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Costner Shines in Mr. Brooks

by Citizen Critic | Jun 18, 2007 11:01 am

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Posted to: Arts

flicks_review2-1_04.jpgBy Thomas Lalli
Rating: Three stars
Playing at: Criterion Cinemas

Kevin Costner’ss title character in the current thriller Mr. Brooks is Costner’s greatest hits: he’s got the wealth of Costner in Rumor Has It, the marksmanship of
his Open Range gunman, and the follow-your-instincts code of Field of Dreams.  He even makes pottery, a possible link to Dances With Wolves.  And, he’s got a trait none of those can match, being a serial killer of young lovers.

All of this might seem tough to swallow, but having coherent characters isn’t
where Mr. Brooks’ heart lies.  Though primarily a thriller, the film also makes healthy stabs in the direction of black comedy: it proposes that successful baby boomers have lives so jam-packed—with spouse (Marg Helgenberger plays Emma), family (they have a troubled daughter), career (Earl Brooks is a box magnate), and hobbies (the aforementioned pottery)—that one practically has to be a serial killer to distinguish oneself.
      That’s a slim gag to center a movie on, but the film manages to be entertaining anyway, thanks to a game cast working with a sharp script that balances its dark wit with some shocking violence.  Shocking, at least, to those of Costner’s generation.  Their children probably belong in the next theater, watching a saw cut into turistas in a hostel somewhere.
      Mr. Brooks features not just 1 or 2 but 4, count ‘em 4, serial killers (admittedly, a couple of them are just starting out), and that’s not counting Earl’s imaginary-but-visible-to-us friend, played by William Hurt in a humorous performance.  If this crowd doesn’t convince you we’re nearing the end of the cycle begun by 1986’s Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, nothing will.
Comic Dane Cook represents younger audience members, or perhaps just the screenwriters, playing a wannabe called, for convenience, “Mr. Smith.”  And poor Costner, who just wants to mind his own business and kill people, must also deal with competition in the old-school form of the Hangman Killer, another target of detective Demi Moore.
      Moore’s performance is being criticized, but this was never going to be her movie.  Her character is just there to make serial killing seem vaguely illegal, and not just a self-destructive character trait like alcoholism (Brooks attends AA), or vampirism.  When college-age Jane Brooks starts to look like a chip off the old block, it’s an absurd plot twist, but it doesn’t hurt the movie at all. We’re in a postmodern context in which any audience member can see that text is subtext, and murder is just a metaphor for any hereditary curse.
      Mr. Brooks manages a fair degree of suspense alongside its wit, although the direction by Bruce A Evans (also co-writer) is almost too deadpan: more horror-movie styling might have made the film less arch.  Still, it’s a respectable effort that shows there’s still at least a little life left in the serial killer format.  Perhaps the last star to exploit the subgenre should turn off the lights.

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