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)
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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The long-awaited film by master craftsman David Fincher (especially with the script written by the mind behind Se7en and Michael Fassbender as the lead) had high expectations. So, could anything possibly go wrong? Fortunately, there were no significant creative missteps from the team, so the film offers a certain level of quality. The Killer maintains a very cold and detached tone throughout (as is typical with Fincher), so don’t expect an emotional rollercoaster. Personally, I appreciated this approach. Presenting the story of a meticulous hitman in this manner feels like a safe bet. The plot benefits from impeccable storytelling (Fassbender's monologues were incredibly engaging) and a polished audiovisual presentation (the change of scenery in each chapter was a nice touch). The soundtrack also made a significant impact at times. As for the action, it's not abundant throughout the nearly two-hour runtime. However, the visceral fight scene in the middle of the film is one of the best I've seen in the genre for a long time; only Jason Bourne might offer a comparable experience. Overall, everything worked out well, except for the ending, which was, at best, peculiar. So, I give it a solid 7.5/10.
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Michael Fassbender moves, walks and uses his voice in an interesting way. And that's all. His soliloquys are as empty as his character’s craft, and we’ve already seen the naturalistic depiction of brutal physical conflict between two cold-blooded professionals elsewhere long ago in more intense performances. The simplicity of the story wouldn’t bother me at all if it were dressed up with imaginative moments, an original psychological profile of the main character and some playing around with the formalistic aspect. However, The Killer offers none of that. The form is pure and precise, but not bold. The encounter with the perfectly cast Tilda Swinton at the table arouses the viewer’s curiosity and interest almost like the face-to-face encounter between Al Pacino and Robert De Niro in Heat, but it remains the only scene that I remember from the movie. And that’s just not enough for a David Fincher flick. I unequivocally prefer The American with George Clooney, a similarly minimalistic and creatively distinctive, yet more emotionally engaging profile of an unknown killer.
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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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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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