Forgettable Here we have the hitman's hitman, trotting out zen master-like hitman wisdom as we SEE his rigorous self-discipline in action. He's a virtuoso of assassination and let's the viewer into his world of wizard-like dedication to his craft which includes long term extreme concentration, dozens of fake identities complete with credit cards and passports, well stocked storage spaces all over the country filled with weapons, identity kits, and seemingly unlimited access to money.
And yet... the story starts out with him standing in full unimpeded view of dozens of apartments in the building of his mark. Day after day, night after night, he stands in that giant window waiting for his mark to appear across the way. Is he completely visible? Well, everyone else is, so he MUST be. No disguise, no blinds, no curtain, just his standing there with his fully lit face.
What follows are a laughable series of events that are completely incongruous with the supposed mastery our hero has of his craft starting with an absurd cockup and his campaign of revenge against the cleaners sent to tie up the loose end that is himself. Of course the cockup enables the story to exist in the first place, but I don't see AT ALL what motivates his extreme reaction which makes up the bulk of the 2 hour movie.