Die my love It closes with a version of Love will tear us apart Joy Division's song, sung by Lynne Ramsay herself. Quite a statement of intent from a director who, since her debut with Ratcatcher (1999) has stood out with such forceful and unconventional titles in his female portraits as Morvern was silent (2002) and We need to talk about Kevin (2011). This adaptation of Ariana Harwicz's novel of the same name is defined as a portrait of a mother with postpartum depression. To Ramsay's credit, the film doesn't aim for a prosaic description of this scenario and its circumstances, but rather unfolds as a cubist and emotional approach to a woman under the influence, Grace (Jennifer Lawrence), who experiences an overwhelming situation, presented in a way that borders on horror. All this unfolds while her love story with her partner, Jackson (Robert Pattinson), implodes.

One need only glance at this newspaper to realize that we do not live in subtle times. Right and left we find demagogues proclaiming absolute truths and divisions between good and evil that do not understand nuances. It is only fair, then, that Mickey 17 respond to this moral defeat by identifying the damage in a messianic intergalactic tycoon that Mark Ruffalo embodies with an inflamed vehemence and a stupid vileness that points unambiguously and without reservation Donald Trump. This condemns Ruffalo to a role closer to that of an imitator than to the full development of a character, but Bong Joon-ho has never had problems when it comes to moving in the strident farce, perhaps because of his ability to overlap all kinds of situations and bombard the screen with ideas guaranteeing a permanent flow of energy.

One only has to look at this newspaper to realize that we do not live in subtle times. Right and left we find demagogues proclaiming absolute truths and divisions between good and evil that do not understand nuances. It is only fair, then, that Mickey 17 respond to this moral defeat by identifying the damage in a messianic intergalactic tycoon that Mark Ruffalo embodies with an inflamed vehemence and a stupid vileness that points unambiguously and without reservation Donald Trump. This condemns Ruffalo to a role closer to that of an imitator than to the full development of a character, but Bong Joon-ho has never had problems when it comes to moving in the strident farce, perhaps because of his ability to overlap all kinds of situations and bombard the screen with ideas guaranteeing a permanent flow of energy.

It seems like an eternity ago the celebrated victory of thriller Korean Parasites at the 2020 Oscars, perhaps because only a few days later the pandemic broke out and everything that preceded it belongs to another world. However, five years later everything is still the same as in those unforgettable Oscars: Bong Joon-ho's smile, his presence alongside actress Sharon Choi and a surprising, politically incisive and memorably staged film. In the case of Mickey 17, presented this Saturday at the Berlinale, is of an interstellar scale: the return of the Korean director is a science fiction comedy set in a spaceship that travels to space to colonize a distant planet, and the protagonist is a Robert Pattinson given over to comedy with a display of grimaces and physical humor reminiscent of both Buster Keaton and Jim Carrey.