What if the Best Advice you Could get Came From…Yourself? Exploring Betterment through The Double Life of véronique and Mickey 17
By Shannon Smith
In the world of cinema, the concept of “betterment” often coincides with violent themes: narratives of ambition, vindication, or survival. But what happens when two films—one a somber European mystery and the other a cerebral sci-fi epic—approach self-improvement from the perspective of listening to yourself? Krzysztof Kieślowski’s The Double Life of Véronique (1991) and Bong Joon-ho’s Mickey 17 (2024) might seem worlds apart, yet both explore how memory, intuition, and passion grow our identity.
The Double Life of Véronique by Krzysztof Kieślowski explores the idea of betterment not in a traditional self-improvement way, but through an almost spiritual lens—demonstrating how one person’s life might affect someone else’s, even unknowingly, and how decisions, instincts, and mysterious connections can lead to a more meaningful existence. The film follows two women—Weronika in Poland and Véronique in France—who are physically identical to each other and share a mysterious, emotional connection despite never meeting. As Weronika pursues a career in music, her sudden death sends tears through Véronique’s life, prompting her to put her singing aspirations on hold and search for deeper meaning within herself and those around her. The film explores themes of identity, intuition, and the metaphysical bonds between people. It’s as if Weronika’s life—and death—offers Véronique an invisible warning or lesson, pushing her toward better care and thus, a better version of herself.
Mickey 17, directed by Bong Joon-ho and based on the novel by Edward Ashton, follows Mickey Barnes, a disposable worker known as an “expendable” in a human colony on an alien ice planet. Every time he dies on a dangerous mission, a new clone—recorded with his memories—is regenerated to take his place. However, when Mickey 17 unexpectedly survives a mission and returns, he discovers that Mickey 18 has already been made, forcing the two versions to coexist, as their discovery would mean the total erasure of both. This creates tension not just with the colony’s leadership, but also within Mickey himself, as he struggles with identity, purpose, and survival in a society that has lost the value of human life.
In Mickey 17, Bong Joon-ho explores betterment through the coexistence of two cloned versions of the same man—Mickey 17 and Mickey 18—who embody differing reactions to trauma and identity. While Mickey 17 is guilt-ridden and unassertive, believing his suffering is deserved retribution for his mother’s death, Mickey 18 is confident, vengeful, and unburdened by that guilt. Their contrasting personalities reveal how memory and self-perception define and shape one’s growth, whether it leads to healing or destruction. Ultimately, it is through their reluctant cooperation—and Mickey 18’s sacrifice—that they negotiate peace between humans and the planet’s native species, suggesting that true betterment arises not from dominance or erasure, but from reconciliation and mutual understanding.
Both films, in their own ways, explore identity as fluid and growth as nonlinear. Véronique doesn’t consciously learn from Weronika, yet her life changes—she leaves behind a potentially harmful singing career and instead chooses the safer path of teaching. Conversely, Mickey retains knowledge from his past versions, but his journey toward becoming “better” involves both resisting and learning from himself. This duality allows him to break free from his oppressive environment. By confronting their internal struggles, both characters are ultimately able to face their external challenges and pursue more fulfilling lives. Moreover, the directors use the concept of doubling in different ways. Kieślowski keeps Weronika and Véronique separate. Although they sense each other’s presence, Véronique only begins to change her life after Weronika’s death. In contrast, Bong Joon-ho has both Mickeys coexist. These differences are reflected in each character’s development. Véronique seems to make changes almost immediately and all at once. For Mickey 17, however, it’s a more gradual process, with each change dependent upon what Mickey 18 does.
Furthermore, The Double Life of Véronique is more somber and introspective. Its slower pacing and minimal dialogue create a meditative, austere mood. Mickey 17, on the other hand, is a sci-fi comedy blockbuster, marked by absurd and graphic situations, fast pacing, and an energetic, more comedic tone. These stylistic differences highlight how each director approaches the theme of identity: one through quiet emotional resonance, the other through sharp satire.
Films often provide a look into the “what-if?” Through the silver screen, audiences are able to imagine what their lives could be like as another. Oftentimes, such dreaming ends when the credits roll and we return to our everyday lives. Yet, The Double Life of Véronique and Mickey 17 ask us to reflect and dive deeper, providing us with haunting questions about ourselves: can we grow from the lives we never fully lived? Whether through metaphysical connection or cloned continuity, both directors seem to argue yes, we can. Yet, that path to living such an idealized life starts not by fantasizing, but by living in the here and now. And, although this process begins with the introspection of “looking within yourself,” it is only through taking action that changes truly become reality.
