As a Korean, the awards-season sweep of “Parasite” in 2019 was a source of ironic national pride. But I also saw it as an embrace of brutally authentic storytelling, in which issues such as class division were explored from a provocative and distinctly personal vantage point. 

I found it curious but captivating that director and writer Bong Joon Ho’s next project would be an English-language film, an adaptation of “Mickey7,” which is a 2022 science fiction novel about space travel and human cloning. Nevertheless, as the follow-up to a scathing satirical masterpiece, I had lofty expectations for “Mickey 17.” 

The film centers on Mickey Barnes (Robert Pattinson), an “expendable” human guinea pig on a space colonization mission who repeatedly dies and gets “reprinted.” When a new Mickey is printed after the previous one is supposed to die, the legal existence of these multiples — Mickey 17 and Mickey 18 — is threatened by the colony’s Trump-analogue and demagogue Kenneth Marshall (Mark Ruffalo) and his wife Ylfa (Toni Collette). 

“Mickey 17” appears primed to weave its futuristic premise with clever commentary on the present. Ultimately, it fails as a nuanced and profound critique of the contemporary political climate because its themes are bogged down by an unfocused narrative and a hollow message.

While Ruffalo’s on-screen presence and eccentric impressions might elicit some chuckles in the audience, the idea itself is painfully trite. In the saturated market of Trump-satires, “Mickey 17” is just going through the motions, neglecting to establish Marshall as a threatening villain or as a politically relevant spoof: Marshall distorts the truth, rocks increasingly strange haircuts, and even exhibits a speech cadence evoking Alec Baldwin on SNL. As the film fixates on surface-level imagery — red hats and incoherent inflections — its bumbling dictator wannabe is portrayed more for laughs than as a salient antagonist. 

This depiction leaves the themes in “Mickey 17” shallow and fragmented. The film’s attempts to navigate concepts such as the very real, quasi-religious aspect of Marshall’s cult of personality are held back by a clichéd and cartoonishly evil-dictator archetype. 

Any narrative payoff is derailed by this. An expletive-laced tirade against Marshall, played as an epic verbal takedown, falls flat because we, as an audience, do not connect with the despot on a visceral level. Scenes that are meant to harrowingly evoke the assassination attempt on President Trump at a political rally last year come off like empty Easter eggs in a comic-book movie.  

Where “Parasite” was culturally relevant and astutely gritty with its humor, “Mickey 17” is less airtight and lacks wit and charm in its comedy. It’s more obsessed with pomp and the low-hanging slapstick joke. 

It also suffers from issues that plague many a sci-fi flick: drawn-out exposition and poor pacing. The structure of the film relies heavily upon an extended flashback and voiceover by Mickey in an accent that gets to be more grating than charming by the end of the film. This throws the narrative flow in flux and undermines character development and dynamics.

This framing device also renders Pattinson’s Mickey 17 as the only multidimensional character in a film with a stacked supporting cast. Award-winning performers like Steven Yeun and Anamaria Vartolomei play one-note characters who fade into the background, unbefitting their considerable acting talent.  

Visually, “Mickey 17” doesn’t miss the mark. Phenomenal set design by Fiona Crombie and cinematography by Darius Khondji shape a cosmic dystopia. Unlike other recent blockbusters (ahem, Marvel), this stylistic coherence is not diminished by its extensive special effects or garish CGI mishaps. 

Though clear precision and attention were paid in crafting the look of the film, the aesthetic is still unusually faceless. When stepping into the world of Niflheim, little is done to differentiate its imagery from the sea of other space fantasies. Whether intentional or not, this merely contributes to the film’s lack of depth. 

“Parasite” serves as a perfect blend of comedy and commentary, but “Mickey 17” fails the tonal balancing act. It lacks the gut-wrenchingly real moments of the former (the flooding of the apartment or the out-of-touchness of the Parks) and opts for a sillier, disengaged political critique against the backdrop of an outlandish world. This more aloof narrative may be grander in scale, but the subpar script and absence of a poignant, honed political message make for a much less affecting and entertaining watch. 

“Mickey 17” feels oddly impersonal and desensitized in its commentary. While attempting to juggle a bevy of socially relevant themes, it makes no particularly potent statement about any of them. As a result, the writing and character work suffer. No scenes nor lines linger after the credits roll. “Mickey 17” is Bong Joon Ho’s least intimate film, and much to my dismay, it may be his worst.