October 25, 2007
Mr Brooks is a pillar of the community…and a serial killer addicted to murder. With an alter ego egging him on to one more spree, it’s hard to resist. But when his ‘one last kill’ is overseen by a prurient camera-man, blackmail and black deeds follow. And with a canny cop on his case, Mr Brooks tries to keep himself out of jail and his family in the dark. Not easy when his daughter may have inherited some seriously killer genes.
Kevin Costner plays against type as the mild-mannered, ice-cold killer. Brutally slaying a young couple, he vows to give it up. But his inner demon – in the shape of a serpentine William Hurt – doesn’t believe he can, and won’t let him anyway.
Costner’s not the problem with Mr Brooks. Unashamedly aiming for an 18 certificate, it’s a seemingly mature film, shot through with sudden violence, but lacks the psychological depth to which it clearly lays claim.
Demi Moore, however, is a revelation as the world-weary cop. Nailing the nuances of her tough and testy character, Moore steals the show. Or she would if this were a coherent film. Unfortunately, Mr Brooks feels like two movies stitched together – a psychological thriller and a gritty police procedural – which just don’t match up.
Costner’s storyline is icy, talky and meditative, with sudden bouts of violence. But Moore’s engaging cop-plot gives way to sudden bouts of action movie crashiness – cameras swirling, soundtrack blaring.
Aspiring perhaps to the thriller status of Silence of the Lambs, it fails to grip. And while it purports to plumb some psychological depths, its up-close focus on gushing blood and extra-loud bangs means it’s really a slasher film in disguise. Which is a shame, as Costner does great work, and Moore is brilliant.
Perhaps it’s no surprise that Mr Brooks was conceived as a trilogy: the lazy plotting, lacking any cat-and-mouse bite, denies us a Costner and Moore showdown. Saving it up for a potential part two is not enough.
As a movie, Mr Brooks is as dysfunctional and schizophrenic as its title character.
Kevin Costner plays against type as the mild-mannered, ice-cold killer. Brutally slaying a young couple, he vows to give it up. But his inner demon – in the shape of a serpentine William Hurt – doesn’t believe he can, and won’t let him anyway.
Costner’s not the problem with Mr Brooks. Unashamedly aiming for an 18 certificate, it’s a seemingly mature film, shot through with sudden violence, but lacks the psychological depth to which it clearly lays claim.
Demi Moore, however, is a revelation as the world-weary cop. Nailing the nuances of her tough and testy character, Moore steals the show. Or she would if this were a coherent film. Unfortunately, Mr Brooks feels like two movies stitched together – a psychological thriller and a gritty police procedural – which just don’t match up.
Costner’s storyline is icy, talky and meditative, with sudden bouts of violence. But Moore’s engaging cop-plot gives way to sudden bouts of action movie crashiness – cameras swirling, soundtrack blaring.
Aspiring perhaps to the thriller status of Silence of the Lambs, it fails to grip. And while it purports to plumb some psychological depths, its up-close focus on gushing blood and extra-loud bangs means it’s really a slasher film in disguise. Which is a shame, as Costner does great work, and Moore is brilliant.
Perhaps it’s no surprise that Mr Brooks was conceived as a trilogy: the lazy plotting, lacking any cat-and-mouse bite, denies us a Costner and Moore showdown. Saving it up for a potential part two is not enough.
As a movie, Mr Brooks is as dysfunctional and schizophrenic as its title character.