive acceptance of his exploitation to trying to reclaim his self-worth is the core of the film

If everything sounds overwhelmingly depressing so far, then the film provides a crucial ray of light in Naomi Ackie’s Nasha, a crew member on the ship who quickly falls in love with Mickey. Ackie is fantastic as a fierce woman who hates the way things are and might actually be in a position of power to change them. She fights for Mickey to love himself again in the way she loves him, and is there for him when everyone else neglects him. Their relationship provides the most moving moments of the film, particularly one where Nasha (in a hazmat suit) comforts a naked Mickey as he slowly dies to a gas toxin that is being tested on him. It’s through Nasha and Mickey 18’s refusal to be apathetic that Mickey 17 slowly learns to reclaim his body and fight for his happiness. I shan’t spoil it, but the film ends on an especially beautiful line of dialogue that expresses how hard it can be to fight for your own self-worth and happiness within a capitalist system that only wants to take from you. His journey from depressive acceptance of his exploitation to trying to reclaim his self-worth is the core of the film, and Pattinson charts it perfectly.

Despite the quite melancholic tone it quickly establishes, the film is also really good fun. An enjoyably unsubtle critique of the state of the world, it takes in everything from ecocide, workplace relationship dramas, world leaders and pretentious high society culture in a strange, funny blender. The film’s sense of humour is quite dry but similar to that of Parasite’s lighter opening half. Much humour comes from Ruffalo, who is avidly anti-Donald Trump online and it shows here, as he portrays a laughably idiotic, egotistical political leader who cares only for his own self-glory, and nothing for the environment or his followers. The film has been criticised for how obvious its satire is, but we are living through a frankly unbelievable time in world politics at the moment. So why should a film’s criticism of that have to be subtle when it can, instead, be an angry sledgehammer?

It is a testament to Bong Joon Ho’s command of tone that he can touch on so many subjects

The way the film flows between its various threads is most reminiscent of Okja, another of Bong Joon Ho’s English language films that touches on a lot of pressing issues. Both films share a particular concern for our disregard of the value of animal life, and both share an impressive way of condemning that without bullying the audience into depressed submission. It is a testament to Bong Joon Ho’s command of tone that he can touch on so many subjects, across a wide ensemble of characters, in an insightful, funny way, while also maintaining a pained, defeated sadness as to the fact that we have somehow arrived at this point. It’s a brilliant tightrope walk, but the film importantly refuses to be apathetic to our exploitation by its end. It ultimately pleads for love and kindness to each other as the only ways we’ll get through it all. For if we are there to support the people close to us, then, in our own little worlds, we might all feel okay – a really heartfelt sentiment that the film constructs beautifully with its closing scene and title card.

While it is not his best film by any means, this is still a remarkably well told tale that I feel is actually one of Bong Joon Ho’s better films, behind only Parasite, Memories of Murder and Okja in my personal ranking of his filmography. To run away with a big studio budget and craft something as idiosyncratic, weird, funny, piercing and sad as this is quite a feat, and we should all be glad to have his films around to help us navigate these strange times we live in. Let’s hope his next film doesn’t take so long to arrive.