Mickey 17: Overt Messaging on Excess

Mickey 17 presents a cautionary tale about what happens when society values excess over life—not just human life, but also animals, plants, and ecosystems. When we disregard these essential elements, we’re left with the "TV dinner equivalent" of existence—artificial, unsatisfying, and hollow. While this premise is compelling, the film’s execution lacks nuance, relying on heavy-handed metaphors that ultimately diminish its impact.

Overt Messaging vs. Subtle Storytelling

Unlike Parasite, which masterfully blends social commentary with intricate storytelling, Mickey 17 opts for blunt, in-your-face symbolism. The film leans into overt Trumpian parallels—red MAGA hats, a blustering TV host, dictatorship-style rhetoric, and general “assholery.” It reminded me of Don’t Look Up, and not in a good way. While I’m not opposed to obvious metaphors (I love Aliens—yes, we get it, the alien is a penis), I do appreciate when filmmakers trust their audience’s intelligence. A great movie doesn’t need to spoon-feed its themes or moral lessons.

Take Casino Royale, for example. It remains one of my all-time favorites, even though I struggle to fully grasp the intricacies of its plot. Yet that doesn’t lessen my enjoyment. I admire films that allow space for interpretation, rather than explicitly labeling the villains and heroes. Mickey 17, like Don’t Look Up, makes its point so forcefully that it loses nuance. A well-placed “show, don’t tell” note in the editing process would have been welcome.

The Excess of Luxury and Survival

Throughout the movie, I questioned whether certain elements were necessary to drive the point home. Take Toni Collette’s character’s obsession with sauce—was it essential? Presumably, this fixation was meant to highlight the absurdity of valuing indulgences over survival. This theme is central to Bong Joon-ho’s work, particularly in Parasite and Okja, where the wealthy exist in comfortable bubbles while the rest of the world suffers.

What is a luxury, and where do we draw the line? If survival is possible without consuming animals, is meat itself an indulgence? Watching Okja was a turning point for me—I stopped eating meat cold turkey because of how viscerally disturbing it was.

This theme appears in Ottessa Moshfegh’s Lapvona, a book I read recently, where the townspeople believe eating meat is a sin because they think God has provided other sustenance, so why take a life unnecessarily? However, the ruling class continues to indulge in excess, even during a drought where the townspeople face starvation and a moral crisis—whether to eat meat and survive or uphold their beliefs. They cling to luxury because it’s all they’ve ever known, even when it’s no longer possible or necessary.

Real-World Parallels and the Film’s Execution

This idea extends beyond fiction. Consider the pandemic: while ordinary people faced layoffs and toilet paper shortages, the wealthy retreated to secluded luxury bunkers or sprawling estates, insulating themselves from the crisis. Mickey 17 mirrors this through the ruling elite aboard the ship, Kenneth Marsal and Ylfa, whose lavish home—decorated in pink, complete with servants, tablecloths, framed pictures, and, of course… sauce—emphasizes their detachment from reality.

And yet, did we really need to see Collette’s character pulling the creature’s tail to extract sauce? The film hammers its point so aggressively that it borders on parody: “I would rather have a condiment than preserve a living being.” A more subtle approach could have made her character more complex—perhaps showing why she clings to this norm, much like Lapvona’s townspeople who are forced to abandon their beliefs in times of crisis. Instead, Mickey 17 reduces her to a caricature, missing an opportunity for deeper exploration.

In Mickey 17, just as in reality, the privileged few preserve their comforts at the expense of everyone else—whether it’s luxury bunkers, pandemic isolation, or, apparently, an unshakable devotion to sauce. If this was the film’s primary focus, I think I would have enjoyed it more. Bong Joon-ho has previously balanced social commentary with rich character work and subtle visual storytelling, but here, the themes feel forced rather than organically embedded in the narrative making this movie disapointing for me coming off his last Oscar winning sensation.