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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
From his very first feature film (Barking Dogs Never Bite, 2000), it has been clear that Bong Joon-ho is no stranger to black humor. He is preoccupied with class differences, politics, and, fitting for a humanities scholar with a degree in sociology, his films are without exception social deep-drillings, mediated through a lens dipped in vitriol—or rather, through cameras that capture a satirical vision. He presents our world in warped mirrors that often provoke laughter, yet the aftertaste is mostly bitter, as we experienced in the most refined form of this method while watching Parasite (2019). And besides... he loves animals. Furthermore, in a cinematic sense, he is a homo ludens (a playful man), who enjoys playing with film genres and transgressing their supposedly stone-carved rules—a trait he certainly does not share alone within the camp of Korean filmmakers.
While he previously signed prestigious, internationally successful works by kneading together elements of social drama, crime film (Memories of Murder, 2003), horror (The Host, 2006), or thriller (Mother, 2009)—all of which were domestically focused films—his more recent, Western-produced works have seen a shift in perspective: questioning global issues, there emerged science fiction, an interest in ecology, and the theme of researcher responsibility (already foreshadowed by The Host). However, these creations all sketched dystopian visions of the future, with only faint lights at the end of their stories.
As a definition, one would most strongly snap back that this is a potent political satire, but Bong Joon-ho himself provides a sobering perspective, having stated that he would not pick up a camera merely for the sake of political satire unless he could make it part of a more complex entity. So, what else is Mickey 17 besides that? It is a space film, as we are heading to another planet. It is science fiction, as we are cloning humans in it. It is a romance, as the story is strung upon a relationship. It is a social tableau, as it matters who gets onto the spaceship and how the very idea of this new kind of colonization arises in the first place. It is a political warped mirror, as the adventurers of politics appear in it in an exaggerated fashion, with their obsessed ideological drivel and nauseating toolkit, their painfully one-dimensional goals hidden behind falling masks. And it is a somber comedy, permeated by black humor playing with life and death.
The screenplay for Mickey 17 was written by Bong Joon-ho, based on Edward Ashton’s novel Mickey7, published in 2022. The film begins with a startling opening, in which our protagonist falls into a deep cave in a frozen landscape where certain death awaits him; however, his companion arriving there rescues not him, but only his weapon, while wishing him a good death and a goodbye until tomorrow during a pleasant chat. We learn through a flashback what happened: due to a collapsed business, the two friends see escaping loan sharks only by volunteering for an expedition preparing to colonize the planet Niflheim and fleeing Earth. However, there is a great crush, as they have many fellow sufferers with similar plans with whom they must compete to win a position ensuring the journey. Since Mickey is unskilled in everything, he signs up as an "Expendable" without reading what that actually entails. But anything could come, as he is haunted by the sound of the chainsaw with which the gangsters threatened him. Even these first scenes are permeated by a certain Baroque richness of references to cinematic precursors, as well as absurd humor (the chief loan shark is called Darius Blank), which becomes truly chilling in the sequences showing those gathering for the ship.
Specifically, the expedition is led by a failed politician named Kenneth Marshall, who, with the help of his fanatical followers, lobbied for support from some religious organization. The media workers arriving at the departure site interview his fanaticized supporters, who babble about a "pure planet." True, the reporter's questions already flew with phrases like "anti-migration" or "fixing the Earth." What sends a shiver down the viewer's spine is the scene's uncanny resemblance to what is seen in government programs on today’s television—whether in our country or in many others. I cannot deny that due to the bitter experiences of our past decades in Hungary, the resonance is much stronger, almost as if Bong Joon-ho had drawn from our own state propaganda as well. "One & Only"—proclaims the politician's slogan, the exclusivity of his own existence and truth. Meanwhile, the "Marshall business" flows with the hawking of various discount-purchasable items through loudspeakers, and in the corridors of the spiral structure, the flow of people inches toward the unknown like the students in The Wall into the gigantic meat grinder.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
Finally, our hero, who considers himself good for nothing, learns that his fate from then on is continuous death and rebirth. The method for this is that his body is reprinted within 20 hours following each demise from the compost of the spaceship's organic waste, into which his digitized memories, updated to the appropriate version number of his being, are uploaded. Poor Mickey indeed seems quite simple-minded, as even during the briefing, he can only focus on the scent of the woman's hair.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
Mickey, however, becomes acquainted with Nasha, one of the peacekeepers, and they fall in love, making the years of travel fly by more quickly. Their relationship is simultaneously grotesque and uplifting due to Mickey’s status, as the woman loves all Mickey versions, and she is the only one who realizes that for the man, dying might still be a terrifying experience; thus, she remains by his side during those moments. Speaking of death: everyone is curious about Mickey’s experience of it. The man only answers once, and even then, he says he doesn't know, because in the knowledge of his rebirth, his is not a true death.
