THE KILLER

The opening 30 minutes to David Finchers latest are a masterclass in filmmaking.

We open with our lead (Michael Fassbender) preparing for a hit. Waiting. Watching. He patiently sits, listening to The Smiths, and observes. Trained to look for the slightest anomaly, the slightest threat to his own safety, whilst also ready to pounce the moment is prey arrives.

As he does this we hear his thoughts on his life and work. What it takes to be a hitman. Personally and professionally. 

It somewhat hypnotically draws you into the world of the film. Despite the fact that his musings are often uninteresting, it builds an atmosphere that is impossible to resist

He remains, mostly, in his room. One which is cold, but efficient. Sparse, but practical. Much like the killer himself. It is beautifully shot by cinematographer Eric Messerschmidt, who takes this and turns it into something you cannot take your eyes off. 

Once the hit has taken place we then see his escape. 

We are instantly transported from what has been a calculated, almost ponderous opening, to the the streets of Paris, where The Killer must play a cat and mouse game with the oncoming police. 

Where the film was once quiet, we have the blaring police sirens. Where it was once dark, we have the flashing blue lights. Where it was slow, it now moves at an unbelievable pace.

The immediate contrast feeling somewhat jarring and disorienting. Exactly, I’m sure, as David Fincher meant it to be.

It is, up until this point, some of the greatest filmmaking we have seen this decade to date.

Unfortunately, however this magnificent half hour, cannot maintain its quality over a two hour long film.

At this point the film needs to introduce some semblance of plot to propel it forward into what happens next, yet it doesn’t feel particularly interested in doing this. What is introduced feels perfunctory. A “That’ll do” approach to move us forward to the next stylish location.

And it is stylish. My word, is it stylish. Every scene is a sight to behold. Every location painstakingly scouted. On a purely visual level it is outstanding.

But visuals, and locales, can only get you so far. There needs to be something else. 

I guess the easy comparison here would be the John Wick franchise, because The Killer is almost the anti-John Wick. They are both plot light, assassin led, revenge flicks, granted. But where John Wick approaches it with non-stop, ultra choreographed, violence, The Killer opts to take the scenic route.

It is, at times, the slowest of slow burns, with the relatively sparse acts of violence being treated almost as a nuisance, interrupting our leads musings on life. 

For all it’s faults John Wick, even up to it’s fourth entry, is still doing new and interesting things with it’s action sequences. The Killer, sadly for me, ambles along to it’s close. 

There are some enjoyable moments. A bloody fist fight - which was over to soon - and a strikingly cold conversation over dinner with Tilda Swintons The Expert, but all too often where left with The Killers internal monologues. The coldness of which, so engaging in the films opening act, seemed to actively push me away. The point? perhaps. But it didn’t work for me. 

By the end, I didn’t particularly care what happened the The Killer. And while I don’t think you need to necessarily like, or root for, your lead characters, you should still have some emotional investment in where they end up. 

I didn’t.

The Killer could have been a great short film. Unfortunately, however, Michael Fassbenders monologuing assassin isn’t interesting enough to carry it over a two hour runtime. Nor is the films resolution enough to make the journey worthwhile. 

It is not a bad film by any stretch of the imagination, the opening half hour alone offering enough to assuage anyone of that notion, but it does feel like a waste of its talent. In front of, and behind, the camera.

It is a showcase for Michael Fassbender, but in years to come will be forgotten in amongst David Finchers acclaimed filmography.