The Killer
Whenever viewers think they have David Fincher figured out, he pivots.
Pigeonhole him as a specialist of serial killer movies and he drops an unconventional romance (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button). Or claim he’s “too dark” and he’ll make a tech narrative with Aaron Sorkin (The Social Network) or dramatize the story behind the screenplay of what’s generally considered the greatest film of all time (Mank).
And even those “conventional” murderer stories (Se7en; Zodiac; The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) eschew the usual cop/criminal split, focusing more on the toil the case takes on obsessed investigators — or head in a completely different direction (Gone Girl).
That career-spanning creativity is on display throughout The Killer, which finds Fincher re-teaming with Se7en screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker to such seamless ends that it feels like two or three years have passed since their last collaboration instead of nearly 30.
The film follows a masterful Michael Fassbender’s unnamed assassin after a job doesn’t go quite as planned, after which his itinerary for laying low in its fallout goes comparably sideways. Righting those wrongs brings him in touch with a handful of interconnected characters in New Orleans, Chicago, and New York City — and, true to Fincher form, it’s not your average revenge quest, considering the layers of secrecy and security built into this clandestine world and the measures even someone of his talents must undertake to bypass them.
Viewers only go where our man goes, and to keep that approach from being a complete bore, Walker — adapting the graphic novel series by Alexis Nolent and Luc Jacamon — treats us to voiceover akin to a kinder, more focused version of The Narrator’s in Fight Club. No IKEA-obsessed zombie, this marksman is a well-read, thoughtful yet still methodical and wholly professional individual, and Fassbender’s words and silent actions alike pair exceedingly well with crisp visuals from Erik Messerschmidt (Mank; Mindhunter).
So, yes, Fincher is certainly quoting himself here and there, but, on the whole, The Killer presents an exciting, distinct direction. The use of occasional handheld camerawork is a marked departure, as is an elaborately choreographed fight scene that would be a lock for an MTV Movie Award if anyone cared about such things since the days of Fight Club.
The level of humor in Walker’s script is also a nice addition, existing somewhere between the sarcasm of The Social Network and the dark yuks of, well, pretty much the rest of Fincher’s filmography. But it’s our hero’s fondness for The Smiths, whose tunes on his pre-internet-compatible iPod aid his needed calm while on the job, that’s perhaps the film’s most surprising (and delightful and — time will tell — enduring) detail.
Just don’t go expecting the director to populate his next few features with a soundtrack dominated by one artist. He’s already way ahead of us, planning his next unpredictable move.
Grade: A-minus. Rated R. Now playing at Grail Moviehouse and available to stream via Netflix.
(Photo: Netflix)
