Slightly unnervingly (though perhaps not coincidentally), throughout his career acclaimed director David Fincher has most often been compared to the same subject that he’s been most fixated on bringing to the big screen: a serial killer.

Looking at his decades-spanning filmography, this might be an uncomfortably easy comparison to make. Fetishistically-minded projects like 1995’s Se7en, 2007’s Zodiac, and 2017’s Netflix series Mindhunter all spotlight sadistically methodical madmen mutilating their victims.

Moreover, even subject matter aside, Fincher’s reported on-set work ethic is also understood to be nothing short of punishing, infamously requiring hundreds of takes from his actors. And then, of course, his distinctly recognizable visual style–chillingly composed shots striving for aesthetic perfection–also betrays his perverse goal for total control.

All of this leads to his new film, succinctly titled, The Killer. Which is once again, about a cold-blooded murderer. None of which, at this point in his career, is surprising. What is surprising, however, is how damn funny it is.

The Killer follows a contracted hitman (simply billed as “The Killer,” played by Michael Fassbender). Solitarily observing Parisian street life from an abandoned building’s floor (an ode to Hitchcockian voyeurism), we not only see him cynically witnessing capitalistic society from up on high but also hearing his thoughts by way of a long-running inner monologue. He’s clearly waiting for something–someone–and passes the time doing light yoga, listening to his Smiths-filled iPod (which becomes a hilarious long-running joke), and monitoring his FitBit heart monitor.

He’s perfectly cool and calculated, up to the point where he has to engage his target. Unexpectedly–and hilariously–the hit does not go according to plan, setting off a series of events that flips his methodically precise world upside-down, and making him the next target.

If you’re waiting for where the aforementioned humor lies in all of this, it’s in all of these misfires. Fincher plays the game of “expectation versus reality” with total gallows-style humor, making for a sadistically funny film that follows. Based on the graphic novel of the same name, The Killer is adapted by Andrew Kevin Walker, who filters the dark events of a hitman on the run through a dry, darkly funny sensibility.

Chaptered by different characters that The Killer must visit in order to flee to safety (as well as ensure the safety of loved ones), the film has fun seeing The Killer’s numerous identities, and travels to international locations, all in the pursuit of settling his score.

Michael Fassbender is absolutely perfect in the lead role, bringing a steady, unnerving energy to his character, while also playing the dark humor just right, too. He’s great in the physical part of the role, in which his robotic-like physicality lends itself to a crazy action scene that will definitely impress viewers. Fincher’s methodically funny plant-and-payoffs are exacted hilariously, proving they are a match made in hitman heaven.

The Killer is not David Fincher’s best film. But it also doesn’t feel like it really sets out to be. Perhaps he’s aware of the film’s “B-level” storyline and aware of its simple construction and ambition. Knowing its final viewing place is to be seen in homes (on Netflix), maybe that also brings a more “minor” quality to the film (watching it made me think about current-era Soderbergh films, which have also felt like works churned out for streaming platforms, of late). But to those ends, The Killer is still an edgy, depraved, and hilariously funny movie that will still surprise Fincher’s faithful fans.