The assassin at the heart of David Fincher’s latest operates on a lean, clean MO similar to the filmmaker: precision, perfection, and a banging playlist. Based on the graphic novels by Matz and Luc Jacamon, and sharing DNA with Fight Club (nihilist, lacuna antagonist, materialist contempt) and Bullet Train (same hat, similar hitman problem), The Killer follows Michael Fassbender’s monastic freelancer as he explains his craft while prepping for a job in Paris. Holed up in a vacant ‘WeWork’ office, the unnamed agent of death does yoga, naps, grabs a McDonald’s, and listens to The Smiths while cataloguing the discipline required to successfully off a mark and melt back into a city. The rules are simple: stick to the plan. Anticipate, don’t improvise. Trust no one. Yield no advantage. Forbid empathy. Oh, and dress like a German tourist.
