The Killer Review: A Cold-Hearted Portrayal of Male Ego

The Killer is a cold-hearted portrayal of the fragile male ego, helmed to meticulous perfection by David Fincher. It’s ruthless. It’s enthralling. It’s brilliant.

Few filmmakers have the diligent mentality to assemble a story quite the same way David Fincher does. For over twenty years now he has crafted what have become quintessential in the cinematic line-up of Hollywood’s history: from Se7en to The Game, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and Gone Girl. Time and time again he has demonstrated a keen understanding of how to draw an audience in with compelling layers of intrigue, carefully unravelling secrets & reveals so precisely orchestrated at the most conscientious beats to elevate his stories.

Truly determined to discover what secrets are to be revealed on the other end. These disciplines become an event greater testament to his genius when he steps out his terrifically pulpy comfort zone into more prestige material such as Mank, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and The Social Network.

Note: This piece was written during the 2023 WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. The Killer would not exist without the labor of the writers and actors in both unions.

Excelling once more at delivering Fincher’s trademark engaging deep dive into the blurred, grey lines of morality is The Killer: Which finds Michael Fassbender as a nameless assassin: one in fact who is given too many aliases without us ever discovering his real name, representing in his concealed identity how he seeks to conceal any shred of his humanity from the world and himself, as he so detailly explains through narration. While on the job in Paris, a fateful near miss sends him on the run, spiraling down a conspiracy that places him in the crosshairs on other side of the gun barrel as he battles against employers and his own conviction that, as he insists to himself and to us, that none of what unfolds from it, is personal.

Watching it from under the hot Venetian sun creates for a stark contrast as we open under the cold, cloudy skies of the Parisian capital to find our lone protagonist overlooking the city: its streets, vehicles, buildings, people, and their interactions. This wait is long and tedious: he knows this and he understands it, biding his time by stretching, sleeping according to his heartrate, working out and even occasionally enjoying an Egg McMuffin between work calls from burner phones all while inspecting every detail of the layout of his target, patiently waiting for the right moment from his darkly lit hideout, making the city unaware of his presence and even existence, just as he wants it.

As he patiently awaits the moment to pull the trigger, he guides us through the disciplined behaviors and mentality necessary for the required results to be achieved, gloating about his emotional detachment repeatedly.

But once his shot misses the target: his actions instinctively have him looking over his shoulder, second-guessing his every decision and move, prompting retaliation against his contractors. He obsesses over getting answers and eliminating those who, thanks to his failure have threatened his safe haven in the Dominican Republic, where he hides from the world between jobs with loved ones. But remember, this isn’t personal.

Fincher masterful focus is as single-minded as our assassin’s resolve: this isn’t his most grandiose story nor the one with the most labyrinthine thematic preoccupations, but it becomes nevertheless a stripped back yet complex deconstruction of the male ego as examined by a filmmaker at the height of his powers as we observe a man who’s so insecure in his existing emotionality his narration doesn’t become so much insight in to how he feels, but rather a mantra he must convince himself he feels.

Fincher avoids narration to feel like a crutch as the assassin’s words juxtapose each and every exact step he takes in preparing for his mission: from his several IDs, his storage unit, the clean-up process, the real-world gadgets used to ground this slickly edited, tense thriller as a barrage of chapters build upon each other to dissect the genuine mentality of a man whose worldview speaks so much to trauma and his awareness of his own fragile vulnerability, one he must constant insist to himself does not exist.

His perfectionism is parallel only to Fincher’s own, as represented by every riveting frame steely, moody cinematography. The polished editing on top of it gives it the feel of a checklist reflecting the constant reminder our protagonist repeats to himself: “Stick to your plan. Trust no one. Stick to the plan. Forbid empathy. Stick to the plan. Anticipate, don’t improvise.”.

It’s as if it’s a philosophy Fincher convinced himself of to keep the pacing tight & precise on one of his shortest, as me makes sure to also represent the inner chaos brought out as ripples of the killer’s murderous odyssey force him to keep on perfecting his preparation and anticipation skills: leading to one brutal action set-piece, one of Fincher’s very best in his entire filmography. Unsurprisingly: Reznor and Ross’ expert score in The Killer offers a tense filled soundscape just as intriguing as our lead character, and the sound design leaves nothing to be desired either.

To be sure: The Killer is one of Fincher’s most attention demanding films, he plays to his strengths and doesn’t spoon-feed his audience, a challenge to be sure when offering a character that is defined by how much he keeps us at arm’s length and is not at all a good person, but it’s Fincher’s analytical and deliberate peeling of the layers that absorbs one into this book-like story, in a viscerally intense cascading of events that rewards the patience of those most engaged with its deep character analysis, akin to what Nicholas Winding Refn offered with Drive.

Fincher’s innovation in how he approaches a familiar genre & style is what makes it all so engrossing and interesting to witness, due to how paradoxical the assassin is, he never loses his unpredictable edge thanks to a fascinatingly understated Michael Fassbender who consistently captivates every single moment with a compellingly near-dual performance: one whose words showcase his cruelty and cold outlook and yet the motivations spark a sense of empathy and understanding.

His hypnotizing silences and unrelenting gazes slowly become ever more informative than any of his words could ever be, allowing us an entrancing insight through the sheer subtlety of his work. Especially when confronted by Tilda Swinton, whose one memorable scene offers us the most rewarding catharsis, and dares challenge the killer on his worldview.

Her immense talent maximizes every single one of her few minutes on screen, thanks to the meaty writing of Andrew Kevin Walker, whose seemingly basic approach actually reveals mesmerizing nuance in how he deconstructs the male ego, and our eagerness to detach ourselves from our own emotionality through efficient beats, gritty characterization and overall: masterfully crafted storytelling.

The Killer is a cold-hearted portrayal of the fragile male ego, helmed to meticulous perfection by David Fincher.

Every steely frame in this captivating thriller slowly burns its way into the mind, thanks to Michael Fassbender’s masterclass of quiet intensity. It’s ruthless. It’s enthralling. It’s brilliant.

FINAL GRADE: A

NEXT: Poor Things Review: Heartfelt & Layered Coming Of Age Tale

About The Killer

After a fateful near-miss, an assassin battles his employers and himself on an international manhunt he insists isn’t personal.

Watch The Killer, in select theaters and on Netflix November 10.