Smiths-loving Hitman for Hire: The Killer Review

Fifty years ago in film, hitmen and mobsters smoked cigars in hazy lounges; the epitome of cool, they were men of few words, adherents to strict moral code who were quick on the trigger and often cloaked in impeccably tailored suits that belied the chaos and violence they were capable of unleashing. In 1967, Jean-Pierre Melville released Le Samouraï, a film whose protagonist is the epitome of this lone-wolf, stoic brand of hitman. Michael Fassbender’s eponymous killer in David Fincher’s newest project is a clever rebuke to all of these stereotypes. The Killer feels like David Fincher’s after-poem to Le Samouraï, two films that are in direct conversation and would make a great double feature. The Killer is equally a deconstruction of the perfectly suave hitman persona presented in prior works like Melville’s whilst also updating the genre for the technology laden, gig economy of the 21st century.

The Killer opens up with a lengthy monologue delivered via narration by Fassbender as we watch his character go through the procedure and monotony of a stakeout and set-up for an assassination job. A perfect introduction to the character, the audience is pontificated to about precision and ethos as the killer quotes from philosophers and does yoga. Fincher is quick to imbue his film with the dry humor that ends up being pervasive throughout, and the notion that our killer is not like the hitmen of the past. Or, conversely, that he is exactly like them, and by finally getting a glimpse inside the mind of one of these steely characters we learn that everything is a facade. In adjacent sentences he lauds his own impressive accomplishments, while also feigning humility, making a point to act humble and admit he is no genius. This introduces one of the central conceits of the entire movie, the killer’s internal struggle between the Le Samouraï-esque character he aspires to in his mind, and the emotion and hubris he allows to seep in as his plans begin to decompose around him. It is also quickly revealed to us that the entirety of this opening stakeout is taking place inside a now semi-defunct WeWork space rented out by the killer. Another dry piece of humor for the audience and a nod to the underlying sub themes of technology throughout the movie.

Similar to Le Samouraï, not too long into the movie, the job the killer has been sent on goes irreversibly wrong. This sets off a chain of events, powering the plot through the rest of the movie. The killer soon discovers that as payment for his missteps, retribution has been taken on someone close to him and, in turn, he sets out on a path of revenge against those he deems responsible. What transpires over the following hour and a half is an impressive display from Fincher as he both leans into his most honed thriller skills to produce effective tension and subverts expectation by allowing the plot to wallow in the tedium and mundanity of the killer’s world and job. The film is underscored by this rote procedure, and yet this is an absolute compliment to Fincher. We are presented with a type of hitman that is not romantic, elegant, or glamorous, but rather is obsessed with the procedure of the job and the cold and calculating nature of the world around him. Fincher’s choice to shoot the majority of the movie this way, sidelining his normal thriller tendencies, makes the moments when this film steps out of this framework that much more effective. The procedural nature of the plot of this movie is broken up by brief but brutal spouts of graphic violence, crimson blood, and the haunting sound of a neck quickly snapping, disrupting the viewing experience. These brief yet effective segments of the movie help to rebuke our killer's espoused worldview, showing his own darkness and highlighting the ways in which he's losing his grip on the situation he has placed himself in.

