Writer/ director Emerald Fennell’s “Saltburn” has a lot in common with her prior film, the celebrated “Promising Young Woman” (2020).

I’m not being complimentary.

Like “Promising Young Woman,” Fennell’s new film tries hard to be provocative but winds up being not enough and not much of anything. I recognized the talent in the filmmaking, a few good performances and plot strands that seemed to offer intriguing possibilities, but all this delivers an audience left with little to do but shrug.

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Barry Keoghan stars as Oliver, an intelligent but socially awkward college student who finds that the dumb kids are being rewarded for their social standing, while he and his only friend excel academically but are shunned by the snobbish student body and teachers.

When Oliver befriends the rich and bored Felix (Jacob Elordi), it opens a literal door to privilege for Oliver but no acceptance. As Oliver becomes more obsessed with Felix, he endangers his ability to maintain his social status in Felix’s world.

There are truly repulsive moments, like a bit with a bathtub that is hard to watch and a you-gotta-be-kidding-me scene involving a freshly dug grave. I actually wish the film had more moments like this to give it true distinction.

Frankly, Brian Yuzna’s “Society” (1989) skewered wealthy monsters and those infatuated with them with greater skill, a far smaller budget and a sense of anarchy that few films today would dare approach.

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In “Saltburn,” the only thing comparable to “Society” is the fearlessness of Keoghan’s performance, though the nature of the character is obvious from the start. The actors perform with conviction, but no one here is sympathetic or offers any true layers.

Everyone on screen is despicable and irritating.

I never rooted for Oliver or the wealthy jerks he sucks up to, nor developed much interest in figures played by great actors like Rosamund Pike and Richard A. Grant.

Despite being overlong and poorly paced, “Saltburn” has dazzling cinematography by Linus Sandgren and an effective score by Anthony Willis to keep us watching, as well as the hope that the film will eventually go somewhere or get better.

Instead, mild scenes of carefree decadence are countered with ugly, bitter confrontations, over and over again. Fennell’s film reminded me Sean Durkin’s “The Nest” (2020), which is equally well made and interesting at first but fizzles out long before the story concludes.

Another quality “The Nest” and “Saltburn” share: the setting is most memorable thing about it.”

I wonder if Fennell needs to stop presenting narratives as social parables, trying too hard to play provocateur and just go full tilt and make a horror movie?

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Some considered “Promising Young Things” to be satire and a cautionary tale, but it came across, despite Carey Mulligan’s efforts, as half-there and underwhelming. I feel the same about “Saltburn,” which gives us a big “Usual Suspects” reveal in the third act that won’t be a surprise to anyone paying attention.

Fennell is talented and can get her audiences talking, but the scenes with easy gross-outs have far more staying power than the power games and character dynamics on hand. Here’s hoping her third film can combine a grabber of a premise with fully realized ideas to elevate a consistant story.

For now, I highly recommend “Society,” which has two rows of razor-sharp teeth and has lost none of its bite, shock value and ability to entertain.

Two Stars

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Ridley Scott’s “Napoleon” isn’t “Waterloo” (1970), or that Armand Assante-led TV movie from 1987, nor anything like what Stanley Kubrick designed and nearly made with Jack Nicholson decades ago.

In fact, even if one recalls Scott’s body of work and how often he portrays historical battles (everything from “The Duellists” to “Gladiator” to “Kingdom of Heaven” to “Robin Hood”), “Napoleon” is still a surprise. Yes, the massive action scenes you expect are remarkable, but Scott’s film overall is surprisingly playful, even goofy at times, blending mythic imagery with a rowdy tone.

Scott may be in awe of his central character, but that doesn’t mean he likes him or gives him a movie that avoids how odd and unlikable he presumably was to those closest to him.

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Scott’s film depicts the life of Napoleon Bonaparte (played by Joaquin Phoenix) from 1793-1821, as we witness his growth from a promising young officer to a ferocious and effective leader with the ability to lead hundreds into battle and emerge victorious. While Bonaparte conquers every foreseeable enemy and obstacle, he becomes a French Empower and a leader who is feared worldwide.

Another defining aspect of Bonaparte’s life is his marriage to Josephine (played by Vanessa Kirby) and the film wisely never romanticizes their relationship, nor Napoleon himself. This latter quality is also shared in Scott’s flawed but still underrated “1492: Conquest of Paradise” (1992), in which Christopher Columbus (played by a miscast Gerard Depardieu) was not depicted as a hero but a visionary at sea and an unstable madman with no real leadership skills.

