With Eyes East

Directed by Bong Joon-ho
Starring Robert Pattinson, Naomi Ackie, Mark Ruffalo

It’s been a long winter. If I’m getting into my car these days, it’s to go to the grocery store to continue stocking up on canned goods for the coming economic recession or government collapse or whatever it’s gonna be. Tonight, as I waited for the engine to warm, I asked myself: “Do I really want to see this movie?” It was kind of an obligation, for two reasons. One, I’ve been writing a sci-fi story about clones and needed to know if I should stop, and two, Parasite was so good that I owe Director Bong. I’d also managed to avoid all trailers and plot details – even the cast list, beyond Pattinson – so why spoil that now, though it’s probably why I was feeling so neutral. What was there to excite me but the promise of another Bong Joon-ho movie? He’s been a little hit-or-miss, though I’m not sure if it’s just because I vibe so much with his friend and colleague Park Chan-wook. That man can ruin my night any day of the week, and by comparison, Bong’s sillier, more welcoming sensibilities are less appealing. As a sci-fi movie with a funny premise, Mickey 17 seemed poised to deliver the familiar thrills of The Host or Okja – undoubtedly with that satirical bite.

First of all, this is the Frenchest American movie (directed by a Korean guy) I’ve ever seen. The source material is an American novel, but I couldn’t help but think back to movies like Delicatessen and even The Fifth Element, for their gaudy human faces and Métal Hurlant worlds. In Mickey 17, Robert Pattinson plays a series of clones tasked not so much with menial labor as death, as part of a colony ship departing Earth. When they reach the far-flung planet, they’ll need to know if the air is breathable and not carrying a lethal pathogen, so they send Mickey out to the surface to inhale as vigorously as possible. The decidedly non-American part of this science fiction is in how the colony ship isn’t the result of a united world government but rather a butthurt politician looking to Andrew Ryan his way through the galaxy. Beyond the legal limits of the Earth’s atmosphere, the ship is home to all manner of unethical horrors, including of course “reprinting” a human being for use as a lab rat, attended to by vapid technicians whose smiles in total spell out the word “capitalism” in spooky font. If there happens to be a native species on this new planet, we know there’s gonna be trouble.

I have to say, though, the critique never really comes to anything, and I’m not sitting here in the aftermath shivering like I was with Parasite or Memories of Murder. It’s more that the world of the film is suffused with violence and corporate double-speak as a function of the story. Anything else, say, if the film were to unveil the villain as “capitalism, actually,” it would feel outdated, simplistic. It’s post-cynical, accepting that we live in a world so awful that the cruelties of the ultra-wealthy upon a working man like Mickey need no introduction. Instead, those cruelties come off as pretty funny, the way we laugh at a pop culture reference out of sheer recognition. I’m sure Mark Ruffalo’s getting docked on his performance like Jake Gyllenhaal was for Okja, but he had me laughing with every Botox-stiff line delivery. He was sort of Donald Trump, sort of Keith Raniere, all creepy and sputtering and far more vile than I’ve ever seen him. The whole cast is amazing, with everyone playing loud characters painted broadly. I especially liked the showdown between Naomi Ackie and Anamaria Vartolomei’s characters as they effectively barter over clone ownership. At some point, Ackie’s character just shouts “Shut up!” in the other’s face. It’s childish; arrested development the result of cult conditioning. Special mention must be made of Pattinson, of course, who proves here he could also play the Joker in 2027’s The Batman Part II.

So, I was surprised by how much Mickey 17 was a real sci-fi movie, which ironically makes it harder to recommend. The production design is gorgeous, on a par with industry standard Prometheus. And the story pursues actual sci-fi ideas – in this day and age! I remember reading Ubik and marveling over how many ideas were crammed in there: anti-psychics, exploding robots, space travel. In modern Hollywood, whether it’s Black Mirror or Severance, we tend to take one idea and explore its dramatic consequences, with all the time we’ve gained back from specializing. Which works out, as both shows cited are good, but it makes something like Mickey 17 feel more timeless. Midway through, there’s an anecdote about a man who uses the clone technology to create alibis for serial murders. It’s the suicide device in Soylent Green or the many-fingered pianist in Gattaca, these what-if detours that come from the nerdy curiosity at the heart of the genre. It’s not just about the human condition, it’s also about the machines and the aliens, too.

I was also surprised by how much of a movie Mickey 17 is. That’s one thing I can say for Bong – who’s become less hit-or-miss for me after this film – he prepares a whole meal. This is a night at the movies, you know, “you’ll laugh, you’ll cry.” Instead of leaving us with something to chew on, it’s geared toward sheer entertainment. A smart blockbuster, more concerned with the audience than the whims of the artist. It is funny, and tense and shocking and surprisingly touching. Parasite was a rollercoaster that left me shaken, and Mickey 17 is the rollercoaster where I’m going “Whoo!” or what have you. Incidentally, I found last year I don’t have the physical constitution for actual rollercoasters in my advanced age, so this will suffice. That said, it’s a thrill ride that runs over two hours long. Unlike with Nosferatu or even The Substance, I did feel the length in a couple of spots. But it’s so unpredictable and inventive that that’s almost expected, like a funhouse where, you know, not every room can be awesome.

Also, you might not like funhouses or rollercoasters. And you might not like movies about aliens, which Mickey 17 is, as I discovered in real time. I don’t want to gatekeep as a sci-fi fan, but I’m not used to seeing a true-blue genre exercise out of the Hermit Kingdom. I mean, it’s the book, but Bong isn’t taking the air out of the world even as he makes it as deliciously ugly as possible. At one point, Mark Ruffalo’s character looks out across an icy planetscape at a bunch of CGI stuff and says, “What’s all that bullshit?” It isn’t a wink at the camera, it’s just a big jerk whose reaction to something inexplicable is anger. It’s true to the elevated world of the movie, at once committed and silly, heartfelt and absurd. The aliens are rendered with non-photoreal visual effects, giving us an aesthetic rather than a doctrinal “this is how movies are supposed to look” look. It’s authored, by one of cinema’s great authors, who’s having fun here but taking that fun very seriously.