Killing is ugly business, no doubt. But it's the job of a certain type of killer to make it at as clean, simple, and matter-of-fact as possible. Leave emotions out of it, do the job, get away, get paid — a familiar set of rules for any number of famous film assassins, hitmen, and spies, from Delon in 1967's Le Samouraï to Craig in the latest series of James Bond movies. Without fail, though, no matter how impassive and uncaring these men are, they slip up once and get caught in webs of betrayal, romance, intrigue, and danger. Maybe they miss a target and come up short on a contract; maybe they fall in love and become vulnerable.

Not one but both of these problems are facing the titular protagonist in director David Fincher's tense new film The Killer. Not at first, though. After a brisk set of opening credits (perhaps a function of keeping the runtime to just under two hours, perhaps thanks to the influence of Netflix, which produced and is set to start streaming the film after its limited theatrical release), we open on the eponymous hitman lying in wait for his target in Paris. The character's narration coldly humble-brags about his own emotionless, professional perfectionism, making wry jokes as he calmly screws a silencer on his sniper rifle, setting up an easy shot on an unsuspecting mark.

In a split second, though, a civilian blocks the shot, the mark gets away, and the killer is forced to flee. That's strike one. He's able to make a smooth, globetrotting escape to his safehouse in the Dominican Republic, only to find  that his girlfriend has been assaulted and left for dead as punishment for the killer's failure. The supposedly emotionless assassin swears to his love that this won't happen again. And thus the second foot falls.

So begins a tale of violence and revenge as the killer ruthlessly tracks down his handlers, the other hitmen who attacked his girlfriend, and the original client himself. Throughout it all, there's no doubt that Irish actor Michael Fassbender is perfectly cast in the role. His veined and wiry frame, cut jaw, and steely eyes convey the physicality and potential for exacting serious bodily harm, while his spookily calm voice and uncannily unplaceable generic American accent obscure any possible backstory. Although the film almost over-relies on his voiceover narration — Fincher's hand is forced due to the very limited interactions the killer otherwise organically has with others — Fassbender's inherent talent, and the solid script he's given by writer Andrew Kevin Walker, pulls it off.

As a whole, too, Fincher and Walker keep up the intrigue and tension throughout the film, staying exciting while highlighting the important yet repetitive minutiae of the hitman's job. Between frenetic scooter chases and split-second assassinations are countless rinse-and-repeat precautions: changing out passports, washing hands, spraying down crime scenes, disposing of guns, slipping on surgical gloves, removing SIM cards, shaving. And not only do these actions importantly characterize the killer's skill and care, but they're as visually striking as such monotony could be; cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt makes the most of the unglamorous, from trash disposal scenes in New Orleans office buildings to wary strolls through crunchy-snow upstate New York yards to stakeout shots in trailer-park Florida homes.

Our killer has one target in each of these locales, shared with the audience in unimaginative spy-movie title cards ahead of each new chapter. The targets vary in how interesting they are. New Orleans houses the killer's handler and his secretary (played by Charles Parnell and Kerry O'Malley, respectively), who don't offer much that we haven't seen before. Beacon is home to a fellow assassin, played memorably with characteristic chattiness and quirk by Tilda Swinton. Sala Baker plays a brutish Floridian muscleman who himself is not particularly noteworthy, but whose midnight hand-to-hand combat against the killer is unbelievably impressive and hands-down the most riveting scene in the film.

While the fast-paced international escapades and pulsing score courtesy of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross together make for a good enough movie, The Killer is ultimately elevated beyond that by its message. As Fassbender's hitman repeatedly changes names, cities, guns, and targets, we see how much our own impersonal, technologically-connected world is built for a killer. From setting up a sniper nest in an abandoned WeWork (funny given its bankruptcy this week) to ordering a critical spy tool for less than $100 on Amazon, the assassin is enabled in his murder spree by modernity, and never truly threatened by all our 21st century trappings of security theater (TSA agents, doormen, motion cameras). Because his killing avoids the rich and powerful and is instead of normal people — those that society already diminishes and disposes of every day — he faces no repercussions. It's only when he comes face-to-face with real powerful people that he's stymied, as those are the ones that police and our other institutions really work to protect and defend. 

While the aforementioned narration can evoke Christian Bale's Bret Easton Ellis-written American Psycho voiceover for the worse, an early line from Fassbender's killer thoughtfully distills Fincher's ultimate message: "From the beginning of history, the few have always exploited the many. This is the cornerstone of civilization, the blood in the mortar that binds all bricks. Whatever it takes, make sure you're one of the few, not one of the many."

The movie's Netflix release this weekend may unfortunately relegate it to second-class fare, just something to download for a plane ride or fall asleep to on a date, but The Killer is an excellent hitman movie with a surprisingly insightful message.