Mickey 17 Review: Robert Pattinson, Naomi Ackie, Steven Yeun’s Film Is A Tale Of Two Pattinsons, One Overcooked Satire

Title: Mickey 17

Director: Bong Joon-ho

Cast: Robert Pattinson, Naomi Ackie, Steven Yeun, Toni Collette, Mark Ruffalo, Daniel Henshall, Stuart Whelan, Johnny Li Gotti

Where: In theatres near you

Rating: 3 Stars

Bong Joon-ho’s Mickey 17, based on Edward Ashton’s 2022 novel Mickey 7, arrives with the weight of expectation—his first film post-Parasite, starring an ever-game Robert Pattinson, and a premise rich with darkly comic, existential dilemmas. Yet, despite its intriguing foundation, the film teeters between biting social commentary and broad satire, never fully landing its punches.

Set in 2054 the film follows Mickey Barnes (Pattinson), an “Expendable” on a mission to colonize the icy planet Niflheim. His job is simple: die, get reprinted, and do it all over again. When Mickey 17 unexpectedly survives what should have been his final demise, only to return and find Mickey 18 already printed, the stage is set for an identity crisis wrapped in corporate dystopia. Unfortunately, the film, much like its titular protagonist(s), seems to struggle with what version of itself it truly wants to be.

Pattinson delivers a committed, shape-shifting performance, switching seamlessly between the bewildered, squeaky-voiced Mickey 17 and his more self-assured successor. His physicality and vocal differentiation breathe life into the film’s central conceit, often carrying scenes that would otherwise feel hollow. The supporting cast, however, is given little to work with. Mark Ruffalo’s Kenneth Marshall, the colony’s power-hungry leader, is a garish caricature—a blend of Trumpian bluster, Muskian delusions, and mega-church theatrics, complete with exaggerated veneers and an obsession with genetic purity. His wife, Ylfa- played by Toni Collette, chews the scenery with a fixation on sauces that might have been funny if it weren’t so underdeveloped.

Bong’s signature critique of capitalism, inequality, and human folly is ever-present but curiously toothless. Where Parasite was razor-sharp in its dissection of class structures, Mickey 17 leans on familiar dystopian tropes without adding much that feels urgent or revelatory. The satire is so broad it borders on the cartoonish. While the visual spectacle is undeniable—Darius Khondji’s cinematography lends both Niflheim’s frozen landscapes and the colony’s interiors a foreboding beauty—the worldbuilding often feels rushed, as if cramming in details to move on.

The film’s central dilemma—two versions of the same person navigating a system designed to erase individuality—holds promise but never quite achieves emotional resonance. Solutions to seemingly insurmountable problems arise with baffling ease, and the script sidesteps deeper philosophical questions about identity, mortality, and self-worth in favour of erratic pacing and tonal inconsistency.

To its credit, Mickey 17 is never dull. Bong’s penchant for genre fluidity ensures moments of slapstick humour, eerie suspense, and absurdist farce, all jostling for attention. But unlike his best works, where tonal shifts feel deliberate and masterful, here they often feel disjointed, making the film a fascinating but frustrating watch.

While Pattinson’s bravura performance and Bong’s visual ingenuity make Mickey 17 an engaging ride, it ultimately lacks the sharpness and thematic depth that could have made it a great one. In the end, much like Mickey himself, the film finds itself caught between two identities—one that could have been profound and one that settles for passable entertainment.