John Woo murders one of his most iconic films

Hollywood studios have long been eyeing a remake of The Killer, John Woo’s 1989 action classic that pits a principled hitman against a disillusioned detective. And after 30 years of ups and downs – with directors like Walter Hill and John J. Lee and stars like Richard Gere and Denzel Washington in mind – it turns out that Woo himself was the only filmmaker who could make the project happen. That should be a good sign, but the Hong Kong director’s cinematic decline has been very noticeable of late. His latest Hollywood comeback, silent Nightcouldn’t sustain its dialogue-free action gag and was completely swallowed by its concept. His second version of The Killer suffers similarly, as a film without momentum or soul, difficult to digest on its own, and impossible to endure as an empty repetition of a work so iconic and exciting.

The new version of The Killer follows the tête-à-tête between loner Zee (Nathalie Emmanuel in the role of Chow Yun-fat) and rule-breaking Parisian cop Sey (Omar Sy, reprising his role in the dynamic of Danny Lee). The series shares broad similarities with the original, such as their respective killers accidentally blinding a club singer during a mission — Sally Yeh’s Jennie in the first film, Diana Silvers’ Jenn here — but that’s where their similarities end. Woo’s original script plagued Chow’s killer character with a duel of guilt and love for Jennie, while Lee’s cop was fascinated by the former’s complex morality, but the remake (written by Brian Helgeland, Josh Campbell and Matt Stuecken) evades that without plotting an alternative path. Zee feels sorry for Jenn and claims to see her younger self in the deluded artist, but she spends far more screen time with her Irish handler Finn (Sam Worthington) – although, like everyone else in the film, they act as if they have no real history together. Yet Zee’s dilemmas never really come to light, despite Emmanuel’s best efforts. She asks “Do they deserve this death?” whenever she’s given an assignment, but her high-flown words are rarely accompanied by the dramatic impact needed when she decides to pull the trigger.

During the remake’s development, numerous gender-swapped versions of the killer were suggested: Michelle Yeoh’s name was floated at one point, and Lupita Nyong’o was even cast when Woo first came on board. game of Thrones And Fast & Furious The experienced Emmanuel may not have the same appeal as the stars mentioned above, but she more than holds her own as Zee, a stylish assassin who hides a clear sense of loneliness behind her weary eyes. Unfortunately, she can’t give the character much more than the vague notion of isolation that the script conveys, which only seems to manifest itself through a diet of takeaway food. Sy, meanwhile, brings the charm of his lupine Performance by Sey, a fiery French detective who isn’t afraid to break the law when necessary – even though his superiors have rules about who he is and who isn’t allowed to be touched. The plot involves royal entanglements and corrupt supporting characters, though few of them have anything resembling a serious relationship with Sey or Zee.

The latent homoeroticism between Chow and Lee is obviously no longer an issue in the remake, but neither do Emmanuel and Sy get the chance to create an entertaining or meaningful dynamic. There’s no sexual tension between Zee and Sy, or even professional and platonic respect, and if one gets the sense that either recognizes the other’s moral code (or that either even has one), it’s because the characters express it in words rather than showing it through actions. Granted, some of the film’s exposition flows smoothly, at least thanks to the use of split screen for flashbacks to robberies and other criminal activity, but in the presence of The Killer, little of that sense of energy or momentum has any.

Even without comparisons to its revered predecessor, this is a direct-to-stream action flop. Its strange Parisian Piss filter creates an ugly, bordering on the foul-mouthed hue that makes even the most stylized moments seem off-kilter. It seems like The Killer is coming to life when Zee sets off on an early mission in a crowded, neon-lit dance lounge, but that promise, in the style of more modern Hollywood action, falls short: That claustrophobic vision of John Wick’s underworld gives way to a private, spacious space where the action plays out cleanly and from a distance. Emmanuel gets a fair amount of slick choreography, but any impact Zee might have made is masked by awkward silence. Scenes aren’t edited tightly or quickly enough to feel emotive, let alone thrilling.

Woo has proven himself more than capable of working in (and even changing) Hollywood’s sandbox. For all their faults, Face/Off and Mission: Impossible 2 are hyper-stylized films whose slow-motion bullets and bloodshed set the bar for what was possible in American action. Now, his work in Hollywood seems like pale imitations by directors who grew up not with Woo, but with his worst impersonators. Nothing resonates, physically or emotionally. Even his trademark church setting (with the obligatory doves) is stripped of its thematic significance. In films like the original Killer, these appear as symbols of remorse, at a time when the titular assassin is wracked with guilt. In the remake, Woo’s “direction” simply appears over familiar imagery—as if it were a cameo in a Marvel movie—without the same meaning or spiritual implications. There’s nothing beneath the surface of Woo’s remake of The Killer, and that surface is neither entertaining nor interesting to watch anyway.