Here, watching Napoleon fumble his way through meetings with dignitaries and trying to maintain control of his unsteady marriage is contrasted greatly with the awesome battle sequences.

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Phoenix and Kirby aren’t giving regal, corseted, stiff and starchy turns that one would expect from a costume drama. Yes, this is still a film with French central characters and supporting characters from all over the world, but everyone is speaking English. Yet, the leads offer quirky, instinctive and frisky takes on their roles, devoid of Richard Burton-esque posturing.

There is a wild, somewhat contemporary quality to what Phoenix and Kirby are giving in their portrayals and it’s a risky choice that makes the more laid-back, exposition-heavy scenes especially fascinating to watch; Scott has given them the freedom to find inspired, even odd choices to make and what emerges is devoid of James Ivory-like posturing.

Scott avoids making the same mistakes that plagued Oliver Stone’s “Alexander” (2004), an entertaining failure that couldn’t overcome some glaring miscasting and a third act that went off the rails. The pacing here is a problem, as “Napoleon” is as overlong as the running time would indicate, but there are more than enough highlights to counter the moments that don’t fully connect.

Events like the beheading of Marie Antoinette, the defacing of Egyptian pyramids and the outcome of Waterloo are all vividly depicted. “Napoleon” is not Scott’s best film, nor the very best of 2023 but the extensive, visionary and positively breathtaking sequence depicting the Battle of Austerlitz might be the scene of the year.

There are many great portions here to cherish but the imagery of cannonballs smacking into a frozen lake and trapping soldiers on horseback into a watery grave will never leave me.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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While I’m mentioning it, lovers of horses in general shouldn’t even consider seeing this- Scott has provided dreamy equestrian imagery before (notably in his 1986 “Legend”) but here, the shots of horses caked in blood, fallen during battle, and even exploding from cannon fire will rattle anyone who watches “The Black Stallion” annually.

Horse lovers should stay away (it may read like I’m being snarky but I’m actually entirely serious).

For everyone else, Scott’s latest has the visionary quality of his earlier films, the jaw dropping spectacle of his “Gladiator” and the giddy delights of his campy “House of Gucci.” For a filmmaker who is still making knockout, risk-taking and remarkable epics at the age of 88-years old, Scott’s work remains essential, especially on the big screen.

Having Scott take on this material was a natural fit and “Napoleon,” while less than perfect and in need of a definitive Director’s Cut, lives up to its must-see status.

Three and a Half Stars

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It took an upstart news network to debunk three-plus years of lies.

The Fall of Minneapolis,” now playing on Rumble, lets the Minn.-based Alpha News team dissect the death of George Floyd and its aftermath.

 

The Rumble debut makes sense in more ways than one. No Hollywood studio would touch this radioactive material. Streamers would rather air a double feature of “Batgirl” and “Coyote vs. Acme” than share “Fall.”

Plus, the film’s steady drumbeat of shocking revelations may make audiences hit the pause button a time or two.

Veteran Minneapolis reporter Liz Collin is the face of the film, asking simple, direct questions to the officers and family members impacted by the false narratives tied to Floyd’s death. It’s based on Collin’s book, “They’re Lying: The Media, the Left and the Death of George Floyd.”

RELATED: COLLINS SPEAKS TO THE HIT ‘CAST ABOUT UPCOMING DOC

“The Fall of Minneapolis” is soft spoken, never raising its voice to be heard. No Michael Moore-style theatrics or talking heads wagging their fingers at the camera. Even those wronged by the events in question refuse to cry out or take a political stand against the Democrats who betrayed them.

Some could argue they should, but it’s their restraint that registers.

The lies in play are so loud, so shocking that to meet them halfway would be a mistake. Alpha News struck the best way to approach the material. Even the soundtrack is subtle, sometimes imperceptible in its graceful notes.

The volume will come from the audience, watching narrative after narrative crumble before their eyes.

This is one hard, but necessary watch.

RELATED: FLOYD PROTESTS BURN BELOVED BOOK STORE TO THE GROUND

The opening 15 or so minutes of “Fall” prove chilling. We see the various body cams attached to the officers who arrived to greet George Floyd after he tried to pass off fake bills at a local shop.

