THE KILLER (2023) - Mark Reviews Movies

The Killer, Netflix

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Review by Mark Dujsik | October 26, 2023

Director David Fincher's The Killer is, above all else, a tightly plotted and dynamically constructed thriller. For that, we should be grateful, but because it is also a Fincher film, the instinct, as with any filmmaker of some renown, is to look for something deeper than what's on the surface. Fincher and screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker do seem to be giving us something beneath matters of plot, as our assassin protagonist travels around the United States to take out one target after another. Ironically, that second layer of theme pretty much brings us right back to the first one.

In other words, here's a movie about a man who sees himself as special, despite the fact that his lengthy opening narration—the first bit of many similar internal monologues in the film—insists that he isn't. In reality, the man, known only as "the Killer" and played with the demeanor of a chilled stone (That's a compliment in this context) by Michael Fassbender, is a cypher in some ways, in that he says very little and gives away not even a hint of emotion. In others, he is simply an undeniable fact, in that he kills people and has an almost mechanical way of going about his work.

What we see is what we get, and in many ways, that's the case with the film, too. It may take great pains to announce the Killer's philosophy at almost every turn that doesn't involve him actually doing the killing, but what do his musings amount to? They don't seem to be much, other than a way to fill the silence and the inactivity of the other key component of the Killer's job: waiting. He has to do a lot of that, especially during the introductory sequence in Paris, as he waits in an empty office across the street from the apartment of his intended target.

What does he do here? Well, he sits in a chair, staring with dead eyes at the building across the street. He does some yoga, checking his heart rate every so often. The Killer occasionally ventures outside to get some food, make a call to his contact about long wait, and gets right back to doing nothing much at all.

The story comes from a French comic book series by Alexis "Matz" Nolent and Luc Jacamon, a detail noted in the slick and fast-paced opening credits that certainly don't suggest just how patient this first sequence will be. One can almost sense the thought bubbles or blocks of text accompanying the mostly static images on screen. The narration is filler, really, so that the Killer and we can have something to think about while all of us wait for the plot to begin.

What, though, does it actually say about this man? Well, there's a degree of vanity, to be sure, since his thoughts are always about how precise, meticulous, and successful he is at his work, as well as something beyond that. He imagines the world as a place of the few, who have power, and the many, who simply go about their lives under the influence of the mighty few. In which group do you imagine the Killer, a man who coldly observes life and can bring about death with a miniscule flex of a finger, believes himself to be?

If we do want to look deeper—as the filmmakers appear to want us to do—at this seemingly straightforward material, then, what do we hear in that near-constant narration? We hear a man who wants and believes he has complete control over everything about himself and the world in his immediate vicinity. What do we actually see, though, of his actions? If the opening assassination attempt is the critical indicator, we see that, well, it's only an attempt.

He fails, and that sets in motion an effort to get the Killer out of the picture, which sets him on a course of revenge against the people who want him dead and almost killed his girlfriend Magdala (Sophie Charlotte) at his hideout in the Dominican Republic. On the Killer's list is a collection of intriguing targets: Charles Parnell as a lawyer who thinks he can argue his way out of his fate, Arliss Howard as a mousy Chicago-based millionaire who somehow might be the Killer's match, and Tilda Swinton as a fellow assassin who suddenly finds herself facing an unexpected existential crisis.

Over the course of a vengeful killing spree—which inherently goes against his first principle of not having any emotional attachment to his work—that follows, the Killer messes up repeatedly, in ways both little—such as miscalculating the dose of over-the-counter medication to keep a dog asleep—and significant—such as misjudging how long it will take a man in good health to drown in his own blood. What we're observing, then, is a study of self-perception vs. reality. Yes, the Killer is good at his job—but not good enough to heed his advice and rules, for example, when it comes to making sure that a hulk of a man doesn't get the jump on him.

That makes the film much funnier than it probably should be, whether that be an intentional bit of gallows humor involving a corpse in a recycling bin or it be the fact that the Killer will execute an innocent man who unwittingly wronged him but make a considerable effort not to kill a dog. It's almost as if he knows we are watching him and, since he's the main character, want to find something sympathetically human about him.

The Killer and, for that matter, the Killer both have a lot to say, but they both, perhaps, realize all of those words mean little to nothing. Neither the film nor the character is particularly special, but they are good enough at what they set out to do.

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