Directed by:
David FincherScreenplay:
Andrew Kevin WalkerCinematography:
Erik MesserschmidtCast:
Michael Fassbender, Tilda Swinton, Charles Parnell, Arliss Howard, Kerry O'Malley, Sala Baker, Sophie Charlotte, Endre Hules, Monique Ganderton, Daran Norris (more)VOD (1)
Plots(1)
After a fateful near-miss an assassin battles his employers, and himself, on an international manhunt he insists isn’t personal. (Netflix)
Videos (2)
Reviews (10)
A reflective Fincher. Technically still on top of his game, directorially still as methodical and minimalist with attention to every detail. That the screenwriter chose a simpler plot without unnecessary twists or shocking points doesn't matter much. It doesn't have to be in every one of his films. In fact, Fassbender's assassin is such an interesting and well-portrayed character that it is he who is the center of the film, and around him revolves a kind of plot with changing locations and meeting interesting people. Worth mentioning is the fantastic action in Florida, which I wouldn't have expected from Fincher. A meditative, simmering crime drama where everything works very well, just not brilliantly.
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It's almost fascinating, mischievous fun. Watching an elite hitman who praises himself to the skies in the opening fifteen minutes, then makes a terrible mistake, but never stops doubting himself, even when it increasingly seems that the mistake was far from the last, and in fact not even the first. David Fincher has taken the liberty of making a wonderfully filmed two-hour ode to the ego, and I'm sure with each successive viewing there will be more and more little "a professional killer probably wouldn't do this in another movie" details that I didn't notice the first time around.
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No one is special. We are all mere aberrations, but otherwise we are all basically the same. Fincher's philosophizing assassin explains the importance of overcoming boredom and the benefits of diligence. I've never seen a more relaxed and serene opening. It's a balm to the soul and a throwback to the early days of Dexter. Fake smiles, at McDonald's or at an airport counter, Fassbender's emphasis on minimalist, spare and slow speech and a thoughtful, planned out life that goes out of whack at one key moment. Andrew Kevin Walker adapts a comic book about method and the importance of staying on top of things. Fincher chooses to repeat the rules, but they're often broken, to emphasize the hero's inner turmoil, but it doesn't affect his effectiveness. A melancholy quest for revenge seems to be the opposite of John Wick, yet it offers one of the most intense fights between two very different killers, supported by Reznor’s and Ross' restrained (as usual) soundtrack. Emotionless, yet absolutely precisely realised. It is the absence of emotion or some unexpected finesse that prevents The Killer from being anything more than a precise and cool study of people who simply, don't give a... Fuck!
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Since David Fincher started collaborating with Netflix, it seems like he's been making whatever he wants, and it's clear that this isn't working out. With The Killer, it feels like he was determined to make a movie about a murderer, a subject he enjoys exploring. However, the result is that Michael Fassbender spends more time narrating than actually acting. Plus, nothing really happens. The film lacks any real emotion. Sure, it's technically proficient — coldly proficient, in fact —but that's about it.
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Stick to the plan. Anticipate. Don’t improvise. Trust no one. Moving close to a competitor in the field like Anton Chigurh, he would sit across in a chair and say his piece: "If the rules you followed brought you to this, what use were those rules?" But does the emotionally detached android David even adhere to his own rules when showing weakness? Is missing the target and pretending to follow the motto "I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck." just a lie he tells himself? Sarcastic voiceover commentary, stark methodical content, a fitting coldness in form, and Fassbender’s performance, which leaves the great grizzly cowering in its den for the rest of its life. The question remains: who is the great grizzly? Best scene: The Last Supper of Tilda Swinton.
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