There was never a moment in The Killer that felt completely original. With a barebones storyline that followed in the footsteps of every classic crime thriller trope, it didn’t take any risks that surprised me during its runtime. So why did I enjoy it so much?

David Fincher’s newest film begins with a cold opening of a nameless hitman (Michael Fassbender) staking out his next assassination above the streets of Paris, introducing our ears to the film’s excellent sound design and philosophical narration. 

This opening prologue establishes the directorial vision Fincher carries out for the rest of the film. Whether it be immersing the viewer in his signature slick digital cinematography or the aforementioned sound design, the emphasis on visual storytelling throughout makes the film feel more like an exercise in style than story. 

At first, this approach worried me. While I loved the tense, self-contained opening, the film’s progression from one brutal takeout to another started to feel rote and lacking character development. Fassbender’s performance, equal parts pragmatic and cold-blooded, reveals a character that sticks to his violent methods no matter the circumstance, eliminating much of the conflict when wondering what he will do next.

But mid-way through, I started to accept what Fincher was trying to accomplish. Looking at the film as less of a narrative and more of an experience, the loose vignette-esque series of events became an engaging watch. Each one started to feel like a new approach to the genre: one a fight scene, another a tense monologue from Tilda Swinton’s unique character.  

In this way, the film felt like a video game. Watching Fassbender’s exploits, preparation, and execution for each kill was like progressing through levels of a stealth game, and his minimal dialogue in favor of extended narration immersed us in his thought process and methods to add intrigue to the man behind the gun. It was unique to watch a movie built around the spectacle, big and small, and something that made it uniquely fitting to be watched streaming on Netflix. 

Still, despite the subjective lens through which we view the story, there’s a lot left unanswered about Fassbender’s character by the end of the movie. Sure, his antisocial behavior explains a lot about him – his profession, his isolated lifestyle, and his The Smiths-listening meditation – but I wanted more fleshing out many of the relationships he has with his enemies.

Of course, much of the ambiguity leaves us to fill in the gaps, which further drives home the interactive and video-gamey nature of the film. But at some point, a movie like this has to bring us back to reality, and by ending on a note of uncertainty it makes the character’s ultimate goal seem unfinished and forgotten in favor of something that would end the story quickly. 

One could argue this ambiguous approach is intentional, to portray the character as someone who doesn’t fully belong in civilized society. As the story progresses from victim to victim, his hypocritical moral code makes his reaction to each situation feel a bit unpredictable: whether it be a frantic fight scene or a monologue with Tilda Swinton. While the ending didn’t wrap everything up in a bow, it did show how much could be done with simple variations to the basic concept throughout the film. 

Looking back, I wish the film hadn’t played its cards so safely and kept the story simple to focus on a purely cinematic approach. But for what it is, an exercise in filmmaking craft, Fincher’s dedication to his vision is admirable. While it may not have lived up to its fullest potential, it’s the kind of raw experience that made it a great two-hour watch on Netflix.

Rating: 7/10