The vast majority of Americans have never seen this footage. Much of it was held for months, and months, while “mostly peaceful” protests raged across the country. If this reminds you of the Nashville shooter’s manifesto being covered up by the press and police … it should.

We watch several officers try to coax Floyd into a police cruiser after he resists arrest and refuses to follow their simple commands.

The officers show remarkable patience, trying over and again to get Floyd to follow simple instructions. It’s an agonizing watch, especially since we know we’re witnessing Floyd’s final minutes of life.

The four main cops weren’t all-white bigots ready to punish Floyd as they saw fit. Two were white, including Derek Chauvin, while one was Asian-American and another was black.

How many Americans realize that despite the endless coverage of Floyd’s death?

The story shifts to the “mostly peaceful” protests, including the fall of Minneapolis’ 3rd precinct. We hear horrifying stories from the officers on the scene – black and white officers – who were left defenseless while bricks, fireworks and worse were hurled at them.

The footage is chilling.

“Just wear your helmets and stand there,” one officer recalls of the message from their superiors.

No riot gear. No back up. No support.

The rioters ruled Minneapolis, period. They could act with impunity, and they did just that. Is it any different than pro-Hamas radicals rampaging across the country right now with nary an arrest in sight?

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Most of the officers in the film retired following Floyd’s death, and reluctantly so. Several are brought to tears recalling their decisions, anguished to leave a job they cared deeply about.

There’s more, so much more … from the glaring problems with Chauvin’s trial to the actions of key Minnesota players like Gov. Tim Walz and Attorney General Keith Ellison.

Does it matter that the initial Floyd autopsy showed no damage to his neck area but deadly levels of fentanyl in his system?

Apparently not.

The Left’s “narratives” reigned supreme. They still do today.

The chapter on Chauvin’s trial reveals critical evidence wasn’t allowed to be considered. We also hear from both Chauvin and Officer Alex Kueng from prison. They, too, speak calmly about the many false narratives that led to their prison sentences.

“Fall” lacks the razzle dazzle of some Netflix-produced documentaries. It’s stlll handsomely mounted, rigorously assembling the details that matter. That style includes eyewitness accounts, video footage and documents all woven together to support truths too inconvenient for the corrupt press to share.

And, of course, we learn how crime has exploded in Minneapolis since BLM and “Defund the Police” rose up following Floyd’s death.

  • Homicides soared.
  • Carjackings soared.
  • The number of police officers shrank from 892 to 513

Coincidence?

There’s only one major flaw with the documentary. It’s the title.

It’s not “The Fall of Minneapolis.” It’s “The Fall of The United States.” The problems in Minnesota are felt across the country, and they’re not getting any better.

HiT or Miss: “The Fall of Minneapolis” is essential viewing for every American. It’s that simple.

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At this point seeing an animated Bernie Sanders in a Disney film wouldn’t shock us.

The studio’s Leftward lurch, both in its battles with Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis and woke agenda, is Hollywood’s worst-kept secret.

It’s sent the mega studio into a fiscal tailspin and left apolitical fans wondering when the studio will rediscover that ol’ Disney magic.

“Wish” isn’t that moment. It occasionally soars thanks to buoyant musical numbers and animation that’s both classic and cutting edge. The film’s biggest surprise? The story asks viewers to make their dreams come true, sans government.

Really.

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Rosas resident Asha (Ariana DeBose, solid) longs to serve as King Magnifico’s apprentice. And why not? The suave King, voiced with elan by Chris Pine, is a benevolent leader of Rosas whose signature move is making his subjects’ wishes come true.

Long live the King!

Except when Asha applies for the position she gets a peek at the man behind the throne. He controls the populace by hoarding their wishes, depicted as glowing blue spheres that float within the castle.

The fine print? Giving the King your wishes makes you forget all about them. And he’s particularly stingy when it comes to making them a reality.

That convinces Asha to storm the castle, or at least sneak in and grab her beloved Grandpa’s wish back before it’s too late. The old timer, voiced by Victor Garber, just turned 100, mind you.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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And she’s not alone in her quest. She wished upon a star (oh, the Disney Easter eggs you’ll find) and snagged an adorable star named Star to guide her way. Star is both cute and bland, a surprising combination from a studio known for clever sidekicks.

