David Fincher
The Killer

Jef and His Brothers: from Melville to the Continental to Fincher, a Short History of Assassins in Cinema

Beyond the fact that The Killer is based on a comic book series, the cinematic genre devoted to the figure of the solitary, methodical assassin, obviously under contract, is one of the most explored within neo-noir. Clearly starting with the guardian deity of this particular type of film, namely the cinematic progenitor of the Polar (a French subgenre that combined noir and crime drama) Jean-Pierre Melville.

Jef (renamed Frank in Italy, it is unclear why) Costello, protagonist of the iconic and seminal Le Samourai, given face by the ineffable Alain Delon, is an epochal work and one of the most influential, cited, and honored in genre cinema.
Starting from John Woo's absolute masterpiece, which shares its name with Fincher's new film and serves as a reference point for Hong Kong action cinema and beyond. Another illustrious example is Jim Jarmusch's Ghost Dog, which, in its own way, diversified the figure by leading it to a twilight reflection on the approach of the end of the world, with the increasingly aggressive advent of progress at the dawn of a new millennium.

Obviously, one cannot fail to mention Leon, just to not overlook the Professional par excellence.
Leading up to the saga of John Wick, where assassins even populate metropolises as if there were no tomorrow and enjoy an organization never before seen, almost corporatist.

There are many other cases of contract killers seen in cinema (or on TV, as in the case of the cult series Killing Eve, declined in the feminine), because this figure is a kind of archetype and, therefore, transcends epochs and fashions. Often without a name, like Sergio Leone's stranger or Walter Hill's Driver (of whom Refn's neon Gosling is a direct descendant). Dark and metaphysical figures, immune to the laws of time.

This explains the long course of these films, and why after so many years and countless examples, the fascination never wanes. It does not fade away. It does not set along with the narrative arc of the characters; rather, it rises again and reappears always in new forms and guises.
Forms and guises that now have the profile of Michael Fassbender. A nameless killer (indeed) but with a thousand different identities.

This long introduction serves to explain the context of a genre treaded so many times that finding something interesting in this new work by the director of Seven and Zodiac is indeed a daunting task. If you want to put this archetype back on stage, you have to have something truly important to say, but it is evident that is not the case with Fincher. Instead, he shows a certain lack of ideas, leaving everything to form and craft, thus creating a film of great stylistic perfection but leaving very little of substance at the end of the viewing.

The form, on the other hand, certainly outlines the psychology of its protagonist: cold, cynical, totally and intentionally devoid of empathy to best complete his mission. Bringing him closer, in this sense, more to an Anton Chigurh than to a Geoffrey Chow, the romantic and tragic hero of the above-mentioned John Woo film. The original title in Cantonese referred precisely to heroism.

The philosophical reflections - if they can be considered as such - of the character, moreover, are actually rather banal, while those that remain only hinted at in the beautiful first chapter of the film might be more interesting, concerning the environmental context in which it carries out its criminal actions: in the twenty-first century, in the age of surveillance and the greatest social control ever recorded, it is more complicated than ever for a killer to hide in the crowd.
But anyway, Fincher is not interested in the manhunt or introducing police elements and their related, overused dynamics; no ambitious detective duo will be placed between the man, his camouflage, and his revenge.

The Killer is a grim symphony in six acts, with the first remaining the most accomplished and evocative: the crosshairs, the silencer, the weapon assembled with care and expertise, the ritual but also the humanity (strange, given what will follow, and perhaps contradictory) of the assassin, who feels tiredness, suffers from lack of sleep, and finally, to focus on the target, listens to the Smiths.

But no matter how perfectionist and methodical one can be, the unpredictable always gets in the way. A woman who shouldn’t have been there, an extra figure, an air displacement. The famous butterfly on the sight, in short. Rationality and technique have their limits even in modern times.

The Killer is fundamentally a nihilistic film, aware that death is nonetheless the conclusion of any human story, awaiting darkness and emptiness or, for those who believe, another dimension beyond the earthly one. Fincher sends no messages nor idealizes anything, but he also lacks the necessary authorial depth to talk about certain topics in these cases. So the film remains good entertainment but not much more, directed on commission by a technically impeccable professional as much as the character he portrays on screen. But as I said, technique, craftsmanship, and expertise are not always everything.

Fassbender is a thoroughbred actor of the highest level, but here, perhaps, remains at least partially wasted.