“A vivid examination of identity, queerness and self-acceptance, and the role memory plays in the process of defining ourselves and the world around us.”

Before we know exactly what we are about to see, the first words we hear in Mickey are “we wish you a pleasant journey”. At first, it seems like a throwaway phrase, background noise without much meaning. However, it becomes clear that director Dano García is very much aware of how important every detail is when it comes to establishing the tone of a film, and this is not an exception. In her most recent directorial outing, García presents a portrait of her friend Miss Mickey, a trans woman navigating life in working-class Mexico, where she was born and raised. Our first image of Mickey shows her painting herself green, with images soon being projected onto her as she becomes a living green screen on which her deepest existential quandaries and desires can be shown. Her life has been a journey, one that is both physical and emotional, as she has undergone the challenge of growing into her identity and developing a kind of self-recognition that has played a vital role in the construction of the version she now presents to the world. Designed as a hybrid documentary, Mickey is an unorthodox work, a collaboration between two fascinating individuals as they explore the trials and tribulations of existing in a world where identity has never been more confusing. It is an immediately striking work, one that makes use of various metaphors for the act of constructing and performing identity, and how those who exist outside the gender binary attain a sense of self, whether it is through “painting” themselves simply to be seen, or through the constant search for freedom in whatever form it can be found.

Mickey is an extraordinarily innovative film, and its intention to be as different as possible is not merely a decorative quirk but rather its main motivation, and entirely central to the plot. This is not just telling Mickey’s story, but reflecting on the act of exploring identity, using her journey as one of many similar examinations of someone undergoing various psychological and physical changes in an effort to realise their true selves. The director works with Miss Mickey to create a film that employs a multimodal structure, which immediately piques our curiosity. It is a deft blend of narrative essay, in which we are given insightful reflections into the subject’s journey; ethnographic study (particularly in how it situates Mickey within a very specific cultural and geographic milieu, which is vital to understanding certain nuances); observational documentary in which her lived reality is shown; all tied together with some experimental elements that play into the natural fragmentation and playfulness that come with a more abstract work. Much of the film is told using digital tools, making use of archival recordings (many by Mickey herself), as well as technology such as social media videos, CGI, video game footage and green-screen software. These formats all seem familiar and perhaps even somewhat trivial (very few would argue that TikTok filters immediately signify artistic merit), but they become the tools with which Mickey authors her own story, building her identity in a digital space that seems secondary to reality, but serves as the primary site for her efforts toward self-expression, navigating multiple versions of the self simultaneously.

Despite its innovative nature, Mickey is not a film striving to redefine the medium, but instead shows how it can be used to creatively examine the inner workings of the mind of someone exploring their own identity. The film takes the form of a deeply reflective video diary, employing a free-form, stream-of-consciousness approach that may not have a strict structure but still has a natural progression. The foundation of the film is memory, which García posits is not meant to be stable but rather fluid, something that can be reconfigured and reinterpreted without losing its authenticity. We live in a digital era (reflected in the film’s continuous use of different media to tell its story), and it examines how this can be used to address our personal histories. The central thesis of Mickey is that the past is unavoidable and cannot be entirely erased. Memories tend to linger both emotionally and physically, shaping how we see ourselves and how the world sees us. This can be a challenge for those who carry trauma, such as the harsh realities that come with being different in an environment where anything that goes against the status quo is immediately demonised. However, rather than focusing on the suffering, García and Mickey decide to make use of their inherent sense of humour, creating a playful and offbeat documentary that gives them the chance to address the past without trivialising the trauma. This allows Mickey to reclaim control over her trauma, reshaping her pain into something positive, turning the abstract into the tangible and showing her efforts to explore her identity.

Mickey is a film that resists easy interpretation, while also not being so dense or unconventional that it loses the viewer’s focus or causes us to drift away. This is a film about processing one’s identity through internal exploration and outward expression, a deeply personal and intimate examination of one person’s journey that feels like we are being invited to get a glimpse into their private existential archives. It’s far from a traditional film, but it never feels opaque – we may not understand every decision made in telling this story, but we can easily acknowledge that the value lies in the intention and emotional resonance, which interweaves beautifully with the unconventional narrative texture of the story. Much like the subject herself, the film openly resists categorisation and embraces fluidity, constantly shifting and expanding in its depiction of a young woman negotiating her identity while searching for a sense of belonging and the pursuit of self-definition by any means necessary. This film doesn’t simplify Mickey’s journey, nor does it intend to underestimate her personal struggles, rather choosing to offer a series of poignant observations and reflections that examine the challenges of navigating a society that may be growing more receptive to different identities, but where they still have a long way to go before true acceptance is achieved. The realities of the trans experience are made more visible in Mickey, a film that uses playful techniques as an entry point into a vivid examination of identity, queerness and self-acceptance, and the role memory plays in the process of defining ourselves and the world around us.