‘The Killer’ movie review: Smiths-loving assassin falls victim to standard thriller fare
The opening 20 minutes of David Fincher’s new action thriller The Killer would have you believe that the rest of the two-hour runtime will be a fascinating character study of one of the most exciting assassins the screen has seen in recent years, with Michael Fassbender’s titular contract killer hiding out in a WeWork attic in Paris, stalking his next target.
The Killer is overwhelmingly philosophical, fittingly listens exclusively to the ponderings of Morrissey and The Smiths, prepares for his assassinations by expertly performing a series of impressive yoga poses, and rambles to himself internally with contemporary global facts, moral justifications of his line of work and personal mantras that ensure he gets the job done efficiently without becoming attached to those involved.
The Paris job, however, to The Killer’s surprise, somehow goes wrong, and suddenly, the tables are turned on him, now the centre of an international manhunt. But from this point, what began as a promising and unique take on the thriller movie turns into an admittedly somewhat standard fare for the genre. The introduction of a tortured wife recalls moments of the likes of Taken and other revenge-based action flicks, and this becomes rather tedious and seemingly unnecessary.
We soon have The Killer move from international location to international location; then there’s a (very well-choreographed) CQC fight with a brutish assassin and a smarmy intellectual showdown with another over dinner – certainly nothing that hasn’t been seen before. Usually, this would be fine: a steady revenge action film that won’t upset the apple cart – but The Killer was just about on the precipice of being so much more, which makes it so frustrating.
Ultimately, the film posits the question, why ought The Killer bother with any of this at all? He lives in a beautiful Dominican Republic home with his wife with more cash, cars and weaponry than one could ever dream of owning, but by reverting to such a typical storyline of an international manhunt, even though it’s well delivered by its own standards, the film just feels like a wasted opportunity. There is so much of this extraordinary and quiet character to delve into, but it seems as though no one was prepared to do the hard yards. This is a narrative issue and not merely one with production or performance.
Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross are again at Fincher’s disposal, but their score this time essentially passes by without any moments of genuine quiet to reflect upon it. Fassbender does all he can to portray this borderline psychopath just about keeping things together morally, but his efforts from the opening sequence are largely undone by a focus on spectacle rather than substance.
Now, of course, The Killer is indeed an action thriller movie, and it does a commendable job of being just that – also modernising the 1998 French comic book of the same name it was based on with WeWorks, gym memberships, Amazon deliveries, cryptocurrencies and all the rest of it. But there was a genuinely fascinating character study to be undertaken here, right there waiting in the crosshairs. Ultimately, the shot was never taken this time, and the oh-so-promising target got away.
