Movie review: The Killer | easternkicks.com

Guns à gogo light up the City of Light in John Woo’s outré pastiche of his own oeuvre…

Voilà! When there was finally official, concrete news of “the” remake of John Woo’s The Killer (1989) deep into 2024, most fans — whether excited, alarmed or anything in between — were taken aback by how sudden it seemed for its radical transformation. In reality, however, The Killer turned out to be one of Hollywood’s most epic stories of a film’s odyssey though Development Hell, as the whole process took forever  — even multiple forevers as it was actually a series of at least four incarnations of remake that had wholly different settings/staffs/casts/directors helmed. Just some of the illustrious names floated, committed, and signed through the process of processes included Michelle Yeoh (therefore, women were always under consideration), Denzel Washington (therefore, Blacks were always under consideration), Jung Woo-sung, Walter Hill, Eran Creevy, and not least of all, John Woo. Woo had previously planned to let others direct but ended up helming it himself mainly in a city of special significance for him: Paris.

Cause célèbre though the remake became amongst les réactionnaires et les dilettantes before they even saw anything, even for more open minds, getting anything close to the killer movie fans were hoping for is no doubt a hard target — if not a mission impossible too — to reach. Especially after so many silent nights (and years, and decades) of anticipation for a film kept under wraps, for many that shifted into trepidation, to the point that some fans acted like the expected negative results and dramatic changes are akin to a bullet in the head as if forgetting they’re just heroes; fictional, flexible and indeed open to interpretation. So thinking of it solely in terms of a face-off with the original is missing the point of Woo’s determination to stay a sunset warrior chasing far more than just a paycheck even approaching his eighties: it’s about an historic attempt to make one last hurrah for chivalry and prove the original reign of assassins influencing world action cinema to this day isn’t quite over.

Émigré Mademoiselle Zee (Nathalie Emmanuel, Army of Thieves) has very little known about her other than that she is a faithful churchgoer. Actually, it’s not that she’s part of a congregation or anything, but she faithfully frequents her decrepit, desolate church for all traditional purposes: as her sanctuary aka hideout; as the place to atone for her every eponymous breaking of the Fifth Commandment; and most importantly, as part of her Parisian parish where she consults with her Irish “bishop” Finn (Sam Worthington, Dirty Deeds), who contracts her to exorcise the demons of life from souls gone astray — as defined by Finn’s patriarch, “The Godfather of Paris” Gobert (Eric Cantona, Salvation). Zee is hardly punctilious about her moral requirements for hits and even less so about practical ones: She’s ready, willing, and able at taking on any job or odds against her condemned colleagues of the underworld, only (but strictly) stipulating that the sanctity of life for the innocent be respected hence left off her target list.

Laissez-faire contract killer that she is then, Zee doesn’t mind her contact’s latest multi-hit hitjob to clear out a room in a Marseille nightclub of a drug gang connected with high-profile dealer “Coco” (Hugo Diego Garcia). Zee comes out swinging — for the dance floor, with her gun and with less orthodox weaponry — to do a number for/on her victims and leave her customary untraceable trail of bodies. Amidst all the fracas’ fallout, however, Zee accidentally blinds a survivor: American chanteuse Jenn (Diana Silvers, Birds of Paradise), who might’ve just been singing at the time but is more than suspect as Coco’s girlfriend and for even being at such a shady place then. While Zee has an amicable, trusting relationship with Finn (not so much Gobert, but he’s their degree of separation) who always does his research, she can’t quite bring herself to finish someone already rendered that harmless and helpless… for the moment at least.

Enfant terrible Coco meanwhile has his own problems with the feared Paris Inspector Sey (Omar Sy, Jurassic World) and his partner Jax (Grégory Montel, Transatlantic) in hot pursuit of him. While Sey’s superiors take major issue with his relentless and risky methods to go after suspects and push investigations — to the point they’re just waiting for a chance to get him off of their case(s) and remove him — they can’t stop him so long as he keeps getting the job done. Coco’s trail leads Sey to investigating a series of the most important, dangerous cases including a huge heroin shipment, the Marseille Massacre, and possibly undignified dignitary Prince Majeb Bin Faheem (Saïd Taghmaoui, The Good Thief). But it’s Sey’s own meeting with the suspect Jenn — not the same context as the suspect Jenn for Zee — that will prove especially fateful for cop and killer alike, as their unwilling liaison sets them on an oddly alluring collision course to hell and (just maybe) back.

