David Fincher, director of modern classics like Seven, Fight Club, and Zodiac, returns to the big screen after a six year hiatus with The Killer. After 2020’s majestic Hollywood love letter Mank, Fincher re-teams with screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker, who penned the twisted serial killer thriller Seven back in 1995, for this slick adaptation of a French graphic novel. We find the duo venturing into new territory with The Killer, a taut yet brooding character study that follows a meticulous assassin as his quest for vengeance unravels his cold facade. This is Fincher’s twelfth feature, though it feels more like a diverting genre exercise than a major work from one of Hollywood’s modern auteurs.
Michael Fassbender stars as the unnamed assassin, delivering an impressively muted performance that gradually exposes flickers of humanity behind his steely veneer. Through lengthy voiceovers, we’re privy to his philosophical mantras and detached musings about his trade. Yet when a routine hit goes awry, endangering those close to him, his repressed rage boils to the surface. What follows is a globetrotting revenge thriller as he methodically tracks down those responsible.
With its propulsive action and spartan aesthetics, The Killer harkens back to Fincher’s early work while feeling distinctly European in sensibility. Though it may lack the heady ambition of Zodiac or the corrosive wit of Gone Girl, Fincher brings his customarily slick direction and surgically precise editing to the film’s carnage and intrigue. The question is whether this tightly crafted, if familiar, tale of vengeance offers anything new for viewers besides affirming that Fincher remains a master of suspense. In this article, we’ll review the film’s execution and determine if The Killer is a hollow exercise in style or a truly killing thriller worthy of the director’s reputation.
Methodical Killer Unravels in Wake of Fateful Mistake
The Killer opens by plunging us into the regimented world of a seasoned assassin, portrayed with coiled intensity by Michael Fassbender. Through extended internal monologues, we learn this unnamed killer adheres to a strict code – “anticipate, don’t improvise” and “stick to the plan” are recurring mantras. His spartan Parisian outpost, nestled discreetly amid bustling offices, reflects the barren orderliness of his existence. For days, he watches and waits for the perfect moment to eliminate his target across the street.
His philosophizing voiceovers reveal glimmers of humanity behind the killer’s mechanical façade. Brief flashes of wry humor, like disguising himself as a German tourist since “no one wants to talk to a German tourist,” suggest a psyche seeking stimulation in the monotonous gaps between jobs. He finds meaning by perfecting his lethal craft, each meticulous step carefully planned.
Of course, even the best laid plans unravel. When the shot finally comes, a tragic split-second mistake leads to the wrong victim killed. Jolted out of his controlled routine, the killer flees to his Caribbean hideaway only to find his home ransacked and girlfriend assaulted. With his safe haven violated, emotion overrides logic as the unraveling begins.
What follows is a globe-spanning revenge thriller, as the unraveling killer methodically hunts down those responsible for the attack. First he takes down the handler in New Orleans who arranged the botched Paris job. Then the actual hitmen who did the brutal deed. Finally, in a tense standoff, he confronts the original client who initiated this violent chain of events.
Each target presents an intricate puzzle to solve, allowing Fassbender to showcase the killer’s lethal problem-solving skills. We see how he adapts and improvises despite his rigid code – donning disguises, leveraging surveillance, turning the tables on his own profession’s tactics. A riveting restaurant scene between Fassbender and Tilda Swinton, playing a rival hitwoman, becomes a highlight as they subtly spar over morality.
Yet while the killer’s skills are on display, it’s the cracks in his façade that intrigue. Flashes of pent-up rage emerge as he sheds blood, getaway vehicles betray his desperation. By upending the comforting rituals that defined him, his vengeful journey brings him face to face with the man beneath the methodical machine.
In The Killer, Fincher skillfully deconstructs theroutine of a man who thought he had total control. By unleashing chaotic forces from a single misstep, the film explores how even the most detached among us remain fundamentally tethered to human bonds andemotion.
The Facade of Control in a Chaotic World
“Stick to the plan. Anticipate, don’t improvise. Never get emotional.” Such mantras define the tightly regimented outlook of The Killer’s hitman protagonist. Through terse voiceovers and Fassbender’s contained performance, we see a man who finds purpose in adhering to self-discipline and preparation. Yet the film explores what happens when even the most detached among us lose control.
