IN DAVID FINCHER'S 'THE KILLER,' AN ASSASSIN HIDES IN PLAIN SIGHT

It's a noir staple to open with a bit of narration, but once the nameless hit-man protagonist of David Fincher's "The Killer" starts gabbing, he doesn't stop.

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As Fincher's assassin (Michael Fassbender) awaits his target from a high, unfinished floor in a Paris building that looks out on the home of his mark, his inner monologue runs with a smooth, affectless monotone. His musings are a mix of professional tips ("Anticipate, don't improvise"), nihilistic existential observations ("Most people refuse to believe that the great beyond is anything more than a cold, infinite void") and sincere self-reflections ("I'm not exceptional, I'm just apart").

That last line is the most telling one. "The Killer" is a terse, minimalist thriller in the cool, cold-hearted tradition of Jean Pierre Melville's "Le Samouraï." But while its methodical and solitary assassin acts and moves like cunning killers we've seen before, he blends into a modern background. He doesn't wear a trench coat or fedora; he dresses like a German tourist, with a dopey bucket hat. He shops for tools on Amazon. He picks up supplies at Home Depot. His position in Paris is an unused WeWork space.

In "The Killer," an agent of death is hiding in plain sight. He's an assassin for our homogeneous, corporate world operating in the same spaces we all do. He eats McDonalds. He drives a white Avis rental van that's the exact same as a dozen others in the rental car parking lot. Sameness is his superpower.