C’est bon. Technically speaking, this is how a remake should be done. The Killer keeps one foot each firmly set in the past and the present in full lockstep with each other, holding an emphasis on la balance (for any who may catch the bilingual pun). Interestingly, the original The Killer — aside from the other, earlier seminal film in consolidating Woo’s heroic bloodshed template A Better Tomorrow (1986) — was the only film of his signature style that he fully wrote by himself. As Woo has in turn never written any of his American films, the results here are thereby telling for inevitably bearing his conceptual stamp like no other for its direct basis in his most organic story (over ABT with its more pronounced influences). The HK story and style is counterbalanced with a more distinctly American sensibility from the screenplay headed by Brian Helgeland (L.A. Confidential; Mystic River) and a French vibe from the mostly French staff.

Déjà vu? This film begins where the original ended, with the church motif permeating heavier than with any other Woo film (not counting the silly To Hell with the Devil (1982)). All three leads are fundamentally transformed yet essentially kept the same, which in turn does similar to the main story. The Killer is steadfast to maintain his (her) moral and honour code; if only life itself allowed the same so easily, with a narrative that significantly grays and muddles the original’s good and evil, guilty and innocent distinctions to effectively keep it à la mode. With The Killer not as self-assured, The Cop is in an opposite predicament, struggling with codes of conduct being dubiously defined for him. The centerpiece scene thoughtfully ends up making a composite character of the original’s blinded woman victim with its little girl victim — alongside composite comedy-carnage. The dialogue and comedy does generally feel less inspired, but it’s also more low-key to feel more inconspicuous. The main story is serviceable just as before; but was The Killer ever really about what it’s about?

Au contraire! There’s no denying what’s always been the raison d’etre of The Killer: l’action! (And yes, action is feminine in French.) How to handle, nurture and present it is the question everyone seemed to cram for all these years, answering with a smorgasbord of strife treating longtime fans not just of The Killer but Woo’s Belle Époque in general. There are hints of Hard Boiled from hospital mayhem and daredevil biker-killers, retreads of ABT with the hero’s empty-gun-into-face routine, and vintage pan-Woo panoplies of slide-and-shoot, dive-and-shoot and ride-and-shoot routines to push back Paris population growth by months. But in a way not just paying tribute to the turn of last century but also what he was aiming for in it, Woo tries to move gunplay further into the future as well, with a few new memorable gun shots (as in shots of guns) including one chap being dealt a classic Woo “hand of death” during a card game. It all culminates with one exquisitely ludicrous acrobatic maneuver to attain the most literal of all manifestations of the term and style coined for him: Gun-Fu.

L’ambiance is effectively designed to embellish the action, returning The Killer to Paris so to speak from where Jean-Pierre Melville and the late Alain Delon’s archetypical suave-and-silent hitman hailed from. Direct tribute is indeed paid to Le Samouraï (1967) in part of the soundtrack, with the rest of the characteristically versatile score courtesy of Marco Beltrami of Scream (1998), Snowpiercer (2013) and Logan (2017) fame. It too is best designed to flow with the action, whether for the quasi-classical ballroom piece for the first big outburst of mayhem or the pounding hip-hop beat for the plane robbery and drug lab segments. The inner locales make a natural, excellent fit for set designer Aline Bonetto’s (Delicatessen; Amélie; Wonder Woman 1984) décor, while the wider cityscape does so for renown photographer Mauro Fiore (Training Day; Tears of the Sun), with plenty of landmarks for sniping and shootouts.