Fincher wrings suspense from upending his protagonist’s rituals and philosophies. Much as chaos descends on Edward Norton’s neatly ordered life in Fight Club, the killer’s world unravels following one slip-up. For all his training, emotion inevitably overrides logic when suffering is inflicted on his loved ones. Method transforms into impulsive vengeance.
This breakdown highlights the facade of control in a chaotic world. Chance and fate collide with the killer’s grand designs. Fincher films these pivotal moments, like the botched Paris assassination, with almost tragic sensibility – tiny accidents that set off outsized chain reactions.
The irony is that as the killer sheds blood without remorse, we glimpse the humanity beneath his cool facade. His connection to his assaulted girlfriend exposes vulnerable underpinnings. Fassbender deftly conveys the complexity churning behind the character’s mask of indifference.
Stylistically, Fincher’s work has always traded in dread and suspense. From Seven’s suffocating darkness to Zodiac’s unresolved angst, his films lock us into his protagonist’s fixations. With its slick action and urbane locales, The Killer channels European moodiness reminiscent of Jean-Pierre Melville’s crime films. Violent interludes punctuate procedural sequences focused on the killer solving problems through surveillance and subterfuge.
Yet unlike the operatic carnage of John Woo, the action here is quick and messy – reflections of a world spinning out of control. The killer’s unraveling mental state haunts each scene, most evident during a riveting physical and philosophical clash with a rival assassin played by Tilda Swinton. Their interplay speaks to the loneliness endemic to their profession.
The Killer finds Fincher in his element, crafting an immersive descent into one man’s breakdown and violent catharsis. By challenging the illusions of order and perfection, Fincher once again spins an engrossing thriller from the unpredictability of human nature.
Fassbender’s Subtlety Anchors an Emotionally Complex Assassin
In the pivotal role of the nameless assassin, Michael Fassbender has the difficult task of bringing depth to a character defined by detachment and solitude. Yet through subtle glances and vocal inflections, he expertly conveys the killer’s complex interior life simmering beneath the calm surface.
Fassbender’s restrained physicality aligns with the character’s tightly-wound philosophy – economical movements, facial expressions flickering for mere seconds. But occasional cracks emerge, like flashes of pent-up rage, that hint at the emotional currents running silently deep. We see the toll inflicting violence takes on his psyche.
Nowhere is this clearer than in his scenes with Tilda Swinton. Her extended cameo as a rival assassin, complete with dramatic blonde haircut, provides the film’s most riveting face-off. The two cautiously circle each other, verbally sparring over shades of morality. In their interplay, Fassbender foregrounds the killer’s profound loneliness and growing wariness about his chosen path.
Swinton herself savors the chance to explore ethical questions often glossed over in on-screen violence. Her character’s principled, almost professorial arguments over their profession’s ethics contrasts sharply with the killer’s fragmentation. For one brief scene, her sophistication highlights his compromised humanity.
Fassbender’s achievement is revealing the subtle ways trauma reshapes even the most detached among us. In flashing micro-expressions, he exposes the killer’s repressed pain and yearning for connection. Through performance alone, he takes an archetypal hitman role and uncovers the wounded soul inside.
An unlikely supporting turn comes from acclaimed British journalist Fiona Bruce. Known for her coverage of high-profile criminal cases, Bruce’s natural screen presence during a short but memorable scene provides an intriguing counterpoint to Fassbender’s opacity.
By ceding the spotlight to both co-stars and letting small emotional cracks speak volumes, Fassbender anchors The Killer with a haunting, understated performance.
Precise Aesthetics Reflect a Killer’s Fracturing Psyche
Having honed his skills across decades of Hollywood thrillers, Fincher brings customary technical mastery to The Killer’s visual craft. The film’s calculated aesthetics mirror the regimented existence of its protagonist, though signs of impending chaos loom at the edges.
