Movie Review: Mr. Brooks

Review: Mr. Brooks Earl Brooks (Kevin Costner) is a pillar of the community in Portland, Oregon: An executive, an entrepreneur, a philanthropist, a family man. Still, he find time for his other interests: Hand-made pottery ... and murder. Mr. Brooks is also The Thumbprint Killer, known for creating crime scenes with the bodies of his victims in posed tableaus that have no evidence left behind. Mr. Brooks is careful -- and a bit regretful: He knows he shouldn't be killing, and discusses it at great length with Marshall (William Hurt), an imaginary friend who's not, in fact, very friendly -- and who simultaneously goads Mr. Brooks to action and cautions him against mistakes. But Mr. Brooks does make a mistake one night, and is approached by the twitchy, conniving Mr. Smith (Dane Cook) soon after. Mr. Smith saw Mr. Brooks kill. He has proof. He knows. And all Smith wants from Brooks in exchange for his silence is to come along and kill with him ... even though one of Portland's top cops, Det. Atwood (Demi Moore) close in pursuit after his most recent efforts. And Mr. Brook's home life changes as his daughter Jane (Danielle Panabaker) comes back to the nest having dropped out of school with some secrets of her own: It's tough having it all. Directed by Bruce A. Evans, Mr. Brooks, in many ways, tries to reclaim the serial killer thriller from the omnipotent, stylish clutches of Hannibal Lecter; Mr. Brooks is clever, and careful, but he makes mistakes; he knows he's crazy, and tries to do something about it. Mr. Brooks repeats the "Serenity Prayer" and goes to AA meetings, where he stands and admits that yes, he's an addict -- even as Marshall hisses in his ear that Earl's not really being honest about what he's addicted to. Costner's never been a terrific actor, but he's always been a presence -- from Silverado to The Guardian -- and Earl Brooks gives him a chance to play two halves of a whole -- the seething homicidal impulses and chill swift actions of a killer comingled with the warm charm of a responsible family man and business leader. Evans's direction is serviceable, with flashes of something more scattered throughout the film; post-murder, Mr. Brooks weaves and wobbles with release; a shootout in a hallway is lit by muzzle flashes, flickerings of kill-or-be-killed in the dark. Evans wrote the screenplay, alongside Raynold Gideon; thriller fans will note some similarities to Jeff Lindsay's Dexter series of novels -- the serial killer as family man, the difficulty (and, occasionally, ease) a sociopath encounters functioning in normal society. Part of me was hoping that Mr. Brooks might have a hint of American Psycho in it -- making a link between Mr. Brooks's work in the boardroom during the bright light day and at the scenes of his crimes under the killing moon -- but we don't get that. What we do get, though -- and this is to Mr. Brooks's credit -- is something many thrillers don't give us: Red herrings, twists and actual surprises. There's a couple plot points in Mr. Brooks that come from unexpected places; there's a few minor devices that come back into play late in the game. Mr. Brooks does expect us to swallow the idea that there are not one but two serial killers at large in Portland -- Moore's cop is also on the trail of an escaped murderer known as "The Hangman" -- but that's minor enough, all things considered. Moore works her way back to the b-list here; she's competent on-screen, and gets a few nice moments of action and comedy (not only is her cop facing killers, but also a radioactively ugly divorce); she's not on screen much -- it's not her movie -- but, in her scenes, she accomplishes what the film needs her to do. Having Cook play a jumpy jerk with a short attention span is not exactly a stretch -- it's what he does in his stand-up -- but he also dials it down when he has to, and handles the mechanical aspects of his role with more skill that you'd expect. Marg Helgenberger plays Mrs. Brooks, and she and Panabaker both round out Costner's home life with warmth and a few surprises. As for Hurt, he's a love-him-or-hate-him actor in a love-him-or-hate-him role -- either you buy Mr. Brooks having a homicidal version of Jiminy Cricket in his head or you don't -- but Hurt and the script find interesting things for Marshall to do, not just prodding and provoking Earl but acting as another analytical and plan-oriented hemisphere of Earl's tortured murderer's mind. Mr. Brooks might just stand out by virtue of being placed against a dim background; recent thrillers like Perfect Stranger, Fracture, Disturbia, Vacancy and more have ranged from 'adequate' to 'disappointing.' Mr. Brooks occasionally reminds us of Manhunter, Seven, The Talented Mr. Ripley, the under-appreciated Copycat and other, better serial thrillers, but it's not so much aping those movies as it is shooting for their level of competence, style and craft in service of a genre it's easy to get wrong. After audiences have suffered years of Hannibal hangover -- with Anthony Hopkins becoming the narrow template for movie serial killers in sequel after sequel -- a nice, decent, all-American psychopath like Mr. Brooks is pretty welcome company for a few fraught and well-crafted hours in the tense and muted darkness of the movie theater.