The Killer premieres November 10 on Netflix. This review is based on a screening at the 2023 Venice International Film Festival.
David Fincher’s new movie, The Killer, calls back to the filmmaker’s Fight Club adaptation, letting the audience in on an unnamed lead character’s inner monologue. In frank voiceover, the titular assassin (Michael Fassbender, in his first feature since 2019’s Dark Phoenix), relates thoughts that span from quotes to live by (some with attribution, others' authors forgotten) to job-focused tactics to the mantra that keeps him focused. “Stick to the plan. Trust no one. Anticipate, don't improvise. Fight only the battle you're paid to fight.” He speaks of what he calls “the void of life,” and how his ability to recognize it sets him apart – not one of the many, but the few.
In his seemingly untouchable way, though, he is part of an even more exclusive group: he is the only, and something about that is always ready to be cracked and broken by fate. The Killer is a return to form for Fincher, who has made meals of these kinds of stories in the past, but with this film, he expertly lays bare how untouchability is dismantled by emotion, and how that can force even the most calculated into a quest for a kind of absolution – even a bloody one.
Fassbender’s character is unflinchingly good at his job, precise in all the ways that would make anyone capable of the emotional compartmentalization necessary to be a first-rate murderer. Despite being a destroyer of worlds, the killer is, at least, truthful in his thoughts, and it allows the audience to root for him as a complicated protagonist. We meet him keeping watch meticulously, doing Patrick Bateman-style yoga in a run-down hideout disguised as a Parisian WeWork. When a run-of-the-mill assignment goes awry, he is forced to adjust his methods, craft a plan to save his skin, and get satisfying revenge in the only way he knows how.
Andrew Kevin Walker’s script – based on the French graphic novel series by Alexis “Matz” Nolent – strikes the proper tone, giving the killer both interiority as well as a compelling desire to keep control of his circumstances. Walker’s work even brings a sense of humanity to the character with small tells within the killer’s monologues – tiny moments where we see that his emotional life is as rich as our own.
Fassbender is smart and stylish in the role, giving us a quiet but weighty performance that leans into the lone-wolf necessities of this perverse line of work. At times, he seems like someone we could find likable if we met him on the street; in other moments, his ruthless brutality is on full display. Tilda Swinton has a small part in the film, but it's nevertheless a pivotal one, and she perfectly embodies the qualities of wise and seasoned yet resigned. To give anything further away about her character would be a spoiler, but it’s a delight to see her show up in this story, even for just a scene. Another short-but-sweet appearance in The Killer comes from a less likely source: BBC journalist Fiona Bruce, an interesting bit of casting but nevertheless a good one. Her performance is natural and nuanced for the few minutes we get with her.
Naturally, the film is full of murders, but when the killing ramps up – and it does, in Florida of all places – the big fight scene is a joy. That might sound morbid, but the scene is impeccably choreographed, cut, and edited, to the point where it’s impossible to check out from. The violence is captivating – which might say a lot about society, but Fincher capitalizes on our proclivities, even the bloody ones, in a similar fashion to the way he did in Fight Club.
By the end of Fincher’s bombastic odyssey, the killer admits something to us. If we too can see the void, then maybe we’re all actually just one of the many – and maybe, just maybe, we’re like him. It’s a poignant closing moment and a reversal of his original philosophy that tells us something crucial about this character: He ultimately always wanted to be one of the many, one of the people who can shed the skin they live in and find some kind of peace within that void. With the ending Fincher and Walker give to the titular killer, full of satisfaction and a prescient calm after the storm, it seems like he may have gotten his wish. As for us? We’re left repeating his mantras, dissecting his work, and, at least in my case, itching to press replay on the whole damn affair.