The narration we are exposed to in the opening minutes of the film carries on through the entirety of the film's runtime and gives us a window into Fassbender’s mind. This is a man who seems to exclusively listen to The Smiths (we are treated to 12 different Smiths songs throughout the film) and who seems to oscillate between poetic and borderline neurotic. Having our protagonist be a Smiths fan, a band legendary for their morose and brooding music and stereotypically enjoyed by the faux philosophical (don't get mad at me, I like The Smiths) is an incredibly conscious choice by Fincher. It's also just one example of the dry and ironic humor that Fincher is able to endow this film with. In stark contrast to the pseudo-intellectual and assumptive killer we are shown through the narration, the version presented on screen is ice-cold, barely ever talking and displaying emotion almost exclusively through short bursts of extreme violence. This is a man aspiring to be Melville’s protagonist, to execute his plans with a cold-hearted precision, but incapable of adhering to the mold set out for him. Fincher treats us to one masterful shot in an elevator where Fassbender’s face is completely cloaked in darkness, simply due to the lid of a maintenance worker’s cap, a moment that directly precedes one of the film’s most gruesome segments and depicts the killer as the monster lurking in the shadows he seems to so desperately want to be. However, by simply being in that elevator, he has betrayed his stony demeanor and is acting against this archetype. Similarly, late into the movie, with a scene stealing Tilda Swinton, we watch as Fincher masterfully choreographs what a silent power trip looks like through the eyes of our killer. On the outside, Fassbender’s character is severe, unmoving and unblinking, the perfect bastion of silence and emotion he is attempting to imitate. However, through his actions, we can see the perfect distillation of the faux posturing Fassbender achieves so well as he oscillates between the projected caricature and the inner self.

The other interesting through-line in The Killer is technology and, more specifically, the modern gig economy. Fincher makes a point to show the killer’s adeptness and constant interaction with technology. For the killer, even the padlocks he uses are electric and the scooters are all phone activated. The movie purposefully draws our attention to the killer purchasing flights on his phone, using Google maps, or setting up automated payment plans for his storage units. In one particularly sardonic scene we watch as the killer orders a key-fob duplicator off Amazon for next-day delivery in order to break into a mark’s building. In one of the many narrative segments, the killer even amusingly points out how much building security has fallen by the wayside the second someone gets a hankering for Grubhub or a similar on demand food delivery service. This is all tied into the killer’s psychology as Fincher uses technology to draw our attention to the killer’s vast selection of pseudonyms throughout the movie; using banking apps, gym sign ups, and flight bookings to show him assuming a wide array of varied identities. The killer has a disconnect from society, a veil that technology has allowed him to maintain between himself and others and contributes to his conflicted and detached emotions throughout the movie.

 The most brutal and abrupt deviation from the film’s otherwise methodical pace comes somewhere near the middle when the killer decides to break into the home of a fellow hitman who he believes to be responsible for the injuries sustained by someone dear to him. What easily could have been a surgical and tactical display of our protagonist's broad skill set quickly devolves into a brutal all-out brawl. One of the most immediately engaging and kinetic sequences in the entire film, it perfectly marks the turning point for the killer as his mantra-spouting, rehearsed methodology falls to the wayside and he is forced to go blow for blow with a much larger man. From a technical standpoint, this sequence both highlights some of the best and worst parts of this movie. The fight choreography is excellently thought out and executed and is designed to highlight the ways in which the killer is allowing himself to be influenced by emotion and deviate from his plan. Despite this, the scene is poorly lit which takes away some of the tension and detracts from the well laid out choreography. This, to me, felt like a semi-common occurrence throughout the film. For the most part, Fincher seems to be firing on all cylinders as a director and using much of what has made his work great in so many other movies to his advantage here. However, small, and avoidable missteps, such as a muddy fight scene held the movie back from being truly great in my eyes and placed it more firmly in the middle of the pack in Fincher’s impressive body of work.

 There's a popular theory that every other David Fincher film is a masterpiece. If you adhere to the theory, then on the timeline this should be one of the masterpieces. Subscribing requires marking The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, a movie I will defend to my dying breath, as one of Fincher’s misses, along with other incredibly fun and enjoyable thrillers like The Game and Panic Room, so I don’t think it is something worth putting too much faith into. But, after 2020s dull and uninspired Mank, this definitely feels like a return to form for David Fincher. A taught procedural that pokes fun at the Léons, Samouraïs, and Bournes of the cinematic world, while creating an entirely new cold calculated killer for the 21st century. Out on Netflix on November 11th, I would definitely recommend catching this one. This is just one of many films in recent memory that would have benefited from a longer theatrical run and exemplifies the issue with streaming distribution in the modern age, but that's a conversation for a different essay. I’m already looking forward to rewatching this one and I think that it may only move up in my estimation over time. In the meantime, I might just listen to The Smiths.