We do get a second stab on the sidekick front: Valentino, a talking goat given vocal gusto by Alan Tudyk.

Can we stop and say how weird, and complicated, this all seems? Simplicity matters, and there’s a lot of world building required to get things moving.

Even weirder? The story is a direct assault on Big Government and the quest for protection at all costs. Trust me, King Magnifico coos. I’ll keep you safe and happy. And stop all that dreaming. We’ll do it for you.

Sound familiar?

And, of course, he’ll keep their wishes at arm’s length. Maybe forever.

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“Wish” starts strong and boasts several catchy musical numbers. DeBose voice is a perfect match for Disney princesses. The Mouse House’s animation team, which renders characters as vibrant as any studio ever could, remains unparalleled in their gifts.

The film blends hand-drawn characters with digital flourishes, creating a distinct look that’s easily digested.

Some sequences strain for whimsy and flat-out fail. Star transforms a gaggle of chickens into gargantuan foul to zero narrative effect (or laughs). Supporting players, like the local lad who’s as dull as a brick never comes to life.

Nor does Gabo (Harvey Guillen), Asha’s savvy confidante. Giving the great Tudyk so few funny lines here is darn near criminal.

What a missed opportunity.

RELATED: DISNEY GOT EXACTLY WHAT IT WANTED

It’s as if writers Jennifer Lee, Allison Moore and Chris Buck knew what a classic Disney film looks and sounds like but didn’t dig deeper into its creative DNA.

The saga packs plenty of on-screen diversity, but the woke lectures got left on the cutting room floor. Completely.

Conservatives will be stunned by the story’s core messages, but audiences of all ideological stripes will pine for a third act worthy of the Disney brand.

HiT or Miss: “Wish” offers a shockingly Libertarian message, but it can’t stand tall next to past Disney classics.

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Taika Waititi’s moment didn’t last long.

The quirky talent behind “The Hunt for the Wilderpeople,” “What We Do in the Shadows” and, most importantly, “Jojo Rabbit” offered a fresh take on staid Hollywood formulas.

His “Thor Ragnarok” doubled down on his twee aesthetic, blending MCU heroics with big belly laughs.

Then he gave us “Thor: Love and Thunder,” a colossal misstep and the first suggestion his vision has an expiration date.

The director’s “Next Goal Wins” all but confirms it. The fact-based tale of an underdog soccer team seems perfectly suited to his skill set. Yet nearly every element of this can’t-miss story flops like a baller faking an ankle sprain.

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Michael Fassbender stars as Thomas Rongen, a soccer coach in desperate need of redemption. He’s hot-headed and brash, and he’s handed one of the worst coaching assignments for his potential comeback.

Steer American Samoa’s terrible, awful no-good soccer squad to victory, or at the very least the team’s first goal.

Good luck.

Thomas rails against the players’ carefree manner, willingness to pray at select times of the day and lack of competitive fire.

Plus, they’re terrible at, you know, soccer. They once lost 31-0, mind you.

Thomas quickly butts heads with Jaiyah (Kaimana), the team’s trans player. The character is fa’afafine, an American Samoan phrase that roughly translates to nonbinary but comes with a complex series of cultural identifiers.

For what it’s worth, trans athlete Jaiyah Saelua played on the real American Samoan team so the character’s inclusion isn’t woke, just historically accurate.

Jaiyah is the only player on the team who emerges as a fully-dimensional soul. The rest prove interchangeable, and co-writer Waititi shows little interest in addressing that.

The rest of the film feels like Waititi playing in his preferred sandbox, reducing every character interaction to a childish collection of winks and grins. He can’t take much of anything seriously, and the film’s basement-level stakes confirm it.

FAST FACT: “Next Goal Wins” finds Coach Rongen dismissive of the locals’ spiritual side. In real life, the coach quickly rallied behind their daily meditations and joined them in their prayers.

The locals emerge as sweet and naive, spiritually sound and unfailingly patient. They should have sent this version of  Thomas packing on more than one occasion given his gruff nature and fiery temper.

Fassbender is a terrific actor, but no one could make sense of the Thomas Rongen on display in “Next Goal Wins.” His demeanor changes from scene to scene, and the addition of his separated wife (Elisabeth Moss) to the story can’t flesh out his motivations.

