For anyone who thought David Fincher’s last film, Mank, was the beginning of a new highbrow phase for the director, his latest offering will be something of a jolt. Whereas Mank – on the writing of Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane – was a sumptuous, substantial, awards-friendly hymn to old Hollywood (it was nominated for 10 Oscars and won two), his new film, The Killer, is a pulpy, violent, almost wilfully two-dimensional hitman thriller adapted from a comic book. “I will never be a more mature film-maker. I will carry the 12-year-old me with me wherever I go,” he says proudly.
Rather than growing up, it looks like Fincher is having fun – albeit in a highly controlled, Fincheresque way. He is in a particularly relaxed mode when we meet at a hotel in London. He looks healthy and he is full of wit and energy, almost as if this isn’t the umpteenth interview he has done in his 40-year career.
