Mr. Brooks

Going into this one, I was expecting something kind of like an American Psycho/Silence Of the Lambs hybrid; now, this isn't too far from the truth, but it's just a hint of the genre fuck fest Mr. Brooks attempts to be. Kevin "I'm the last Postman on Earth" Costner is the movie's namesake, a charming family man and successful entrepreneur whose favorite past time is NOT baseball, favoring the less popular, but apparently more exhilarating, late night serial killing outings. Oh, and he also likes to make pottery. The glazed kind.

Within the first few minutes, the movie quickly establishes that Costner's character bumps elbows with the best of them, has a family that adores him, and has an imaginary friend that has more on his mind than a nude tea party in the Bluth family attic. After receiving the "Man Of the Year" award [????] Mr. Brooks treats himself and his alter ego, innocently named Marshall, to a double homicide involving a mid-coitus couple and a horny Dane "I once made out with Jessica Alba" Cook, secretly watching the act from his nearby apartment. And we're off!! The rest of the flick is a bit of a mess, as it follows:

1. Dane Cook's attempts to blackmail Costner for a course in Serial Killing 101
2. Mr. Brooks' dodging the long arm of the law, specifically that of the lovely, cradle robbing Demi Moore
3. Demi's nightmare of a divorce and the legal proceedings that follow
4. Mr. Brooks' daughter, who seems to have inherited her father's taste for man blood
5. Meeks, a pissed off killer on the lam seeking revenge on the previously mentioned cradle robber

The movie goes everywhere all the fucking time, and at times it's hard to keep track of why we need to be privy to such inane matters such as the haggling over Demi's divorce settlement or daughter Brooks' struggle with the fact that she's carrying the lovechild of a mystery man she met during a tryst midway through her freshman year. I understand that these subplots need to be there because they tie together all the loose ends, but these devices are so obvious it makes for a clunky, unnecessarily convoluted movie simply about a dude who enjoys killing people for a recreational activity, like fishing or whittling small wood figures that tell the future. The movie transitions awkwardly between moments that examine Coster's inner turmoil concerning his addiction to brutal slayings and other instances involving Demi having a little target practice in seedy motel hallways to The Matrix theme. Mr. Brooks is pretty much like taking Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer, Se7en, and American Psycho, throw them in a pot, add some broth, a potato, and make a nice stew, as per Carl Weathers' specific instructions. Except that it's not a nice stew, but more like a gazpacho [Note: I apologize to anyone who enjoys gazpacho or other cold soups].

I enjoyed the good majority of Mr. Brooks. Although it may not be entirely original, it's a fresh take on the serial killer genre made popular by Natural Born Killers and American Psycho. I would have liked to see Coster take out a few more people, maybe in like a dance club just like Tom Cruise in Collateral, or maybe Dane Cook piss his pants a few more times, but hey, I guess seeing a grown man wet himself once is all you really need. And with that...


1. Is it really that hard to shoot down a hallway?
2. Who's a more charming serial killer: Mr. Brooks or Patrick Bateman?
3. What's the return rate on an investment in a cemetery?
4. What's a better front for a serial killer: investment banker or box maker?