Director: Bong Joon-ho
Stars: Naomi Ackie, Robert Pattinson, Anamaria Vartolomei
Bong Hive rejoice! It’s been five long years since Parasite swept the 2020 Oscars, and well over a year since it’s follow-up was initially mooted for release, kicked off of the schedule by Warner Bros. supposedly because of the SAG-AFTRA strike. But Mickey 17 is finally with us. A goofy palette cleanser after the earnest marathon of the 2025 awards cycle. Mid-March is usually a dumping ground for studio offcuts deemed immaterial to prestige season, so it’s heartening to get something of substance in these fallow weeks. Even more-so when it allays the kind of fears that such delays and scheduling often encourage.
I’ll hold my hand up that I had a good bit of scepticism about this one. Bong Joon-ho’s prior English language efforts – Snowpiercer (2013) and Okja (2017) – never fully landed with me and, considering the greatness of his native Korean pictures, led me to assume a similar disconnect might well apply here. The good news, from this writer’s perspective, is I was wrong. Mickey 17 is a hoot. An irreverent, shambling, satirical space adventure that exists in a lineage of sci-fi comedies, but which feels shot through with appealing originality. Adapted from Edward Ashton’s novel Mickey 7, Bong evidently found many of his recurring interests in the source; working class malaise, a healthy distrust of authority, and big squishy creatures.
Feeling very much like a kindred spirit to Red Dwarf‘s Dave Lister, Robert Pattinson is Mickey Barnes, a dopey everyman who joins up on a prospective terraforming mission into space that’s helmed by Mark Ruffalo’s megalomaniacal political has-been Kenneth Marshall. Not reading the fine print and aware of his deficit in skills, Mickey opts for the role of the ship’s “expendable”, not realising this means he will be the first in harm’s way and effectively cloned and reprinted every time he buys it (hence the numerical against his moniker). The mission’s destination is a snowy, inhospitable little planet called Niflheim. En route the various Mickeys are taken under the wing of intrepid multitasking soldier Nasha (Naomi Ackie), who loves him in all his forms.
As elaborated on via voiceover narration (which Pattinson handles with dry elan), human cloning has become a red button talking point, and an agreement was made that any instance of ‘multiples’ existing at the same time would be met with swift and stern eradication. When Mickey 17 is presumed dead, no. 18 comes juddering out of the onboard copier. 17’s reemergence therefore puts the both of them in jeopardy, while raising juicier questions about the nature of self and the existence of the soul. Mickey sees his other as separate from him, and not a part of one being. What’s more, 18’s merciless streak openly suggests something missing in the matrix.
This would be plenty for most movies, but Mickey 17 is keen – perhaps over-keen – to complicate matters further. The reactionary Marshall and his saucy (not how you think) wife Ylfa (Toni Collette) are on-the-nose MAGA clones. Fake tanned, bouffant’ed and incredibly vain. When a race of benign woodlouse-like creatures are discovered on Niflheim, it can only mean all-out-war from the couple, keen to latch on to anything that will busy their flock. Mickey 17 develops a decidedly Starship Troopers-esque streak, exposing the panic and xenophobia in Marshall’s leadership, evidenced already by his rousing ideas for an ‘all-white’ colony.
And there’s more beyond that. With so much in motion, Bong’s movie is at it’s best whenever the focus is narrowed. The lengthy prologue sets everything going with remarkable efficiency. It’s light and entertaining, skipping through the spurious set-ups with a pace and pomp that subtly asks you to suspend disbelief at a number of the movie’s wackier conceits.
The mid-section is the biggest treat, however, as this is where Pattinson and Mackie hold court in a delightful tangle of multiple identities, near-misses, and classic farcical set-ups. Pattinson’s double duty plays effortlessly, and there are abundant opportunities to delineate the Mickeys through his disparate physicality. Mickey 17 is an enjoyably bumbling and slapstick offering. Characters are frequently bumping into things or tripping over themselves, redolent of a shambolic proto-society and the wry irony that we’re all faking our way through adulthood. The nexus of this is an hilariously disgusting dinner scene – centrepiece of the entire movie and pivot point before the messier third act.
And it’s something Bong is a little prone to. Even the beloved Parasite gets a little bogged down as it reaches the finish line. With so much to attend to, Pattinson’s Mickeys almost get lost in the shuffle in favour of Marshall’s maniacal war-mongering and several other strands similarly set in motion. Steven Yeun’s always a delight, and he delivers another great schmo here in the form of Mickey’s former business partner Timo, but it’s one subplot too many in a movie already at bursting point.
Nevertheless, Bong pulls it all together for a slightly laboured crescendo. There’s a minor sense that some of the richer, integral themes haven’t been as fully developed and investigated as they might have been, lost in the fervour for so much (enjoyably) organised chaos. It’s also heavily implied early on that there’s a twist waiting in the wings that never emerges. With so much happening, red herrings feel like excess baggage.
These feel like a great many criticisms, but they’re all part and parcel of the film’s ramshackle, overreaching charm. Bong’s cinema is often gleefully cacophonous, redolent of a plate spinning vaudeville act. While a couple of spinners wobble distractingly, the showman still manages to keep them all going, and the clowning routine throughout is more than enough to warrant applause at the end.
We’re used to CG spectacle on the big screen, but rarely does it come with such personality. Mickey 17 feels precious and relatively unique in this regard. A big brained sci-fi picture that’s commendably dumb, boasting an ensemble cast of greats and Pattinson absolutely on his A-game. He’s perfectly positioned here (mostly) at the centre of a crowd-pleasing screwball satire, one that resets expectations for Bong Joon-ho. He could really follow this with anything. Here’s hoping for fewer delays next time.
The Lost Highway Hotel 