The Killer

A new production from David Fincher is an event. Seven, The Social Network, and Gone Girl are among his many triumphs. He’s one of the most accomplished directors working today. So, I must admit that my expectations for The Killer were quite high.

Michael Fassbender portrays a discreet professional assassin. The man is in every frame of the picture, but we never even learn his real name. He utilizes various aliases drawn from sitcom characters (Oscar Madison, Howard Cunningham, Robert Hartley, et al.) Yet he is a cold-blooded killer who ascribes to a practice of “no empathy” as he recounts his thoughts and what his job entails. His unwavering drone is a constant throughout the film. He pontificates for 20 minutes before taking his first shot. The opening is designed to emphasize the monotony of his work. Andrew Kevin Walker’s screenplay is successful in accentuating the tedium. Whether that’s a good thing is debatable.

Things start to get interesting when a hit for which he is hired goes wrong. His handlers are not happy. He discovers his girlfriend, Magdala (Sophie Charlotte) has been tortured for information. He finds himself no longer the predator but the prey. To stay alive, he sets out to take care of his stalkers. The Killer is divided into six chapters, each covering a different target. The developments are indeed compelling. I was entertained by the technical prowess on display. However, the conclusion does not deliver the satisfaction I anticipated. It is oddly poetic, though, so I wasn’t disappointed, only underwhelmed.

This account is a slickly made portrayal of a hitman. It’s an efficient procedural, but not a whole lot more than that. David Fincher is collaborating with talented colleagues he has worked with before: the writer of Seven (Andrew Kevin Walker), the cinematographer of Mank (Erik Messerschmidt), and composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. The Killer is a proficient thriller, but I expected more. It’s a good movie, just not a a great one.

11-24-23