Waititi, to his credit, gives Jaiyah depth, maturity and, most notably, flaws. Yet he treats Thomas so poorly it’s like he feared critics would dub him a “white savior” character and trash the film (he could be right). The screenplay literally mentions that phrase.

The screenplay’s contempt for the coach is palpable.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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Shouldn’t a sports movie show some respect for the inspirational coach, instead of showing him crib lines from famous sports movies?

What did Thomas bring to the team, anyway? The film hasn’t a clue and nor will confused audiences on the way out of the theater. Few sports films prove as disinterested in the game in question as “Next Goal Wins.”

Will Arnett of “Arrested Development” fame plays the new man in Thomas’ ex-wife’s life, stepping in for Armie Hammer following the star’s bizarre Hollywood scandal. It’s a glorified cameo beneath Gob’s talents.

Waititi does convey some of the territory’s culture, from its deeply spiritual nature to its curious style of “trash talk.” Except every new wrinkle comes pre-packaged with yuks and smiles, diminishing their dramatic impact.

“Next Goal Wins” may be best remembered for misusing the classic Dolly Parton hit “9 to 5” or for a tone-deaf reveal in the third act that should have arrived an hour earlier 

HiT or Miss: “Next Goal Wins” seemed like catnip to a director like Taika Waititi. Instead, it’s a misfire on every level that counts.

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Albert Brooks hasn’t directed a film since 2005’s “Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World.”

His last solo venture, “2030: The Real Story of What Happened to America,” came in book form 12 years ago. So seeing Brooks in Rob Reiner’s documentary is an event to savor before the very first question is asked.

“Albert Brooks: Defending My Life” lets the old friends reminisce about the comic’s groundbreaking work, his private life and how Hollywood tried, in vain, to corral his gifts. 

Don’t expect tough questions or salacious Hollywood dirt. “Life” is meant for anyone who loved Brooks’ comedy and wants to relive one of the most peculiar personalities of the 20th century.

On that scale, it’s a roaring success.

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Brooks and Reiner’s ties go back to high school when the former was known by his birth name, Albert Einstein.

The two connected long before they found fame and fortune, and those early memories prove warm and inviting. Brooks’ recollections of his famous father, a radio personality plagued by poor health, suggest the guiding light behind his son’s comic id.

Harry Einstein’s death during a Friar’s club roast is recalled with the kind of bleak humor familiar to Brooks’ best films.

“Lost in America” featured a couple who lost everything after a tragic night at a casino.

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We’re treated to Brooks’ appearances across the talk show landscape, and every time he brought something fresh and unusual to the stage. He might strip down to his underwear one moment, then turn a child’s toy into a hilarious sketch the next.

He was bold, brave and willing to try anything to make us laugh. And it almost always worked. One wonders if today’s safe corporate talkers would have room for an innovator like Brooks.

“Life” features Brooks’ admirers, including Chris Rock, Jon Stewart, David Letterman and Conan O’Brien. Other talking heads seem added for marquee value only.

Why would Reiner invite disgraced anchor Brian Williams to share his thoughts on Brooks? Others, like Jonah Hill and Nikki Glaser, offer glib assessments of Brooks’ work.

We do get some interesting, behind-the-scenes snippets from the artist’s career. Studios repeatedly tried to muffle his films, with mixed results. His breakout film, 1979’s “Real Life,” nearly hit theaters without critical feedback, something Brooks knew in his gut would be a terrible mistake.

That meta comedy previewed the dawn of reality TV and many self-aware stars to come.

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Years later, a studio blanched at putting out a film with the word “Muslim” in the title following an Islamist attack, forcing the film to hit theaters under an indie studio shingle.

It tanked.

Reiner’s career decline has been both precipitous and shocking, and it’s possible his Trump Derangement plays a role in that sorry state. The “Princess Bride” director refuses to bring his hard-Left politics to the affair. His approach is simple, straightforward and heartfelt.

That may be why Brooks allows the film to gently invade his personal life. We meet his wife and two grown children, and for all of the comic’s on-screen dysfunction, his family appears Norman Rockwell-esque.

The most uncomfortable moments come when Brooks and Reiner discuss their mothers. Both had show biz aspirations but were limited by maternal duties. It’s the closest the documentary comes to having an edge, and it’s impossible not to lean in and watch how the pair navigate their emotional wounds.

