The Killer

Fincher is yet another filmmaker I don’t revere as much as I “should”. By which I simply mean I don’t think of him as the mythic figure many critics and cinephiles do. To be clear, I like (even love) some of his work: Fight Club was formative for me, and Se7en has been lodged in my brain ever since first watching it. I should probably rewatch a couple of the others which are widely beloved but I’m lukewarm (or even cool) on and haven’t seen in a decade, such as The Social Network. Currently, though, I just don’t put him on the same pedestal as others, so this wasn’t a movie I was anticipating. Although the fantastic poster design certainly grabbed my attention, as did the lead being Michael Fassbender, and Tilda Swinton also being involved.

Fassbender plays he titular Killer, whose given name is obscured behind dozens of aliases cribbed from pop culture. He’s an assassin whose services are available to the ultra-wealthy, no questions asked. His oft-repeated mantra serves as a reminder to keep him on track and alive: “Stick to your plan. Anticipate, don't improvise. Trust no one.” He’s got it all figured out, right down to an extended philosophy on life and “work” which he meticulously lays out in his internal monologue while waiting for a chance at his current target. But despite all his planning, the job goes awry, and he’s forced to bail. So he returns home, and finds his girlfriend Magdala (Sophie Charlotte) in the hospital, the result of a vicious attack which seems to be connected to his profession. So he does the only thing he can do: he puts his skills to use tracking down and eradicating those responsible for this violence.

This joins the recent pantheon of anti-revenge movies. Pig is of course the example I most often mention, but also stuff like The Card Counter, The Menu, and The Northman. Ones where at minimum, the idea of revenge is complexified, if not outright spurned or turned on its head or otherwise exposed for the pseudo-solution it is. Given that the revenge movie has been a staple of Hollywood forever, and a general storytelling conceit for much (all?) of human history, this type of deconstruction will never cease to be relevant. Revenge movies will continue to be made, and movie’s like Fincher’s (which is based on a French series of graphic novels) will continue to offer a counterpoint.

Almost all of these movies draw you in by setting up a traditional revenge tale, and The Killer is no different. It takes a bit more time getting there, and the chapter divisions make the events feel more cleanly separated, but you almost immediately understand the connection between the attack on Magdala and The Killer’s failed assassination attempt at the beginning of the movie. Additionally, on that initial stakeout, we get to know the type of character he is. As with so many self-styled “cool guys”, he’s a man of few words, although we hear his inner monologue in voice-over throughout the film. He talks about people’s tendency to fall victim to their beliefs, how it’s really all about the few who manipulate and domineer the many, and the importance of leaving no trace. We get every single way in which this guy thinks he’s better than everyone else, smarter, less subject to his own emotions. A globetrotting cool guy with complete and total control over himself.

All of this is such a classic setup that you could be forgiven for overlooking all the small, subtle ways Fincher is undermining his self-seriousness. We meet him hanging out in an abandoned WeWork. He uses a smart watch to monitor his heart rate, dresses like a German tourist he once saw, and extols the virtues of McDonald’s. All of these details in isolation are sensible, but to place such an intense man in them is just funny. It takes him down a peg and paints him as a try-hard, showing that part of why he loves being an assassin is the performance. Which is also what makes him so dangerous: he’s high on his own supply, and feels nearly invincible, so he won’t hesitate to solve his problems with brutality. This leads to the movie’s first bit of tension, as he’s so anxious and confident that he very nearly wastes a mailman.

On a more fundamental level, this playing the part of a cool guy instead of being one is betrayed by his inner life. It’s not that he has nothing to say: we’re well aware he has plenty, and thinks he’s quite clever. It’s that he believes he’s not supposed to say anything, so he doesn’t. More consequentially, one of his core tenets is “Fight only the battle you're paid to fight”, and yet he spends the whole movie disregarding that in favor of punishing those who wronged him and his loved ones. While he goes about his “task” with his normal care and efficiency, the whole operation is itself a careless idea, exposing him and his loved ones to further consequences. Why?

In part, it’s that element of narcissism. But the rest of it is wonderfully captured by The Expert (Tilda Swinton) in their conversation over drinks. Some is conveyed through her telling of an old, raunchy joke which comes out of nowhere and yet manages to be deeply relevant. Some is through reflections of her own, which Fincher uses to hold up a mirror up to The Killer. And some is simply through her disgust at his abstinence from alcohol. It’s a subtle scene, but one that sticks with you due to its craft and heft.

All of this culminates in an incredibly unsatisfying conclusion, which is perfect. The movie is constructed such that you’re not on board with The Killer, so it ending triumphantly would feel gross and incongruent. Instead, we get a climax which is unsettling, sits uneasily, and causes us to reflect even more deeply on what all this meant. It underscores the movie’s themes without screaming them at you.

Ironically, the very thing which makes that ending so great also hinders your ability to really connect to and get engrossed in the film. In the interest of not allowing you to mistake The Killer for a hero, you don’t really get to know him. His philosophies, yes, because the movie wants to deconstruct them. But you’ve little conception of this guy outside of work. Despite Fincher’s insistence to the contrary, it’s hard to not see the obvious and unambiguous evil of The Killer as at least a partial response to how thoroughly people have misinterpreted Fight Club, owing to the undeniable coolness of Tyler Durden blinding them to his pathetic desperation. But the lack of ambiguity puts you a step or two ahead of the plot. Fincher is a great writer. so the dialog and characters are snappy enough to hide it somewhat: again, I point to The Killer and The Expert having drinks, as well as the climactic scene, and many others. But it lacks that extra bit to really sink its hooks into you, to force itself deeper into your psyche.

Other than that, I don’t have many complaints. Fassbender is great, as are all the actors in the smaller roles: Swinton, Charles Parnell as Hodges, Arliss Howard as Claybourne, and Kerry O’Malley as Delores. Even the characters with a single scene lasting only a few minutes make an impression: Leo can’t be on screen more than five minutes, yet I can still picture Gabriel Polanco’s face as he processes all that has and is happening to him. The settings are all grimy and stylized, and the score (done by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross) is once again excellent. Most importantly, it has some things to say, and says them in an unconventional ways, meaning you have reason to remember this film. And so remember it you will.