Mr Brooks (2007)

Written by Nick Da Costa | Saturday, April 5, 2008 |

Mr Brooks, a title that conjures up fond memories of Capra, and his clever films of societal change and the role of the individual. Kevin Costner, as Mr Brooks matches this, all buttoned up, bow tied and resolutely American, however, what lies beneath this avuncular, family man veneer is firstly, not what it seems, and secondly, in terms of a movie, not very good.

Discussing these kinds of films you usually have to be careful with spoilers. Fortunately the filmmakers take the one vaguely interesting concept; an ostensibly moral, ‘Man of the Year’, gradually revealing himself to be a calculating mass murderer, and decides to do away with the subtlety in the opening five minutes. What we’re left with is a lot of empty space where a film needs to be, and where a carefully plotted, possibly artistic piece of movie making could have been.

There is a sense that at least a foundation was laid for such a film, the direction at times subtle, almost clinical in its portrayal of a man who is simply addicted to murder, paying strict attention to every detail of his crimes from the stakeout to execution and finally cleanup. Costner himself copes well with the slight shifts between father and a maniac in the same vein as Brian Cox’s Lecktor in Manhunter; he’s psychotic, but with a strange normalcy that draws you in. There’s also entertainment to be had in the rapport he shares with his well defined split personality (John Hurt), a personification of all the primacy that bubbles beneath Brook’s surface, though this does lead to a problem in that Hurt’s performance at times overshadows Costner’s.

Unfortunately these plaudits aside the same empty plot vacuum still needs to be filled and in this case it’s with layer upon smothering layer of almost absurd soap opera melodramatics. We’re introduced to a Paparazzi pervert understudy for Brooks (Dane Cook); Demi Moore’s doggedly pursuing cop with her Daddy issues and the ex who she basically paid to screw about behind her back and Brook’s daughter with the same homicidal tendencies as her father. In fact by the overwrought climax there’s so much faux psychology, cheap scares, and horror cliché depth plumbing going on that the film loses its focus and in the process does a disservice to some interesting central performances and material with serious potential. It’s arguably one of the clearest recent examples of Hollywood not having a clue.

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