Brooks still works sporadically as an actor (2015’s “Concussion,” “Curb Your Enthusiasm”) but appears semi-retired as a comedic force.

That’s a shame, but he’s left a legacy few humorists can match. It’s why “Defending My Life” is so satisfying. It’s a rare chance to relive his glory days and hear him crack wise once more. 

HiT or Miss: “Albert Brooks: Defending My Life” recalls the legendary comic’s career in ways that will make longtime fans grin from start to finish.

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David Fincher’s new film, The Killer” is exactly the kind of movie you’d expect the brilliant dark prince of cinema to make once he got “Mank” (2020) out of his system.

Not based on the landmark 1989 John Woo film of the same name (as I incorrectly assumed when the project was announced) but a French 1998 graphic novel by Matz and Luc Jacamon, Fincher is in his element here.

That is if you’re into his trademark, auteur touches of unflinching darkness, immaculate framing and characters drowning in despair and tainted by the evil around them.

In that case, you’re in for a treat.

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Michael Fassbender stars as a man known to us only as The Killer, a highly disciplined, empathy-free and wealthy assassin who botches his latest hit. When his employers turn the tables on him and get personal, The Killer goes on a worldwide manhunt to eliminate everyone who has suddenly presented themselves as a threat.

Working once again with “Se7en” screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker, this is a world of isolation and random acts of violence, with The Killer living a vampiric existence of sleeping, hiding, waiting, eating, waiting some more, then finally striking on his targets.

What is the point of such an existence? Who cares? As long as he sticks to the plan and doesn’t improvise (among the many mantras we hear via Fassbender’s inner monologue providing helpful, if redundant, voiceover).

Fincher’s straightforward storytelling matches the no-nonsense occupational approach of his main character. I have yet to see Fincher’s Netflix series “Mindhunters” and last encountered his work in the personal, out-of-character “Mank.”

As always, there is dark subtext in Fincher’s work and, even at its pulpiest (as with Fincher’s best films), we’re in the headspace of awful people in the most vivid and exploratory way.

Fassbender’s character and performance here, as a man possessed and rotting from within, reminded me of his fearless, wonderful turn in “Shame” (2011). Although we often hear the inner thoughts of The Killer via Fassbender’s ongoing voice over, we see the contrast of his on-the-job concentration with the vulnerability he expresses towards a loved one.

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Walker’s sick sense of humor comes across in the identities The Killer uses for each of his stops (20th-century pop culture buffs should recognize it immediately). Otherwise, don’t expect comic relief.

Even Fincher’s “Gone Girl” (2014) is funnier.

“The Killer” has a similar texture to Fincher’s “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” (2011), with its slick surfaces, cold landscapes and a scratchy feel to the whole thing. There is a cynicism in how the characters see themselves versus the reality of their existence.

Note how a different killer declares that she’s been good for so long, but is referring to eating healthy and not the business of murdering people professionally.

Fassbender has a chilling scene with Tilda Swinton, as well as a fight scene that is one for the ages. There’s also a great promo for Amazon delivery (among the best uses of product placement to move the plot forward that I’ve seen) and, even when Fincher takes time to slow things down and observe our main character sitting around waiting, the film itself never loses its ability to keep us in its grip.

FAST FACT: David Fincher’s interest in film bloomed at an early age, partly thanks to the influence of a famous neighbor. The future director grew up in San Anselmo, California near “Star Wars” legend George Lucas. Fincher found early work at Lucas’ FX studio Industrial Light & Magic.

Of the missteps, there is one scene that uses voice over that isn’t Fassbender and it doesn’t work. The climactic scene with Arliss Howard as a wealthy businessman also fails to connect as intended.

Despite the subject matter, “The Killer” lacks the concentrated sadism of “Se7en” and the rape content of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” While Fincher’s latest is as cold hearted as one would expect from Walker as the screenwriter, it’s also always fascinating.

“The Killer” ends abruptly but fittingly – there’s no proper beginning or ending to the life or story of The Killer, just moments.

In the final scene, as much closure as it allows, we’re unsure if we’re exiting the story on a positive note, or if another character will suddenly enter and end things for everyone. Like that final closing shot of “The Sopranos,” we conclude on rejuvenation, the value of family being together, and the horrible uncertainty of any future moment, accept the one we’re living right now.

Mr. Fincher and Mr. Fassbender, welcome back.

Three Stars

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