A long time ago, I read somewhere that the cells in our bodies turn over every seven years, shedding and regenerating into effectively a whole new version of ourselves on a biological level. While the truth is far more complicated, the sentiment of the claim remains: Be it on a cellular or experiential level, none of us is quite the same person we used to be.
For Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), the protagonist of Bong Joon Ho’s sci-fi black comedy Mickey 17, that’s both true and not. After getting in deep with a sadistic loan shark on Earth, Mickey and his friend Timo (Steven Yeun) sign up for a four-year mission aboard a colonization ship in a last-ditch act of desperation. Problem is, all the positions are filled, save for one: becoming a disposable clone worker who dies for science and gets reborn, known as an “Expendable.”
Bong’s work has always grappled with themes of class disparity and unchecked greed at the expense of human life, though especially in his sci-fi movies. 2006’s The Host was a not-so-subtle reaction to the McFarland pollution scandal of 2000, while 2013’s Snowpiercer and 2017’s Okja addressed the threat of ecological collapse and criticisms of factory farming, respectively. With Mickey 17, Bong circles back to fears of a climate apocalypse and the subjugation of the meek at the behest of the wicked. As an Expendable, Mickey has to be ready to literally die at the drop of a hat. His whole life is lived at the whims of others — only to be printed out and sent out to die all over again.
Shortly after arriving on Niflheim, the target of the colonization efforts, Mickey’s predicament takes another turn for the worse when, after he’s mistakenly pronounced dead, a duplicate of himself — Mickey 18 — is cloned to replace him. With no other choice, both Mickeys must find a way to keep their coexistence a secret from the rest of the crew at the risk of being executed.
It’s high-risk, but it’s funny as shit, too. Bong uses the premise of Edward Ashton’s original novel Mickey7 as a springboard for his own mischievous sense of horror. The proof is in the title alone, with Bong changing the title to Mickey 17 because “if it’s your job [to die], you should go through it more times.” We see Mickey die several horrible, undignified deaths, both at the hands of the colony ship’s comically inept science team and the inhospitable conditions of deep space travel. Mickey’s body is practically shat out of the cloning machine that reconstructs him after each death, which sporadically stops midway and sucks him back in like a literal printer that’s run out of toner.
Robert Pattinson is game for practically everything Bong can throw at him, disappearing into the hunched and twitchy posture of a beleaguered clone worker with gleeful abandon and unabashed weirdness. With an almost Steve Buscemi-esque vocal fry as Mickey 17, you’d be forgiven for forgetting this same performer played a brooding, jackbooted vigilante not more than three years ago. Pattinson’s dueling portrayals of Mickey 17 and Mickey 18 are captivating and fully realized, with the former playing the timid foil to the quick-tempered and lascivious latter.
If there’s a breakout character in Mickey 17, it’s Mickey 18, whose chaotic mannerisms and propensity for violence become the catalyst for much of the pair’s misfortune in the film’s second act. He’s like the live-action version of Murdoc Niccals from Gorillaz. But he’s more than just an instigating thorn in Mickey 17’s side; Mickey 18 is also inadvertently the one other person he can be completely honest with. At one point, Mickey 17 ruminates over something he regrets from the past, which Mickey 18 rebuffs and then offers his own perspective. In some ways, Mickey 18 is less a clone and more of a twisted younger sibling who shares the same lived experiences, but not quite the same baggage that comes along with them. Through their relationship, Mickey 17 gains something he never had: perspective. It’s vital, for this point, that Pattinson truly feels like two separate people — which, not only does he, but you really feel like he could just keep coming up with new facets of Mickey to highlight. Bong brings out the best in Pattinson as a performer, and likewise, Pattinson’s capacity as an actor is the perfect conduit through which to explore Bong’s ideas on identity and personal growth.
Pattinson doesn’t steal all the spotlight, though. Mark Ruffalo and Toni Collette are excellent and instantly hateable as the film’s antagonists Kenneth Marshall, the egomaniacal chiclet-toothed commander of the colony expedition, and his wife, Ylfa. Steven Yeun plays the worst “best friend” Mickey could ever have: a selfish slimeball whom Mickey 18 takes an almost instant homicidal disliking to.
By far the most laud-worthy performance, though, second to Pattinson’s, is Naomi Ackie as Nasha, Mickey’s cool and confident love interest who takes to the idea of having two genetically identical lovers with quite surprising zeal. Ackie and Pattinson’s scenes together are tender, affectionate, and yes, occasionally very sexy. In a world where Mickey’s life is quite literally treated as expendable, Nasha is the only person who sees and appreciates him — every version of him — for who he is. Their love story gives the movie a bedrock, a constant reminder that Mickey is still a person, even when he can’t really think about himself that way.
There’s a lot of interesting ideas at play in Mickey 17, from its farcical depiction of quasi-corpocratic religious institutions to its playful exploration of the nature of identity and labor. At the heart of the film’s multilayered ideas, though, is the story of a man coming to grips with his own apparent disposability in a callous and indifferent universe and figuring out what’s worth sticking up for. We’ve all known Mickey Barnes at some point in our lives; hell, some of us might’ve even been Mickey Barnes at one point or another. If there’s one thing to take away from Bong’s story of clones and sex jokes, it’s that it’s never too late to change.
Mickey 17 hits theaters March 7.
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