Rating- ****1/2 (4.5/5)
Cast: Robert Pattinson, Naomi Ackie, Steven Yeun, Mark Ruffalo & more
Directed by: Bong Joon-Ho
In theaters 7th March 2025
Topping a film that not only triumphed over all odds to become the first Korean film to win Best International Feature but also shattered barriers as the first foreign-language film to clinch the coveted Best Picture Oscar is perhaps one of the most daunting creative challenges in cinematic history. Parasite was more than just a film—it was a cultural moment, an exclamation point in Bong Joon-Ho’s already impeccable legacy, reaffirming his genius for the uninitiated.
How does one follow that? If you’re Bong, you might take Path A, Path B, or Path C—but then again, this is Bong Joon-Ho we’re talking about. He doesn’t just follow a path; he obliterates the map entirely, taking a singular concept and flipping it on its head, twisting it inside out, and reshaping it into the mind-bending, genre-defying spectacle that is Mickey 17.
The sheer absurdity of Mickey’s predicament—people casually asking him, “What’s it like? Dying?” with unnerving nonchalance, or the utterly ridiculous yet strangely poignant squabbles between Mickey 17 and Mickey 18—fuels a comedic goldmine.
Based on Edward Ashton’s novel Mickey 7, the film transports us to the year 2054, where Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson) embarks on an interstellar voyage to colonize a distant planet. The reason behind his enlistment? As hilariously relatable as you’d expect—he didn’t quite read the fine print. Mickey unknowingly signs up to be an “expendable,” a human test subject who is expected to die—repeatedly—only to be reprinted time and time again.
But every system has its breaking point, and for Mickey, that moment arrives when he doesn’t die, setting off a domino effect of chaos. Suddenly, his continued existence becomes an existential problem—particularly for Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo), the ex-politician spearheading the mission to the planet Niflheim, and his wife, Ilfa (Toni Collette). There’s romance, there’s lust, and there’s an absolute barrage of thematic density, all unfolding in a world inhabited by multiple Mickeys, a host of morally dubious figures, and a faint glimmer of hope.
If you’re still unfamiliar with Bong Joon-Ho’s razor-sharp command of black comedy, Mickey 17 is the perfect crash course in his mastery. Incredibly, it emerges as one of the most riotously funny films in recent memory, not in spite of its bleakness, but because of it. The sheer absurdity of Mickey’s predicament—people casually asking him, “What’s it like? Dying?” with unnerving nonchalance, or the utterly ridiculous yet strangely poignant squabbles between Mickey 17 and Mickey 18—fuels a comedic goldmine.
And then there’s Mark Ruffalo, who, in every scene, manages to be both terrifying and laugh-out-loud funny, elevating the film’s humor into something almost transcendent.
Mickey 17 is a masterclass in filmmaking—an unapologetically original, technically stunning, and wildly inventive achievement that cements Bong Joon-Ho’s place as one of the most daring storytellers of our time.
Bong’s storytelling is nothing short of audacious. He refuses to succumb to predictability, sidestepping every narrative pitfall that a lesser filmmaker might embrace. Instead, he crafts an experience that is equal parts exhilarating and existentially horrifying—where human nature is at its worst, where alien creatures ominously dubbed “creepers” lurk in the periphery, and where chaos reigns supreme. The sheer scope of Mickey 17 is staggering, packed to the brim with ideas ranging from imperialism to human cloning, anti-fascism to anti-capitalism.
And while Bong is typically known for his subtlety in tackling such themes, here he leans into a more exaggerated, almost caricaturish approach. It’s a bold choice—one that could have been a disaster in the hands of anyone else. But with Ruffalo at the helm of this madness, it becomes something extraordinary.
Ruffalo, unmistakably channeling Mr. U.S. president (yes, that one), delivers a performance that is as unhinged as it is scarily accurate. His Kenneth Marshall is a grotesquely delightful concoction—boorish, despotic, and so ludicrously self-assured that you can’t help but be transfixed.
Alongside him, Toni Collette is equally diabolical, playing the kind of character you loathe but remain utterly captivated by. And then there’s Robert Pattinson, who annihilates any lingering doubts about his range with a performance so layered, so precisely attuned to the film’s tonal whiplash, that it borders on genius.
As Mickey, he is fragile yet resilient, naïve yet cunning, a bruised and battered survivor navigating the absurdity of his own existence. His physicality alone speaks volumes—gangly, beaten down, but never quite defeated. If ever there were a role that perfectly encapsulated the sheer depth of Pattinson’s talent, this is it.
Ultimately, Mickey 17 is a masterclass in filmmaking—an unapologetically original, technically stunning, and wildly inventive achievement that cements Bong Joon-Ho’s place as one of the most daring storytellers of our time.
To follow up a universally beloved phenomenon like Parasite with something this audacious is no small feat, but Bong pulls it off with an almost mischievous confidence. Just as Mickey 17 endures the relentless torment of being an expendable, Bong Joon-Ho, fortunately, has faced no such suffering at the hands of Hollywood—at least not yet.
