Mickey 17

On the one hand, the end of his life isn’t exactly the end of the world — as an Expendable, Mickey can be reprinted and resurrected an infinite number of times, a sci-fi cross between Lazarus and Kenny from South Park. He’s there to do the dirty work no one else can, not to live long long and prosper. Sometimes he receives a fatal dose of radiation during a spacewalk, while other times he’s exposed to a lethal virus as he takes one giant leap for mankind on the surface of an uncharted planet.

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On the other hand, death is still a frightening experience — especially now that Mickey’s crewmates have jumped the gun by printing his 18th iteration while the 17th was missing and incorrectly presumed dead. Now the unwitting twins are dreaded Multiples, which are verboten not only on Earth, as Expendables are, but on deep-space expeditions like this one. There’s only one recourse in such a situation: permanent deletion of all copies. There’s also a good reason for this line in the sand. Multiples open up an even messier can of ethical worms than Exendables do, raising questions of personhood and culpability in the event that one or both of them commits a crime.

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Even after dying well over a dozen times, though, 17’s survival instinct remains intact: “If one of us has to go,” he says upon meeting 18, “it ain’t gonna be me.”

To call Mickey 17 highly anticipated would be putting it lightly. It’s writer/director Bong Joon-ho’s long-awaited follow-up to Parasite, the first movie not in the English language to win Best Picture (Bong also took home Oscars for his screenplay and direction). It’s been just under six years since Parasite won the Palme d’Or at Cannes — only three others, including Anora, have earned both that prize and Best Picture — and more than a year since Mickey 17 was originally scheduled for release. Whether you consider the many delays worth it might depend on which half of Bong’s filmography you favor.

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Anyone expecting another Parasite will be disappointed, while those who prefer Bong in straightforward genre mode will be delighted. This is much closer to his Snowpiercer and Okja than it is so Mother and Memories of Murder, and not just because it’s in English. Bong has always used high-concept trappings to make movies that navigate serious subjects without taking themselves too seriously, most memorably in his creature feature The Host, and here he has everything from colonialism and the ethics of cloning to propaganda and ethnic cleansing on his mind. There’s also plenty of levity, bringing his latest effort closer to body humor than body horror despite the inherent gruesomeness of its premise.

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“Whatever genre I choose,” Bong has said of his approach, “I intend to destroy it.” Mickey 17 builds up as much as it destroys, especially expectations. It’s adapted from the novel Mickey7 by Edward Ashton, but anyone familiar with Bong’s past work would be forgiven for thinking he dreamt up the idea himself.

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Both Mickeys are portrayed by Robert Pattinson, here affecting an unplaceable accent that would make Tom Hardy proud. After coming of age onscreen in the Harry Potter and Twilight franchises, Pattinson has come into his own by collaborating with such world-renowned auteurs as David Cronenberg (Cosmopolis and Maps to the Stars), Claire Denis (High Life), and Christopher Nolan (Tenet). He plays 17 as a kind of little brother who’s always being picked on — not thrilled about the way he’s treated, but too passive to stand up for himself — and 18 as a devil-may-care bully. They’re two sides of the same coin, just as this movie initially plays as a gender-swapped version of The Substance. Only by respecting the balance and remembering that they are one can 17 and 18 succeed against their common enemy.

Mickey 17 builds up as much as it destroys, especially expectations.

That would be the failed politician leading this trip to the planet Niflheim to advance his own aims (Mark Ruffalo, overacting even more egregiously than he did in Poor Things) at the expense of its native wildlife. He’s a cartoon character of an antagonist, over the top in both accent and ambition, with Ruffalo chewing the scenery at every opportunity. Pattinson’s dual performance is much more watchable and engaging — he knows when to be zany and when to be solemn, striking the same delicate balance that Bong is.

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As for the question of why anyone would sign up for such a job, the answer is simple: Because they’re poor, of course. Mickey 17 is no less a class satire than Parasite was, nor is it any less subtle. Being a canary in the coal mine affords Mickey no privileges or gratitude, as those with the means to pursue other opportunities consider the job and whoever holds it beneath them. If the last few years have taught us anything, it’s how society treats the workers it deems essential.

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What follows from these ideas is ungainly, as some of the narrative threads never tie together as satisfyingly as you’d expect from a filmmaker of Bong’s stature, but it’s also bold and audacious in a way few Hollywood productions carrying a price tag of $118 million are. This is exactly the kind of project people are talking about when they say they want the major studios to take more risks rather than make more superhero movies. Whether Mickey 17 is rewarded for its ambition or tossed aside like its protagonist remains to be seen.