The Killer

Since David Fincher started collaborating with Netflix, it seems like he's been making whatever he wants, and it's clear that this isn't working out. With The Killer, it feels like he was determined to make a movie about a murderer, a subject he enjoys exploring. However, the result is that Michael Fassbender spends more time narrating than actually acting. Plus, nothing really happens. The film lacks any real emotion. Sure, it's technically proficient — coldly proficient, in fact —but that's about it. (13/11/2023)

Perhaps Fincher's most meditative film to date, the music calmly throbs throughout, like Fassbender's assassin at the beginning, patiently waiting for his shot, mindful of his heartbeat and, like almost the entire film, going nowhere, repeating to himself with obsessive care, "Stick to the plan.... don't improvise." And that's exactly what Fincher does, thoughtfully, with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker, layering one carefully composed scene after another, and seemingly, unwittingly, imprinting himself on Fassbender's character as well. Early on, after a botched murder, the man in question thinks "Fuck, this is the first time" and I could see Fincher having similar thoughts flying through his head after the mixed reception of Mank. And it's as if they were both chasing perfection, where failure is unforgivable. Something was missing in the rating and Fincher was not to blame. Perhaps I was expecting something more thought-provoking from Walker's script (8MM remains unbeaten), perhaps a better ending and not the shallow point at the end, including the few idyllic shots that are really flat. Anyway, precise Fincher ..... precise Fincher is back!, just the way we like it. Only that Andrew K. Walker guy picked a weaker moment. (10/11/2023)

It's almost fascinating, mischievous fun. Watching an elite hitman who praises himself to the skies in the opening fifteen minutes, then makes a terrible mistake, but never stops doubting himself, even when it increasingly seems that the mistake was far from the last, and in fact not even the first. David Fincher has taken the liberty of making a wonderfully filmed two-hour ode to the ego, and I'm sure with each successive viewing there will be more and more little "a professional killer probably wouldn't do this in another movie" details that I didn't notice the first time around. (16/11/2023)

A reflective Fincher. Technically still on top of his game, directorially still as methodical and minimalist with attention to every detail. That the screenwriter chose a simpler plot without unnecessary twists or shocking points doesn't matter much. It doesn't have to be in every one of his films. In fact, Fassbender's assassin is such an interesting and well-portrayed character that it is he who is the center of the film, and around him revolves a kind of plot with changing locations and meeting interesting people. Worth mentioning is the fantastic action in Florida, which I wouldn't have expected from Fincher. A meditative, simmering crime drama where everything works very well, just not brilliantly. (23/11/2023)

Stick to the plan. Anticipate. Don’t improvise. Trust no one. Moving close to a competitor in the field like Anton Chigurh, he would sit across in a chair and say his piece: "If the rules you followed brought you to this, what use were those rules?" But does the emotionally detached android David even adhere to his own rules when showing weakness? Is missing the target and pretending to follow the motto "I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck." just a lie he tells himself? Sarcastic voiceover commentary, stark methodical content, a fitting coldness in form, and Fassbender’s performance, which leaves the great grizzly cowering in its den for the rest of its life. The question remains: who is the great grizzly? Best scene: The Last Supper of Tilda Swinton. (13/11/2023)