Mickey 17 Review: Robert Pattinson's Film Is More Forgettable Than Impactful

Bong Joon Ho's Mickey 17 opens with the kind of existential quirkiness that feels straight out of a science-fiction fever dream, but beneath the surface of absurdist humor and surreal visuals lies an unflinching exploration of identity, class struggle, and the human condition. 

It's the kind of film that, in the hands of a less confident director, could have devolved into a muddled mess of philosophical ponderings and misguided slapstick. 

But Bong, with his unrivaled mastery of genre-bending and tonal flexibility, crafts a story that is both profoundly deep and absurdly fun-without ever losing sight of its core emotional truth. 

A movie about dying, being reborn, and repeating the cycle ad nauseam might sound like a grim premise, but Mickey 17 gleams with the same dark humor and sharp political commentary that has come to define Bong's career.

Set in a dystopian future, Mickey 17 follows Robert Pattinson's titular character, Mickey, a lowly "Expendable" on an intergalactic mission to colonise a distant planet. The job description is as grim as it sounds: Mickey and his fellow "Expendables" are tasked with dangerous experiments and hazardous assignments that inevitably lead to their untimely deaths. 

Each time Mickey dies, his consciousness is uploaded and transferred into a newly-cloned body, effectively making him immortal, albeit in the most horrific way possible. The film's premise hinges on the absurdity and cruelty of this cycle. 

Mickey is a pawn in a game much larger than himself, caught between the exploitation of corporate greed and the indifference of a spacefaring elite that uses him as little more than cannon fodder. As he dies, and is reborn again, we witness a man who gradually begins to question not just his fate, but the very system that condemns him to an endless loop of sacrifice and revival.

The film's final act shifts gears, embracing the absurdity of its premise while still pushing forward with themes of resistance and survival. As Mickey faces off against his own clones-both the gentle, downtrodden Mickey 17 and the more ruthless Mickey 18-there is a deeper philosophical question at play: What does it mean to truly live when one's existence is reduced to nothing more than a series of recycled bodies and repeated mistakes? 

The film presents a world where life and death lose their meaning, and yet, Mickey's struggle against his fate becomes an allegory for human perseverance in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.

The plot, based on Edward Ashton's novel Mickey7, is built on an intriguing foundation, but the execution never quite reaches its intended depth. 

Mickey's repeated deaths and rebirths should be an emotional core, but instead, it feels more like a gimmick that is stretched thin. The existential weight of the character's endless cycle of life and death is there in theory, but it never truly resonates emotionally, perhaps because the film often prioritises absurdist humor and slapstick moments over genuine introspection. 

This shift in tone is jarring, leaving the audience unsure whether to laugh, reflect, or simply disengage.

Pattinson's performance is commendable, but even he struggles with a script that doesn't give him much to work with. His portrayal of Mickey 17 as a dim-witted, resigned figure works in the beginning but starts to feel repetitive as the film progresses. 

His second iteration, Mickey 18, offers a bit more intrigue as a more aggressive and self-interested version of the character, but even that transformation lacks the kind of sharp contrast that would make the character's evolution compelling.

The film also struggles with pacing. The first half drags as it sets up the premise without much forward momentum, relying on lengthy exposition and dialogue-heavy scenes that fail to build tension. The satire aimed at class structures, corporate greed, and political figures, while present, is both obvious and underdeveloped, making the film feel more like a series of loosely connected ideas rather than a cohesive narrative. 

Mark Ruffalo's portrayal of the villainous Marshall, a populist figure whose personality seems to be a thinly veiled reference to real-world politicians, is grating and over-the-top, detracting from rather than enhancing the film's message.

Visually, Mickey 17 offers some striking moments, with Bong's familiar attention to detail in set design and creature creation. However, the film's tone and story undermine the potential for a truly immersive experience. 

The alien creatures, though unique, are underused and never manage to rise beyond mere props for the plot. The cold, icy landscape of the planet Nilfheim is visually impressive but lacks the emotional weight to truly elevate the film's atmosphere.

Ultimately, Mickey 17 feels like a missed opportunity. Bong Joon Ho's skill as a filmmaker is undeniable, but here, the story doesn't have the emotional depth or coherent narrative structure needed to match his directorial talents. 

What should have been a thought-provoking, genre-bending exploration of humanity's flaws becomes a chaotic, uneven film that never fully connects with its audience. 

It's a clever idea with too many competing elements, resulting in a movie that's more forgettable than impactful.

from NDTV News Search Records Found 1000 https://ift.tt/zb4oDwl
via Pooja