The rise, fall and very subtle resurrection of Michael Fassbender is one of Hollywood’s most curious modern mysteries. A fearless performer, two-time Oscar nominee and auteur magnet, then the star of some of the very worst films you saw in 2016 and 2017, Fassbender had a movie career that burnt bright, fizzled fast, and defied simple explanation. 12 Years a Slave. Shame. Steve Jobs. The Snowman? Less perplexing was the allure he had as a name-above-the-title film star: grit, danger, charisma; the scrappy, scruffy Irish roguishness that formed the blueprint for our present-day Mescals and Keoghans. Then, as if a trapdoor had opened up beneath him, he seemed to vanish without a trace.