Le montage cannot be understated in effect when from ace editor Zach S. Staenberg (The Matrix; Lord of War); ultra-slick in a practical rather than superficial way, as sliding montages literally sync with the dialogue in a movie where often even exposition is action. From the aforementioned staff — including their collective effort on the film’s prime setting/symbol/motif (the church) alone — it’s clear to see many are actual fans. While that’s key to note for what kept this remake from just being a money crazy cash grab, it’s as deliberately distanced from a pure nostalgia project for finicky fans demanding nothing less. The Killer here primarily aims for a different uphill battle for a new generation of fans who just might also be introduced to the original this way (as it’s not like it’s been floating around in streaming or modern physical releases for all to easily catch — but that’s another story)… Or perhaps others who may just want to see a new action flic(k) from someone they heard is an untouchable pioneer.

Oui, speaking of untouchable, that happened to be what made Sy just that as a superstar ever since: Untouchable/Intouchables (2011). Aside from merely literally becoming France’s most popular actor, there’s resonance to his casting for that French film’s unprecedented popularity with Chinese audiences. Sy has only kept getting bigger as a global celebrity and symbol of France ever since; right before this release, he was called to symbolically wave the baton for the nation’s proudest moment of the Paris Olympics at the judo competition. But in a rich irony for all who caviled at his racially “replacing” Danny Lee, Sy’s world star-making turn was for a classic character whose race and nationality was scandalously changed all the way back in the 1960s: Arsène Lupin! Half a century after Monkey Punch lovingly commandeered the property in a form not only nastier but from the 70s onward, more popular to steal thunder from the original, Sy finally brought The Gentleman Thief back home in a big way with new relevance.

Monsieur Sy’s general persona from Untouchable to Lupin (2021-now) really isn’t so far from Lee’s either. Sy made it extra-clear he was a fan of The Killer in citing it as a video rental favourite as a youth, thus he seemed pretty well prepared for the newly stylised ways he handles guns compared to past police turns (even if he has somewhere around 75 more to go to match Lee’s record there). But his most direct similarity with Lee seen here is his shared yet separate signature stare via awkward eyebrow — only done more memorably by Spock and The Rock. Switching the original’s dynamic with the “other” lead actually being the more famous and established here, Brit belle Emmanuel for her part was quickly thrust into being something you don’t see everyday: an A-list character actress, who was almost never a leading lady but consistently appeared in big blockbusters. Though I’ve never actually watched Game of Thrones (yes, seriously — and yes, I do enjoy the cool natural shade of living under rocks), I did come across the big controversy years ago about how her character was killed in it.

C’est la vie (et la morte). Yet the tellingly outsized fanbase she won from a lesser part must say something about her mystique that I’d also only been able to see traces of. Well, Zee here can be reasonably taken as the best rectification of all past perceived cases of being sidelined or shafted, and for everyone else a useful introduction to a now beyond-promising star, with Woo bequeathing her an iconic hero of new iconography and attitude. Madam Killer’s work itself is likewise re-gendered to engender a new kind of sexy: while Chow Yun-Fat formally carried out his hits in set designer duds down to his sunglasses for debonair death-dealing, Emmanuel struts in haute couture hitwear, Converse and caps for vivacious violence. Though both stars do quite well by themselves, their pas-de-deux chemistry here — generally fine and at peak times commendably sly (with their “professional” conversation over Jenn’s fate being best) — can’t match the indeed high bars of Woo’s best pairs (Chow & Lee, Leslie, or Leung; Cage & Travolta).

Our classic dub fans may call her… Minnie Mouse.

Vive la différence! Woo long expressed fascination with learning about and applying other cultures via cinema. So no fans — at least among those who followed through reading and listening to him in addition to his films themselves — should be too surprised with the pertinently Parisesque potpourri of polyethnic performers (with Emmanuel alone accounting for a diverse background) comprising a distinguished rogues’ gallery. Tchéky Karyo in fact oversaw popular Western cinema’s first female killer factory under the first Western director to effectively follow in Woo’s footsteps for La Femme Nikita (1990), and is still the hitwoman’s support of sorts. Then there’s Saïd who debuted leading France’s seminal multicultural hood film La Haine (1995) before others across countries like My Brother the Devil (2012). Even during an illustrious career as a footballer, Cantona decided upon a surprise serious move fully into acting, with his look and stature inspiring some of the intimidating roles he’d play (and rather well), having in fact just played another French mafia don in AKA (2023).

