Today, I woke up at about 4AM, and rather than trying to get more sleep like a sane person, I immediately put on The Killer, the new David Fincher film that just arrived on Netflix. I bet Michael Fassbender’s character would approve. (The Killer has been out in theaters for a couple of weeks, but I didn’t make it out.) If you’ve seen The Killer, you already know that it’s fucking awesome. The movie represents Fincher’s take on the silent, existential criminal operative — the kind of soulful but unspeaking wraith that you might remember from Le Samouraï or The Driver or Ghost Dog or Drive. But this killer works in the same disinfected gig-economy hellscape as the rest of us, which makes his story less cool and more bleakly funny.