How Mickey, his 17 versions and Mark Rufallo made me laugh out loud

Went into Mickey 17 with zero expectations—honestly, just wanted to see what Pattinson would do as an expendable clone saving humanity rather than Edward who keeps getting killed for science. And somehow, two hours flew by in what felt like a second, even though I’m not the biggest fan of sci-fi worlds. Acidly funny sci-fi satire (c).
A strange, hypnotic mix of dystopia, sharp humor, and absurdity, where Pattinson (deeply self-ironic, as always) is simultaneously a victim, a test subject, and a man who just won’t stay dead. Plus, he has a girlfriend who doesn’t leave him—even when a more masculine, upgraded version of himself appears.

It’s the kind of movie where you can’t predict what’ll happen next. One moment, they’re sending Mickey to die again, the next—Mickey 17 meets Mickey 18, and they casually suggest a threesome with himself. And then there are the little details that make it even funnier—like the moment before another round of experiments, when they pop Mickey’s pimple. Aesthetics first.

Special mention to Mark Ruffalo, who plays the most hyperbolic dictator imaginable, something between Trump, Hitler, and a corporate CEO convinced the world revolves around him.

Can’t say the film left me with existential dilemmas, but it’s exactly the kind of movie that makes two hours disappear and helps you forget about everything else for a while.

This week’s plan? Finally watching Parasite (yes, I know, I still haven’t seen it).And as Trump recently said in a conversation you-know-with-whom—great television.