Merci beaucoup, for the thing to be most appreciative of about the making of this film: Nothing! That is, the apparent lesser interference and looser leeway to let Woo do his thing (that so many have copied over time to make us forget was indeed his thing) makes a crucial difference. That means no having to worry about dumb new scenes being tacked on à la Heroes Shed no Tears (1986), total recuts as with A Better Tomorrow II (1988), or having to resubmit to the MPAA 7 times just to get a bloody “R” rating like Hard Target (1993). You’d better believe that last one is felt: The Killer may well be Woo’s most graphically, unrelentingly violent movie overall. But it’s as evident as ever how violence is a central means of expressing Woo’s cinematic style, manner and philosophy with multiple mitigatory counterpoises (religion, deep unlikely human bonds, offbeat humour): We may now add violence as cross-cultural communication where everyone employs the savoir faire of their dialect/culture into their crime & punishment worldview.

John Woo’s daughter Angeles yet again pitches in. Let’s just say she’s a really good sport!

Pardonne-moi! Here I was — even in what I thought was my staunchest defence of Mr. Woo — speaking up for him and his latest project only in respectfully guarded optimism, and enjoining others to join in cutting the elderly filmmaker some slack. It’s not that I didn’t have decent reason for lowered expectations, noting tepid thoughts on recent Woo films, a bad record for movies long lingering in Development Hell, and an even worse record for classic foreign films remade in Hollywood even when by the same director as with Hideo Nakata’s The Ring Two (2005) or Michael Haneke’s Funny Games, (2007). But never mind any of that, as the man needs no slack. One can count the things that could’ve been handled better (hence polarized reception); but also count the things that really count — visuals, audio, cast, and above all action — that ended up at least as well as one could’ve imagined. It’s all because the auteur bided his time to prepare, rebuild and rebrand what may well be his final attempt at American heroic bloodshed par excellence.

Encore!

Toujours perdrix! All things considered then, The Killer may not be quite as good as The Killer (1989), but it is certainly superior to The Killer (2022, Korea) and The Killer (2006, India), is most delightfully surprisingly even better than The Killer (2023, USA) and The Killer (1972, Hong Kong), and is perhaps aptly enough most on par with The Killer (2007, France); and probably surpassed only by Face/Off (1997 — it’s close) for the crème de la crème of Woo’s occidental oeuvre.

“Allô? Your suit is ready. You may come and pick it up. You can wear it in your casket.”

En passant…

Presque vu: In a remarkable parallel worth noting that many seem not to know or remember, another one of the greatest crime movie directors there’s ever been also very late in his career chose to do a remake of his most internationally beloved film, also with a new lady lead replacing the popular male one. That was none other than Seijun Suzuki for his Branded to Kill (1967) remake Pistol Opera (2001). But for whatever reason (hint: the lack of the often intellectually debilitating sway of social media alongside a rather similar decreasing aptitude to separate politics from anything else) that movie never saw anything like the backlash or controversy The Killer did. That’s despite the fact Japanese action/crime cinema unlike the Chinese varieties didn’t actually have a strong tradition of fighting female leads (and the smaller subsections that did including sukeban and pink movies weren’t exactly graceful or PC about it — but maybe that’s why they were ok with them!).

La ronde back full circle to Woo on that note, the Woo remake most anticipated by moi that was slated for about a decade ago — Day of the Beast based upon Youth of the Beast (1963) — unfortunately never came to fruition due to the failure of Woo’s historical epic The Crossing (2014/15) and scrapping of he and Terrance Chang’s production company (though they collaborate to this day) and project shared with it. It is indeed very hard to keep track of all the Woo projects that never came to be or didn’t come out right over the decades, which is all the more reason to appreciate how this one managed to make it.