Through no real fault of his own, Michael Fassbender’s past decade hasn’t exactly been stellar. His standout performances in Steve McQueen’s Shame (2011) and 12 Years a Slave (2013) came close to making him a household name. That is, until he was unable to save a trilogy of lackluster misses in 2016 with X-Men: Apocalypse, The Snowman and the video-game adaptation no one asked for, Assassin’s Creed.

It’s enough to make anyone to step away from the limelight, become a Formula One racer, return for an abysmal X-Men sequel in 2019 before finally driving a Porsche into the sunset. So what could possibly bring Fassbender back into the cinematic fold? A lack of championships — and maybe a lead role in David Fincher’s most cerebral film yet, The Killer.

Fassbender plays a high-dollar hitman with a set of aliases for every country. He’s got his routine down to a science, but still, killin’ ain’t easy. After a rare botch in Paris, the assassin books it back to his secluded mansion in the Dominican Republic. He finds his girlfriend near death, the victim of a beating intended for him. Telling himself it’s strictly business, the killer goes on an international spree hunting down everyone involved — including his employer.

The Killer doesn’t quite reach the heights of Fincher’s best work (Seven, Zodiac), but that’s hardly a slight. Though the cold-blooded protagonist isn’t terribly relatable, his on-the-job frustrations scratch close to the same itch as Office Space’s first act. Weirdly, however, the revenge plot does little to endear the character. Of course, that’s not vital, but it raises some emotional hurdles that the film never really dodges.

Even so, fans of the opening scene from Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive will appreciate this feature-length equivalent. Plus, the would-be insufferable voiceover narration shines thanks to a clever, intimate and misanthropic monologue. And where there’s Fincher, there’s masterful sound editing. Capping off the nihilistic voyage is an ideal score from the filmmaker’s frequent collaborators Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross — with a welcome sprinkling of The Smiths for good measure.

The film also excels with a rawness that escapes most blockbuster action choreography. It only has one fistfight, but it captures a visceral, desperate exchange where every blow clearly weighs on Fassbender’s character. It takes the house fight in the second season of HBO’s Barry up a few notches, without protecting the protagonist with some unrealistic invulnerability. He can’t shed the scars, and the hitman bears the bruises of the encounter until the credits roll.

The sum of The Killer’s parts doesn’t equal its whole, but it still mostly satisfies where it counts. No, you won’t find a relatable lead or a very satisfying conclusion. But if you’re in it for gunplay, beautiful brutality and sociopathic musings, this flick finds its target. —Daniel Bokemper