Following last month's outing at International Film Festival Rotterdam—where it screened as one of the titles in Cinema Regained, an IFFR strand that offers new perspectives on film history—Ryan A. White and A.P. Pickle's documentary Mickey & Richard continues its journey on the festival circuit with two screenings at this year's BFI Flare, where it plays on Thursday and Friday as part of the festival's Bodies strand. Mickey & Richard feels like a continuation of something that began with the same production company's esoteric 2021 film Raw! Uncut! Video!, an IFFR 2025 selection co-directed by White and Alex Clausen.
In Mickey & Richard, White and Pickle turn their attention to Richard Bernstein, who, under the stage name Mickey Squires, became a fixture of the 1980s adult film scene. Now in his seventies and living a quiet life in the California sun, Bernstein comes across as a thoughtful, affable figure as he reflects on both his heyday in the industry and his wider life. With seemingly unfettered access to the many films Bernstein starred in, the directors pepper their documentary with countless (and often explicit) clips of Mickey Squires in action, yet it’s always Bernstein’s sincere voiceover that commands the viewer’s attention.
This dissonance makes it hard to reconcile the sensitive older man with the unabashed icon seen in the excerpts. It’s clear that Bernstein has always yearned for human connection—a trait that seemingly drew him to his chosen career—but has long recognised that physical intimacy doesn’t necessarily equate to emotional closeness. It is no secret that the adult film industry has produced many casualties throughout its oft-murky history, and while Richard Bernstein—who generally looks back on his career with affection—has emerged with far fewer scars than most, there’s still a wistfulness to the way he reflects on his eventful past.
Given how erudite and engaging the Bernstein of today is, one criticism that might be levelled at White and Pickle’s illuminating film is that it focuses more on the professional than the personal—or rather, that it contains too much Mickey and not enough Richard. Yet seeing how one informs the other is key to understanding both the film and its subject(s). While the directors may at times rely a bit too heavily on the wealth of archival material at their disposal, this imbalance is offset by the sheer vitality of Richard’s personality, and the film’s heartfelt coda—centred on his recent major health issues—proves rather moving.
