6/10
In one of American history’s most tumultuous political periods, and on the brink of a race to define the world’s future, filmmakers seem to be in a competition of their own: to create the definitive satire of the era. Satires like Death of A Unicorn and Opus come out later this month, while one of the year’s most anticipated films, Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another, releases this summer. Mickey 17 is Oscar-winning writer and director Bong Joon-ho’s mediocre submission to that race.
Creating a good satire is a near-impossible task with the finest margins of error. Satire is where good creatives fail and the greats claim their iconic status.
Satires are supposed to be sharp. They rely on one premise or joke, and they ride it until the end. If they overstay their welcome or overcomplicate that premise, they become painfully confusing. If their comedy doesn’t hit or their plot isn’t thrilling enough, they become endless bores. If the social commentary seems far-fetched, they start to feel pointless.
Bong is unsuccessful for two main reasons. The first: it needs an edit.
The film is set in a near future, where a disgraced ex-politician (Mark Ruffalo) and his off-the-rails wife (Toni Collette) lead a space mission to the ice planet Niflheim. Childhood friends Mickey (Robert Pattinson) and Timo (Steven Yuen) see the expedition as an opportunity to escape loan sharks.
In order to get a spot on the sought-after mission, Mickey signs up as an expendable—an explorer whose job is to die doing extreme tasks before being reprinted. While on the ship, Mickey meets and falls in love with Nasha (Naomi Ackie). The movie also includes alien creatures named “creepers,” confusing religious figures, and countless unimportant minor characters.
These unending deviations from the main conflict—which is the accidental printing of multiple versions of Mickey at the same time, requiring a total elimination of all versions of him—only make the film bloated. A good third of the film should’ve been chopped off the script pre-shoot or snipped out in the editing room.
The first act is marked by endless exposition, annoying voiceovers, and a surprising lack of montages. When your movie is named Mickey 17, the viewer should get a montage of the previous 16 Mickeys dying brutal deaths while Pattinson makes wild character choices. Maybe Bong is trying to break the rules of a sci-fi blockbuster, and while some of his choices can be appreciated for their ambition, genre rules exist for a reason.
The second act is rather unproblematic, leaning into Mickey 17 and 18’s rocky relationship and danger of being eliminated, but it goes by quickly, leaving a full hour for a pointless and fussy third act. When, with about 45 minutes left, all characters are brought into a war room for a “final battle,” the movie starts to feel like an updated fanfic of satires past (namely, Dr. Strangelove). It’s an unoriginal puddle of goop sloshing around in the “nice try” bin of mainstream satire.
The second main issue with the film: it’s not funny.
Every country has unique satirical patterns. American satire differs greatly from British satire, and both differ astronomically from Indian or Nigerian or Korean satire. Though Bong has spent much of the film’s press tour insisting that Mickey 17 isn’t necessarily about American politics, its depictions of imperialism, late-stage capitalism, and a dictator with orange-tinted skin, obsessive followers who wear red hats, and a blonde trophy wife make Mickey 17 feel like a pointed criticism of America.
For a film trying to satirize the U.S., Bong’s script feels disappointingly distant from the pillars of American comedy culture. His characters are cartoon bobbleheads of political figures. For a director with such a distinct outlook on the world, Mickey 17 feels like a script anyone could’ve written.
Some of its visual gags translate, and some actors, specifically Pattinson and Collette, make some funny choices, but very few of the written jokes work at all. They’re the type of jokes a weird dude you barely know tells you at a party, and you just tilt your head, shrug at him, and blink until you can excuse yourself from the conversation.
This is not to say that Mickey 17 is a horrible movie. It’s not perfect, but it has a lot going for it.
Pattinson can flat-out act. Mickey is a tough role, demanding extreme confidence and Lindsay Lohan-level twin acting, both of which Pattinson nails.
On paper, Mickey 17 is your typical do-no-wrong sci-fi hero, like Paul Atradeis in Dune or Luke Skywalker in Star Wars. But Pattinson’s choice to give him an accent that can only be described as watered-down Steve Buscemi and to make 17 wimpy, whiney, and pathetic create a weird but lovable character.
Match that with Mickey 18’s domineering, brooding artist type, and Pattinson delivers two phenomenal, complicated characters. His choices are completely out-of-left-field, but they work seamlessly and provide spontaneity throughout the film. His fantastic choices only make it more disappointing that the audience doesn’t get to see Pattinson do 16 more characters in a fun five-minute montage.
Most of the supporting actors, however, feel either too plain or too on-the-nose. Ruffalo’s portrayal of fist-pumping dictator Kenneth Marshall is way too derivative. Ackie’s Nasha is also painfully dull, and when she tries to do something interesting, she comes off quite jarring.
Collette, on the other hand, is fabulous. Her portrayal of Ylfa, Marshall’s wife, is unhinged in all the right ways. She is feral, resting on the shoulder of her husband, whispering in evil whimpers, and thirsting over an unexplained “sauce.” She is comedic perfection and a visual representation of the potential Mickey 17 had.
Bong’s technical direction is still as strong as ever. His ability to use interesting camera movements and framing techniques while never allowing them to overshadow the story is admirable. His smart usage of pale, earthy tones allows the scenery, which is mostly a spaceship and an ice planet, to never feel stale.
Mickey 17 is an enjoyable ride. Bong’s technical expertise is on full display, and Pattinson and Collette excel in memorable showcases of their true talents. But aside from that, all Mickey 17 does is prove that if film is going to play a role in the coming years’ political conflicts, satires will need to be smarter, funnier, and much more concise.
