Director David Fincher (Fight Club) is back with a new movie for the first time since his 2020 film Mank, the first project he made as part of an exclusive four-year deal with Netflix. But unlike the prestige trappings and sentimentality that came with Mank, his new film The Killer sees Fincher returning to the familiar underworld of the serial killer (see title) like his previous films Zodiac, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Se7en. Andrew Kevin Walker, who wrote the screenplay for Se7en, adapted The Killer from the 1998 French graphic novel of the same name, and cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt (Devotion) also returns to collaborate with Fincher after winning the Oscar for his camerawork in Mank.
Starring the glass-eyed Michael Fassbender (X-Men: First Class) as the titular hitman—giving shades of his performance as David in the Alien films—The Killer is a return to form for David Fincher, whose well-documented perfectionism via multiple takes and clinical filmmaking style make this movie feel almost autobiographical at points—the camera being his preferred weapon of choice. Filled with enough graphic violence to satisfy the genre aficionados and with enough subtext to create think pieces about the scripts’ ideas about “hustle culture” and the gig economy, The Killer is a thriller that is both entertaining and thought-provoking.
What separates The Killer from other works of the genre is that it’s told from the killer’s point of view, with most of the dialogue being voiceover as our protagonist relays his strict set of rules: “Forbid empathy. Empathy is weakness. Weakness is vulnerability.” These are just some of the mantras the Terminator-like Fassbender will echo throughout the film (despite him contradicting his own advice on more than one occasion). So when a hit goes wrong in the first act, one senses that the professional commitment of the the protagonist is more of a facade—like Tyler Durden scoffing at an advertisement in Fight Club, even though Brad Pitt’s physique in that movie is hulking in comparison to the underwear model he’s mocking. Also similar to Fight Club is the fact that the “The Killer” is an unreliable narrator who has no name, aside from one person referring to him as the “Dominican Republican” mid-fight.
While I was initially disappointed that Netflix once again limited the theatrical release of this movie, meaning I would have to drive to another state to see it on the big screen, the streaming release meant I could immediately watch it more than once—something that is almost always a rewarding experience when it comes to David Fincher’s films. Still, hearing Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ rumbling electronic score which pulsates throughout the film in a movie theater would have been far superior to my home setup, even with surround sound; because there is so little dialogue, the music acts as the heartbeat of the film cuing us into the killer’s inner turmoil.
The only other music we hear is background music playing through stereos or the killer queuing up his iPod to play The Smiths’ greatest hits in moments of deep focus. The best example of this is the first 20 minutes of the film when we see him staking out his prey with calculated discipline. In other words: lots of watching and waiting. “It’s amazing how physically exhausting it can be to do nothing” the killer notes as he sits in a chair next to a space heater in front of an open window. It’s the first glimpse we see of Fassbender’s physicality, which he reveals through stretching and yoga poses as he waits for his target to enter his sights.
The elaborate Rear Window homage was accomplished by assembling digital plates together to look like one wide shot of the side of the building he’s looking at. It’s yet another example of Fincher and his team’s prowess in creating invisible digital effects to create convincing locales, in this case a Parisian hotel. He camps at an abandoned WeWork office building across from his target’s hotel, stops at a McDonalds disguised as a German tourist (later he orders materials from Amazon), and when the time comes the protagonist plays “How Soon is Now?” while he waits for his heart rate to reach just the right BPM before firing the kill shot. Morrisey’s voice singing “I am human so I need to be loved” feels like the protagonist trying to convince himself of what love might feel like; it’s also a juicy pop song that is in contrast to the violent actions of the character. It’s the most effective sequence in the movie and sets in motion the chain of events that follow.
The cast includes Tilda Swinton as The Expert, playing a brief role similar to that of her lover-in-the-night part in The Curious Case of Benjamin. Most of the characterization is done through action, but she gets a lot of dialogue to chew on as she interacts with the protagonist over a whiskey flight. Swinton’s mysterious aura that she brings to every role is ever present, but with a bitter realization that this might be the last drink she ever has. Charles Parnell (Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One) plays a lawyer who boldly confronts the protagonist while his frightened secretary Dolores (Kerry O’Malley) fears for her life. There is also an extended fight sequence in the second act with someone fittingly credited as The Brute (Sala Baker), and Arliss Howard (Mank) plays a wealthy businessman named Claybourne who gets caught up in the protagonist’s unstoppable mission of revenge.
What separates this from any other movie where a man is out for vengeance—basically any Liam Neeson movie—is the intricate filmmaking which brings an authenticity to the various locations the protagonist visits by having them almost exclusively lit by the fluorescent lights that dimly illuminate these spaces. Each chapter is divided by the name of their locations and paced with such patience that when an act of violence does come it is shocking and brutal and reminds you that this is a guy who murders people for a living (the pay is very good from what he says). There is a wry sense of humor that comes from the edgelord commentary that Fassbender delivers mixed with the imperfect actions of his character, which he expresses through his facial expressions and narration. Or when he enters a new city: “Ah, New Orleans. A thousand restaurants, one menu.”
The only downside when you have a filmography as loaded as David Fincher is that every film is going to be scrutinized and compared to his masterpieces (Zodiac, The Social Network) and The Killer admittedly doesn’t stack up against them. Having said that, it is a great genre picture like his single-location exercise Panic Room (still waiting on the Blu-ray release) with more happening beneath the surface than what meets the eye. There is an inherent tension in watching a criminal just go about his life that many films have used to their advantage and so it’s no surprise that Fincher cites Le Samourai as one of his biggest influences when making The Killer—the main difference being that there’s no narration from Alain Delon’s criminal: He speaks through his actions. As someone who only likes narration when used sparingly, I did find the main character in The Killer to be a little talky, especially because the sections of the film where he doesn’t give us information are compelling on their own without having to tell us why; even though the killer’s motivation is briefly shown, it still works. The third act is also a little anti-climactic for the same reason of conversation taking over, whereas everything before was accomplished by watching the professional hitman go about his business.
Besides those qualms, The Killer is a welcome comeback for David Fincher, and Michael Fassbender, who has spent the last few years behind the wheel of a car instead of in front of a camera. Whenever David Fincher is directing a movie about a serial killer, it’s a safe bet that it will be worthwhile, and The Killer is no different. It is an entertaining B-movie with talent that elevates it and makes it stand out from the bottom-of-the-barrel direct-to-DVD movies that usually star out-of-shape 80s action stars (I’m looking at you Steven Seagal). It’s also a taut examination of someone without basic human emotions navigating through the world unnoticed while lashing out against people who have provoked his inner peace. Whether you’re an Uber driver or a hitman, we’re all just trying to survive late-stage capitalism in our own way; the protagonist listens to The Smiths, and we can by watching David Fincher’s (an expert marksman in his own right) latest on Netflix. It’s all the same.
Final Rating:
‘The Killer’ is now available to stream on Netflix.
Rated R.
(Photos: Netflix)
