by Oscar O’Sullivan

From the moment Bong Joon Ho’s Mickey 17 was first announced and people learned of it’s sci-fi premise, a cloning mishap resulting in two versions of the same expendable worker co-existing, there was one question that was always on the forefront of people’s minds during the long, oft-delayed wait for the film’s release – will Robert Pattinson fuck himself? Disappointingly, no. He doesn’t even give himself a little kiss, making the whole affair a waste of time altogether.

Am I joking? Not really. The lack of Pattinson-on-Pattinson action is just a symptom of the film’s struggle to take full advantage of the central premise, which gets lost in the shuffle amid a rather generic space exploration yarn/political allegory. Pattinson plays the titular Mickey, who we meet on the verge of death in a frosty crevice on an alien world. As an “Expendable” on a galactic mission, Mickey is more bored than scared of his impending doom, as his personality and memories will be swiftly uploaded into a clone body, ready to do it all over again. We learn all this through an extended flashback, showing Mickey impulsively signing onto the programme to escape his troubled life on a dystopian Earth, and quickly regretting his decision when he’s used as a lab rat/test dummy/general recipient of suffering over and over again, dying sixteen times in various ways during the 40 minute long pre-title sequence. It’s not all bad for Mickey though, as he almost immediately finds love aboard the colony vessel in the form of feisty security officer Nasha (Naomi Ackie), who showers affection on each and every version of Mickey. Their relationship is approached in a refreshingly simple way, not bothering to justify how or why they fell for each other. Instead, their connection is quickly established and reinforced, their love so self-evident in the way they interact that neither the audience nor the characters themselves question it for even a minute.

All of this exposition is necessary to set the stage, but runs so long that it feels like it could be expanded into a movie all of its own. What we are left with is Mickey’s first 16 lives and a metric tonne of world-building crammed into forty minutes, speeding past what was meant to be one of the film’s selling points – watching our hero die over and over again in brutal (and hilarious) ways. Instead, we are firmly stuck with the titular 17th Mickey for the bulk of the film, as he decides that he really doesn’t want to die after all. The only alternate Mickey we get to spend any time with is Mickey 18, a surly, aggressive clone printed when 17 was presumed dead. 18 immediately sets about trying to murder his predecessor, but quickly mellows out when Nasha gets excited about the prospect of two Mickeys to play with (hey now, get your mind out of the gutter). However, despite Pattinson working hard to differentiate the clones and the many moral, philosophical and ethical quandaries the premise of the co-existing duplicates raise, all that potential is quickly brushed aside after a couple of comic escapades to make way for the much less interesting main plot, with deranged expedition leader Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo giving an SNL-standard Trump pastiche) waging war against the harmless alien inhabitants of the new planet. Questions of Mickey’s personhood, how much 17 and 18 really are the same person, the ethics of Nasha romancing both at once, all forgotten and subsumed by high-stakes action and broad political commentary.

One can’t help but feel that the film gives up on pursuing its own identity, simply folding the cloning story into a stock sci-fi adventure. The result is a film that feels decidedly muddled, too many competing messages and ideas drowning each other out. Ruffalo’s performance as the flouncing, egomaniacal, self-absorbed eugenicist colony leader is admittedly fun, but also out-of-step tonally with large portions of the film – it feels like he’s often trying to reel himself back in to better suit the more grounded mis-en-scene of the work as a whole, causing the more pointedly satirical and elevated scenes to stand out even more. It’s also obviously self-conscious, Ruffalo unable to avoid indicating that he’s in on the joke. Perhaps a more naturally arrogant performer could have been better for the role – think a motor-mouthing Alec Baldwin or Walton Goggins in unabashed sleaze-ball mode. Toni Collette strikes a better balance as his prissy, plastic wife, but she winds up underserved by the plot, an accessory to his madness who is often hinted to be the real decision-maker, a plot-point that never amounts to anything. Most characters suffer from a lack of exploration or motivation – for example, Steve Park appears in a brief, barely acknowledged role early in the film before suddenly becoming a prominent player in the finale, while Steven Yeun flits in and out as Mickey’s hustler buddy Timo, who seems to be living out his own harrowing adventure that only occasionally overlaps with Mickey’s struggles.

Despite the plot pulling our attention in so many directions, it’s easy to stay engaged with the central thrust of events thanks to Pattinson’s beaten-dog performance as 17, so desperately pathetic and cringingly shy that you can’t help but love him. Even as the broader stakes skew generic, we want to see Mickey make it out in one piece, especially because his ride-or-die relationship with Nasha gives him something concrete to live for. This also helps to make Nasha an inherently likeable character in spite of her inconsistent role in the story, not to mention Naomi Ackie’s incredibly fun performance. I was a little less taken by Mickey 18, who never receives as much focus as his weedier counterpart despite being a potentially interesting character in his own right. His rowdier personality and motivations to take action aren’t properly explored, and it feels like there’s never a proper reckoning or understanding achieved between these two versions of the same person – what if they had learned how to embody each others’ opposite traits to become more complete, well-rounded people? The climax and epilogue of the film paint the themes with a broad brush, basically effective in wrapping things up but lacking a true sense of impact or finality for the characters.

Visually, the film has its ups and downs – there are some great shots of the frozen planet and grimy sci-fi interiors, but some images are strangely flat and unconvincing, especially when multiple characters are left to idle around during long, dialogue heavy showdowns. Bong Joon Ho is known for directing visually playful films, and there are plenty of cheeky camera movements and editing tricks to keep audiences amused throughout, but I can’t help but feel that the film as a whole has wound up strangely conventional in its entire approach. Compared to his first English-language film, Snowpiercer, which took a fairly conventional dystopian premise and elevated it into something completely insane, Mickey 17 fails to be sufficiently silly or gritty, falling into a safe, pedestrian middle ground. The costumes and production design are fairly unadventurous, convincingly conceived and executed but hardly eye-catching, with the one exceptional piece of concept work for the film being the alien Creepers, an adorable mix of larval and elephantine features that feel genuinely alien while remaining obviously non-threatening and endearing.

Again, I cannot stress this enough, what a wasted opportunity to not have a twisted Challengers-style clone three-way with the two Pattinsons. It’s unlikely that another film will ever have the chance to pull that off (unless The Batman sequel gets really ‘Silver Age’ with it) and it speaks to Mickey 17‘s general lack of follow-through on the many wonderfully weird and exciting ideas it presents. Far from badly made, still a solid piece of off-kilter entertainment, but a disappointment when measured up against what it could easily have been. 7/10.