A master class in hitmanship given by a deluded teacher, The Killer stars Michael Fassbender as a monotone assassin for hire who shares his tips of the trade in detailed voiceover, as well as a bit of moral philosophy. (“No one who can afford me needs to waste time winning me to some cause,” he shares. “I serve no god or country. I fly no flag.”) In the film’s opening third, we watch in painstaking detail as he stalks a target, waiting for the right moment to pounce. When things go awry (one could argue he distracts himself with his narration), the killer’s carefully cultivated world begins to crumble—yet he doesn’t seem to realize it, considering he continues to confidently yammer away. If this all registers as one dark joke, that’s likely because the director here is David Fincher, reteaming with Seven screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker to adapt a French graphic-novel series. The Killer is a gorgeously sterile, de-romanticized riff on the likes of Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Samourai (which notably features a near-silent assassin) and countless other hit-man movies, peppered with sideswipes at capitalism. (McDonald’s and Amazon are crucial tools in the killer’s arsenal.) Unnecessary shots fired at The Smiths, however, considering the film also suggests that a narcissistic sociopath like this would listen exclusively to their music.
(11/16/2023)