Early sequences in particular highlight Fincher’s sparse, efficient style. The killer’s Parisian outpost is almost devoid of decoration, with clinical white walls and furnishings. Much of the initial assassination attempt occurs wordlessly, chronicling the event in methodical detail through crisp editing. The killer’s routines take on procedural precision – surveillance, preparations, the calm before the storm.
When violence erupts, Fincher’s camerawork captures its jarring physicality without sensationalism. Quick cuts and handheld shots immerse us in disorienting brutality, evoking the killer’s increasing loss of control. Sound design is equally visceral, from the sudden silences preceding deaths to the crunching of bone.
Creative cinematography shines during a stand-out fight scene set under glaring Florida neon. The saturated colors and twisting camera movements heighten the pulpy, retro allure into something almost surreal as bones splinter and blood flows. It’s violence as garish spectacle.
As the killer journeys across Europe and America, the shifting urban backdrops echo his fracturing psyche – alluring in surface beauty but concealing darker motives. Overhead aerial shots of locations like Paris and New York provide distance, evoking the killer’s emotional remove.
Fincher often opts for realism over showy style, grounded in physical immediacy. As when the killer examines passed bodies with forensic detachment, clinically probing their ruined features. Details like disguises sourced from Amazon deliveries further accentuate his mundane methods.
The soundtrack’s repetitive use of The Smiths provides both irony and insight. Light guitar melodies underscore the protagonist’s attempts to cling to normalcy, but cannot drown out the toll of his actions on increasingly frayed nerves.
By tightly controlling aesthetic elements, Fincher crafts a visual landscape that mirrors the killer’s dissolving grip on his reality. Precise style belies the chaos waiting to burst through a fragile facade.
A Riveting if Familiar Tale of Control and Chaos
With The Killer, David Fincher returns to the slick, brooding aesthetics that built his reputation. After the retro refuge of Mank, this taut assassination thriller feels like a bracing re-immersion into Fincher’s stylish world of moral decay and violence.
At its heart, The Killer is a character study of a meticulous hitman undone by chaos, brought to life through Michael Fassbender’s nuanced performance. Few actors can compellingly convey such emotional complexity using only subtle gestures and expressions. Backed by Fincher’s visceral direction, he makes the nameless killer both chilling and sympathetic.
The film builds tension less through narrative surprises than a pervasive sense of impending disorder encroaching on the protagonist’s ordered realm. We know the cracks in his facade will split, we’re simply enthralled witnessing how Fincher artfully engineers the unraveling.
While certain supporting turns, especially Tilda Swinton’s refined assassin, provide highlights, Fassbender remains the true anchor. Even if the existential assassin is familiar, the actor locates the wounded humanity inside this archetype.
For all its polish, The Killer lacks the ambition that defined Zodiac and Fight Club. It feels like the work of a master content to revisit past triumphs without reinventing them. But there is pleasure in seeing a filmmaker so commanding of his craft and creative collaborators, even if the themes are familiar.
When viewed as another finely tuned entry in Fincher’s expansive body of work, The Killer delivers what fans crave – technical bravado, immersive style, and grim studies of fixation. It may not become an essential thriller, but provides ample evidence Fincher remains peerless at transforming the darkness within us into profoundly entertaining spectacles.
The Killer sees David Fincher returning to the tense aesthetics and brooding violence that built his reputation. While arguably more an exercise in style than a substantial exploration of the human condition, Fincher's visceral direction and Michael Fassbender's subtly affecting performance as a volatile assassin make for a propulsive, if familiar, thriller.
- Strong lead performance by Michael Fassbender as the emotionally complex assassin
- Tilda Swinton provides an impactful supporting turn
- David Fincher's signature slick and stylish direction
- Creative and visceral editing and cinematography
- Action sequences and fights are riveting and well-choreographed
- Explores intriguing themes about loss of control and emotional awakening
- Excellent sound design and soundtrack heighten suspense
- The assassin character lacks originality in some aspects
- Uneven pacing during slower first act
- Story is predictable and follows familiar genre conventions
- Lacks the ambition and innovation of Fincher's best work like Fight Club or Zodiac
- The Killer feels more like an exercise in style rather than a substantive work
- Repetitive use of The Smiths soundtrack grates after a while