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David Fincher is aggressively meticulous; so is the main character of his new movie. In The Killer, Michael Fassbender, in his first collaboration with the director, plays a never-named assassin. He’s introduced to us with few details divulged about the assignment that’s brought us to him but plenty about the painstaking rituals and mantras he abides by to ensure he’s an expensive commodity among his peers. 

Presented via voiceover — a choice nodding to the movie’s comic-book origins — the hitman’s self-consciousness teeters into the comical that remains responsible for the film’s blackly funny tone. The assassin, who says he likes music for preventing his inner voice from wandering, exclusively listens to The Smiths; he does yoga ahead of the kill, his feet hugged by teensy ballet socks, to cool off. But all his droning about the virtues of assiduousness ultimately will not lead to a sterling example of what he does best but a rare misfire.

Read the full column on South Sound.