I have no idea why director John Woo decided to remake his own hard-boiled classic The Killer, and I especially don’t know why he traded in its gritty noir vibes for the kind of cheap-looking, ultra-glossy aesthetic you find almost exclusively on straight-to-streaming releases. But he did, and here we are, with a plethora of soullessly recreated Woo-isms. You want doves, cathedrals, and gunfights? They’re all here, but they’re done in the sort of superficial “style” that recalls drinking Purple Drink out of Tiffany crystal and calling it “classy.” Woo’s heyday is something to remember, but he clearly doesn’t have it anymore. This is barely serviceable.