The Killer

A brutal, bloody, and stylishly noir tale of a professional assassin, and a chance mishap, the story of a man with a particular set of skills and a personal code, who must right the wrong that was done to him in a world without a moral compass.

I’m a big fan of David Fincher. Zodiac (especially the Director’s Cut), Fight Club, Seven, the Social Network, Gone Girl, even his American remake of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, I like what he does and how he does it. So, him and Michael Fassbinder teaming up for the story of a methodical assassin?

I’m in.

The Killer starts with an incredible opening sequence set in Paris, France, featuring the set-up, preparation, and final execution of an assassination. A character-defining inciting incident that takes place during a multi-day stakeout of a target, it is mostly waiting around, as the titular Killer keeps himself alert and busy. He putters around his little assassin’s nest, occasionally stepping out for food, and listening to the Smiths almost non-stop, all accompanied by a lengthy voiceover by Fassbinder. It’s a glimpse into the mind of a killer for hire, a man who lives by following a strict structure, a life governed by many rules, like… for instance… don’t get personal. He’s a man who has no issue with the job he does, as statisically, what he does is just a tiny drop in a massive bucket. Millions are born and millions die every day, he rationalizes.

It’s really well done.

Amongst the various pearls of wisdom he drops about what he does, and why he chooses to do it that way, I loved the idea that, to blend in for this job in Paris, he decided to dress as if he were a German tourist, reasoning that most French people avoid German tourists as much as they can. I also liked how, much like the running gag where all of his aliases are TV sitcom characters, the parade of big-name brands we see, things like Amazon, McDonald’s, Starbucks, WeWork, on and on, that glossy slick ubiquitous commidification of the world, where everything is always available and reliably the same, is actually a boon for a person like him, someone who is trying to move quietly and unnoticed through a society that normally doesn’t pay much attention to their surroundings.

I loved that kind of thing.

So, after a few days in Paris, almost to the point where he was considering packing it in and going home, the Killer’s target finally arrives for a date with an escort in their penthouse across the street. This whole opening sequence has been very precise and deliberate. It isn’t rushed. It’s a long-held-breath bit of anticipation, and this is the culmination of the whole thing, a build-up all released in a single explosion moment as something happens that has never happened to the Killer before.

He misses his target.

This is obviously bad news, and the Killer knows it, so, after a protracted bit where he’s just trying to get out of Paris, which is great, he rushes home to the Dominican Republic, where he keep his main home. Unfortunately, a clean-up crew has already paid him a visit, and found his girlfriend there alone. She manages to get away, but she is gravely injured in the process, clinging to life in the hospital.

All of this was great. Really great. It’s not as flashy and doesn’t invlove a bunch of crazy fights, but it put me in mind of the Bourne Identity, the first one, where Bourne seemed like more of a great improviser, instead of the superhuman superspy the later ones portrayed him as.

So, yeah, once The Killer returns home and, as the song goes… “saw his Becky crying,” well, you can probably guess what happens next.

After all, if the “world’s greatest assassin is mad” genre has taught us anything at this point, it’s that you never fuck with family, not if they’re by blood, by marriage, by love, or just furry… probably not even if they’re actually a Furry too, I assume. But fyi, this film isn’t a John Wick. It’s not a Pig either. It’s somewhere in between. There’s blood, just not buckets of it, and it also doesn’t end in an expected way.

Visiting the several well-stocked storage units he has in multiple cities, all while musing on what it might be like one day, should he die, and his automatic payments dry up, and one of his storage units ends up on Storage Wars, he begins to work his way down a list. Starting with his handler, and moving on to the two members of the clean-up crew, like the film’s opening, he methodically crosses each name off the list, each one approached differently, each one specific to the particular target, as he makes his way to the very last name… the man who paid for the hit.

This is the Killer breaking his own rule… He makes it personal.

It’s really good. I especially liked the differences between each target, and how he deals with each of them. Fun stuff.

One thing I really loved is how there’s no attempt to soften the Killer. There’s no single mom waitress and preternaturally precocious child to teach him that every life has value. There’s no 11th hour emergence of a soul. He is an amoral monster who kills for a living, who only measures mercy in how much foreknowledge you have of your own impending death. This might upset some, which is fair, but all I can say is that while he’s definitely the “hero” of our story, he’s not a hero, understand? Just like there’s no attempt to redeem the Killer, there’s also no attempt to glorify him either. This isn’t that kind of movie.

It’s not a commentary, it’s more akin to a procedural.

This is a story about a very precise person who makes a mistake, and how they go about cleaning up that mistake. It’s a lean little no frills thriller, and just like how it might be too cold for some in its approach to violence, it might also be too slow and contemplative for others. It’s got action, but that’s not what it’s about, focusing on the Killer’s detail heavy world of careful consideration instead. The Killer is a niche kind of Assassin movie, but one that was right up my alley.

Big thumbs up.