His users think the same, exposing the man to shockingly cruel testing and
experiments with total peace of mind. (One cannot help but think of infamous
social-psychological experiments, such as the Milgram experiment.) Finally,
upon arriving at the planet, they use a similar method to create the vaccine
necessary to endure the atmosphere, while due to the casualties, Mickey
reaches his 17th version. This is where we loop back to the opening scene, in
which the man is supposed to die in the icy cave, but that is not what
happens. Instead, something unexpected occurs: the indigenous inhabitants of
the planet appear and save his life—except that in the meantime, Mickey 18 has
already been printed, and the cardinal rule is that if two clone versions
exist simultaneously, both must be permanently destroyed.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
The further developments should remain the film's secrets, though it is clear
that the two versions must figure out what to do with each other, Nasha with
her doubled love, the inhabitants of the spaceship with their unfulfilled
promises, Marshall—who increasingly pushes a Nazi ideology—with the
realization of his phantasmagorias, and everyone with the planet's natives,
who, despite their giant-bug-like appearance, seem more intelligent than the
"crowns of earthly creation."
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
From all of this, the current problems preoccupying Bong Joon-ho emerge sharply, which most likely coincide with the questions of humanity’s still-thinking minority. The starting situation raises the question: how did we get ourselves into such a wretched position that for many, escaping the earthly habitat seems the only solution? How is it possible that we cannot reach an agreement even on moral issues such as human cloning, and there are always loopholes for the lunatics who circumvent sober considerations and find ways to use them for their own selfish interests? What a symbolic image it is: contrasted with the divine power capable of creating life from matter is the shoddy human solution that tries to play God by creating from waste and dross! What can be done with the human parasites whose rule is made possible by the suggestibility of the stupid, dazed masses? What kind of ideologies can man give birth to when power-madness clouds his brain? From Marshall's mouth, we hear the same phrases and bon mots being blustered that are voiced today by namable politicians and world leaders across the globe. How long can such obvious atrocities be lied to people's faces—that the planet's natives are the "aliens" who are obstacles to our (the intruders') expansion?
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
Yet the director also does much to alleviate the tension; his images and
scenes are often absurd to the point of provoking laughter (my favorite is the
back-and-forth movement of the human figure during printing or its impossible
postures), and he is not afraid to joke directly either, such as when he
exposes the bluffing of the bug creatures.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Mickey 17.) |
Bong Joon-ho's visuals are once again stunning in their color schemes and compositions. It was very interesting to see in a behind-the-scenes film the precision with which he shot, based on visual precursors pre-planned in storyboards. The design of the planetary inhabitants is also the work of the director and Jang Hee-chul; the two of them previously conceived the monster of The Host as well.
The credit for portraying all the Mickey variants and conveying their growing self-awareness goes to Robert Pattinson, who balances excellently on the razor's edge of the character's humorous and tragic traits. In the role of Nasha, Naomi Ackie serves as the story’s human (and female) compass to which one can align, never faltering in her judgments of situations or her emotions. The choice of Mark Ruffalo and Toni Collette for the leading couple is a bullseye; they play these unhinged figures with such profound immersion. Reportedly, Bong Joon-ho’s request was for Ruffalo to knead his character together from many different types of dictators, yet the film's reviewers immediately and unequivocally claim to recognize Trump in him. To this, I would only say, in a more folksy manner, that "this isn't my first rodeo"—as I indicated above how I related it to my own domestic reality; thus, all these diverse precursors are indeed present.
Bong Joon-ho’s visuals are again bolstered by the music of Jung Jaeil, with whom he now forms a well-established creative duo. Jung's music is surprisingly lyrical but contains countless ideas. The romantic scenes are accompanied by soft, somewhat melancholic waltzes; often a piano solo dominates, which doubles just like Mickey 17 when he meets his 18th self. We hear Arabian melodies, the lulling sounds of a music box, and music reminiscent of gospel, tango, and klezmer, which occasionally surge forward to culminate in the atmosphere of a silent-film chase or demonstrate power with the blare of brass instruments. My favorite, however, is the magnificent musical idea where the planetary inhabitants are accompanied by the deeply and mystically resonating fundamental notes of throat singing and the whistling of overtones. Jung Jaeil’s musical solutions are extremely precise, and his thoroughness extends so far that he even saves a surprise for the very end of the credits. The characters of the film (Mark Ruffalo, Toni Collette, Daniel Henshall, and Anamaria Vartolomei) sing the biblical lines of "Rejoice in the Lord" to a klezmer-like melody, but in a way that sounds simultaneously like joy and lamentation—as if they were intoxicated by the joy of escaping the film’s dark vision, or perhaps by their sorrow at having to return to our earthly reality, where nothing remains for us but a deep faith in the victory of good. For us, it is important to note that a portion of the soundtrack was recorded in Budapest, Hungary.
Perhaps one should also write about the still-regularly heard croaking of
those Western critics who express their resentment toward the unusual
genre-blending of Eastern directors. But I will not, because I believe it is
finally time to abandon these complaints—partly in the interest of recognizing
and respecting creative freedom, and partly realizing that it is precisely
these genre-mixtures that allow for a multifaceted exploration of a theme, and
through their surprising associations of thought, they can greatly enhance the
enjoyment value of a work.
Disclaimer: All images from Mickey 17 are property of the respective production studios and are used here under Fair Use for the purpose of criticism and review.
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