You can see what drew him to the project. It is, first of all, a screenplay by Seven <\/em>scribe Andrew Kevin Walker (adapting the graphic novel by Alexis Nolent and Luc Jacamon). More than that, it\u2019s an exercise (and experiment) in style, and specifically in stylized minimalism. Michael Fassbender plays the title character \u2014 who is never referred to by his Christian name \u2014 a wealthy and experienced contract killer who (stop me if you\u2019ve heard this one) does his work efficiently and professionally, and adheres to a strict code of conduct. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The early sections are mostly spent with him alone, waiting out a target on a job, to the sounds of The Smiths in his earbuds and his own searching, borderline existentialist voice-over. \u201cI\u2019m not exceptional. I\u2019m just\u2026 a part,\u201d he tells us; later, as the days tick away, he notes, \u201cIt\u2019s the idle hours that most often lead a man to ruin.\u201d The viewer who listens closely might also suspect something personal in this material for the notoriously precise filmmaker, especially when the protagonist explains, \u201cMy process is purely logistical \u2014 narrowly focused by design.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The target eventually arrives, but he fumbles the job, and as a consequence, he returns to his home in the Dominican Republic to find that his live-in girlfriend (Sophie Charlotte) has been viciously attacked as a punishment for his failure. \u201cNothing like this will ever be allowed to happen again,\u201d he tells her brother, and he sets off to even the score. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Fincher, a master stylist from his commercial and music video days forward, knows exactly what the aesthetics of this thing should be. Every shot is impeccably composed; every transition is tight and clever. The sound design is ingenious (when he\u2019s listening to his music to focus, we hear the slight bleed from his headphones when we\u2019re looking at him, but the sound shifts to full blast in his point-of-view shots). The camera moves with precision and purpose, just like its protagonist (the cinematographer is Erik Messerschmidt, with whom Fincher collaborated on Manhunter<\/em> and, less successfully, Mank<\/em>). And the score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross is hard and cold and doomy \u2014 even for them.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n He puts together a couple of commendable set pieces, including a fierce, brutal, hand-to-hand sequence that breaks the monotony nicely \u2014 it\u2019s Fassbender\u2019s best bone-cruncher since Haywire, <\/em>and the ferocity of the filmmaking matches the staging. We get a similar jolt when playful, colorful supporting characters finally turn up in the third act; witness the marvelous nonverbal things Tilda Swinton does when she comes face to face with our protagonist, or the regular-guy quality of Arliss Howard\u2019s big bad. By that point in the picture, we need some flavor, as Fassbender\u2019s handsome blankness can only take you so far. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The problem, which all of Fincher\u2019s razzle-dazzle cannot overcome, is that Walker\u2019s script is just so empty. The dialogue is trite (his repeated mantras sound like cliches the first<\/em> time we hear them), the flashes of wit are rare (his aliases are all sitcom characters \u2014 Felix Unger, Archibald Bunker, Sam Malone \u2014 a gag that realllly wears out its welcome by the eighth or ninth invocation) and there\u2019s little in the way of dramatic tension; the narrative plays out exactly as expected from the time the killer issues his proclamation. Logical leaps abound (when he spots the bootprints and cigarette butts, ask yourself who would be that sloppy). Even the central premise doesn\u2019t hold water; he\u2019s supposed to be a ruthlessly effective and efficient killer, but the inciting event is a job that goes sideways, and a later target lights out before he intended. Is it possible that this guy\u2019s just not very good at his job?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fincher\u2019s Netflix period has proven wildly unsatisfying, at least for this admirer. Mindhunter<\/em> was a fine procedural (albeit yet another example of the streamer shutting down a good show under dodgy pretenses), but Mank <\/em>and The Killer<\/em> are, without hesitation, his least successful pictures to date. His motivations for doing them are not hard to guess at; Mank<\/em> was a passion project, a niche screenplay by his late father that he\u2019d been trying to make for years, while The Killer<\/em> allowed the kind of full-on stylistic experimentation he hasn\u2019t done since Panic Room. <\/em>(The globe-trotting screenplay also allowed the director to do some traveling on Netflix\u2019s dime, so good for him.) One cannot fault a filmmaker who does not want to surrender to the boogeyman of IP for going into business with a deep-pocketed streamer that lets him make whatever he wants. But I cannot help but look forward to when he returns to crafting movies worth seeing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “The Killer” is in theaters now, and streams Friday on Netflix<\/a>. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/11\/killer2-1024x512.jpg\")
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