I believe David Fincher is a magician of the psyche.

He is a director who skillfully unravels the psychology that people unconsciously carry but often overlook, using philosophy as the foundation for his cinematic art.

The common thread in most of the films I highly appreciate is as follows:

“Movies that capture the psychological or emotional states of people—things we unconsciously feel but seldom express, or ideas that are hard for others to pinpoint.”

David Fincher, in particular, seems to express humanity’s unconscious nihilism very well.

Humans are born with the ability to empathize. We tend to feel what others feel, and vice versa. This empathy is the reason why we connect better with fields that deal with human psychology or philosophical concepts than with fields like mathematics or mechanical engineering.

Art, particularly, thrives in this realm.

Going further, movies, music, and other works of art that can reach a wider audience tend to gather more empathy and resonance from the public.

Ultimately, the reputation of a work—whether it’s a movie, music, or any other art—is influenced by how much empathy it gathers:

• Who feels the empathy? (If it’s niche, it’s a subculture; if it’s mainstream, it’s the general public.)
• And how much empathy it generates?

So, does that mean works that only resonate with a small group of fans are inferior? I don’t think so.

Those small groups of enthusiasts can often play a role in creating a viral bridge that brings the work to the masses. Ultimately, the emotions felt by the few can be deeply understood and shared by the many. This is one of the fascinating aspects of human empathy—it spreads like a contagious virus.

I consider myself a fan of David Fincher’s films.

Starting from Fight Club, which I watched a lot growing up, to Gone Girl, Seven, and many others, Fincher’s films often express nihilism rooted in philosophy. They are thought-provoking but never lose the ability to resonate with viewers, avoiding being too theoretical.

Fincher's latest film, The Killer, tells the story of a hitman who seeks perfection in his work.

“Trust no one. That’s the key to success. Always question everything,” he repeatedly tells himself as he carries out his tasks without mistakes. But after one slip-up, his life spirals out of control, and the film explores this theme.

Ultimately, I’m not entirely sure what the film is trying to say. However, the most prominent feeling I had was the comparison between those who are consumed by vanity and those who quietly go about their work without it.

This may be Fincher’s ongoing exploration of nihilism.

In Fight Club, as the world war ends and a peaceful era supposedly begins, the film criticizes the vanity of the capitalist age. The protagonist, Tyler Durden, says:

“We haven’t fought a great war, or had a great depression. Our war is a spiritual one. Our depression is our lives. We were raised on television to believe that we’d be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars. But we won’t. We’re slowly starting to realize that, and it really pisses us off.”

Ultimately, it seems the film argues that while peace may appear to arrive after the end of war, it’s actually an illusion of vanity. People inevitably fall into nihilism and attempt to find true freedom by rejecting the vanity capitalism offers.

What Fincher ultimately wants to say—whether it’s nihilism or the transcendence of nihilism into true freedom—is unclear. However, one thing is common among the protagonists of his films: they often act to transcend the nihilism they experience, transforming it into a form of freedom.

It’s a difficult concept.

There are many scenes where people succumb to the messages conveyed by characters who act with no vanity, in contrast to the satisfaction offered by material wealth or the fake relationships that lead to social recognition.

This same theme is present in The Killer.

The protagonist, a hitman in the capitalist society who chased after success and achieved it, is an embodiment of the competitive world we live in. His job is representative of a society where one mistake can lead to ruin. It’s a job where failure can destroy everything—the kind of job that might symbolize the most competitive aspects of capitalist society.

People in the modern world often believe that one mistake can ruin their lives, and if they fail to succeed, they have failed altogether. This culture, created by the older generation, traps people in a cycle where they fight to survive. But as humans, we have limitations. This mechanized way of life inevitably reaches its breaking point.

A man, representative of this capitalist competitive society, makes a mistake. His routine, built for success, is shattered. He is overwhelmed by a sense of emptiness and negative emotions. The situation is now in direct opposition to the life he led when everything was going well. Those around him won’t forgive his mistake, and he is forced to destroy everything he values, even his own family, as he seeks revenge.

This man, a product of the capitalist system, is ultimately abandoned by the very system he served. He begins to see through the confines of this system and reflects on his life. Eventually, he walks his own path.

The film delivers a message:

He realizes he’s nothing more than a creation of the system.

And peace finally comes.