He is silent, discreet and alert. In times of waiting, there is only concentration. When the time comes to take action, he becomes a precision machine. With his eye glued to the sight of his rifle, the assassin never misses his target. Except, it turns out, this time. A punitive process then begins for which his fiancée will pay the painful price. And here is the determined killer driven by vengeful designs. In the soberly titled The Killer (The killer), David Fincher directs a perfectly inscrutable Michael Fassbender. The result is like the anonymous protagonist, that is to say cold, efficient… and quickly forgotten.
Fact, The Killer is not a cinematic coup as were Seven (Seven), Fight Club And Zodiac, the three most emblematic works of the filmmaker. Without forgetting the often underestimated The Game (Playing with death) And The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button). In any case, this most recent film is not of that caliber, both in terms of story and image.
It’s “fine work” in every way, but it never overwhelms or gut-wrenches, unlike the other films mentioned. Many tense sequences unfold, expertly staged, but there are no real pieces of visual bravura.
The prologue, however, announces a superior vintage. In an alternation of wide shots and close-ups of Fassbender’s front and profile, Fincher shows his antihero at work. Which work consists, essentially, of waiting, and waiting again, until an opportunity arises to hit your target in the building opposite – here we are entitled to a fine tribute to Rear Window (Rear window), by Hitchcock.
In the meantime: stretching, naps, snacks… and inner monologue.
These reflections of the character of Michael Fassbender act as the narration by that of Edward Norton in Fight Club. The difference was that this one was grating and comical. The 2023 variation is a bit pompous and monotonous.
However, by dint of sharing the killer’s routine, we fall into a kind of hypnotic trance (that’s the goal) from which we abruptly emerge when the time comes to pull the trigger. Technically speaking, it is virtuosity that is all the more admirable because it is devoid of affectation.
Visceral added value
The sequel turns out to be impeccable, but strangely, not as memorable as it should or could have been. It’s a bit as if Fincher wanted to match his formal approach to the protagonist’s temperament, which is repeated like a mantra of “don’t deviate from the plan”. Despite some welcome surprises and unforeseen events, it is very calculated and, above all, very smooth.
However, we miss the slow and insidiously penetrating camera movements of Zodiac or The Social Network (The social network). At the height of his inspiration, Fincher does not just lodge in the memory: he gets under the skin of moviegoers.
Entertaining and, at the risk of insisting, very well done, The Killer does not possess this indefinable quality, this visceral added value.
In contrast, Michael Fassbender delivers a great minimalist performance. His late face-to-face with Tilda Swinton is also striking. Brief, The Killer is a good Fincher, which immediately places the film above many competitors, but not one of his best.