If ever a hitman is assigned to knock me off, I hope he has more personality and zest for life than Michael Fassbender’s character in “The Killer.” Narcissistically, I would like to think that the person tasked with killing me would be a charming man or woman and that somehow my life’s value would gain in stature in proportion to my assassin’s allure. With any luck, the hired gun would also miss, leaving me not only glamorous by association but still alive as well.

A missed mark is exactly what happens at the start of the new film, which is currently playing in select theaters at the New York area and premieres next Friday, November 10, on Netflix. The killer, who has many aliases but whose real name we never find out, attempts to shoot a middle-aged man from a building across the street, but instead hits a dominatrix whom the man has invited back to his Parisian penthouse apartment.

We know nothing of the intended victim, nor his formidable lady friend, as the killer informs us that he doesn’t care to know anything about his target. Indeed, in the opening sequence before he makes his attempt, our antihero drones on via voiceover about everything from worldwide population numbers to how “weakness is vulnerability.” He even goes to McDonald’s to ensure he has enough protein in his body for the job, and yet he’s in a city well-known for its steak saignant and tartare! 

Between blandly negative truisms and pseudo-inspirational sayings, Mr. Fassbender’s “killer” doesn’t make for a compelling character during this first segment, with the next sequence in the Dominican Republic just as flat despite his girlfriend nearly dying as payback for his botched job. From this point on, the movie, with a third-rate script based on a French comic book, follows the well-worn trajectory of the revenge story.

We’ve seen it all before, and yet we hope a twist or two might arrive to make the rudimentary plot worthwhile. In the end, the movie’s climax may be deemed unexpected, as it is logically ludicrous and deflatedly perverse, yet modest pleasures do surface along the way, such as when Tilda Swinton appears.

Ms. Swinton also plays a professional plugger, and, in her one big scene, she emits charisma to spare that one wishes the filmmakers had decided to have her teach Mr. Fassbender’s character a thing or two about rationalizing and still enjoying the finer things in life. The use of music listened to by the killer delights as well, with classic songs by The Smiths, such as “Girlfriend in a Coma,” providing mordant commentary on our protagonist’s actions and thoughts.

These songs provide more chuckles than our killer’s occasional attempt at a joke or ironic social commentary. The editing and lumination effects are further thrills, creating a steady rhythm and seductive sheen throughout and allowing one to enjoy the movie from a purely aesthetic point of view. 

I believe I won’t be the only one saying this, but director David Fincher displays the same efficient, meticulous, almost soulless approach to filmmaking that his titular character does toward murder. Prior works like “A Social Network” and “Zodiac” have been described in much the same way.

Some of his films have escaped the imputation; a certain melancholy and faint heartbeat can be found in “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” and “Gone Girl,” demonstrating the director is more than just sharp cutting and good lighting. And his last movie, “Mank,” was almost personal with its script written by his late father.

Unfortunately, “The Killer” fails to convey any emotion or atmosphere beyond existential annoyance and a very mild anguish. Mr. Fassbender’s character even escapes major injury after a fight sequence in Florida that would have left most humans incapacitated and regretful of their life choices.

Not only does his killer lack a personality, but he also seems to be impervious to long-lasting physical pain. Maybe it’s the character’s pessimism that makes him immune to frailty. Or maybe it’s Hollywood’s cynical recycling of motifs and storylines that keeps getting movies like “The Killer” made over and over again.