Susan Granger’s review of “Mr. Brooks” (M.G.M.)
It’s easy to understand why Oscar-winning actor/producer/director Kevin Costner decided to change his image by playing a schizophrenic serial killer who dutifully attends AA meetings as “an addict” and engages in imaginary conversations with his creepy, caustic alter ego (William Hurt) as he struggles to control his impulses.
While he’s a successful businessman/philanthropist – Portland, Oregon’s Man of the Year – Earl Brooks has a secret. He’s dutiful to his wife (Marg Helenberger) and a doting father to his rebellious daughter (Danielle Penabaker) but – late at night – he sneaks out to feed his lurid fantasies.
While Costner once ruled the summer with “Field of Dreams” and “Bull Durham” and won Oscars for “Dances With Wolves,” he’s also suffered setbacks with “Waterworld” and “The Postman.” But he’s always been a risk-taker and Mr. Brooks is a blood-thirsty psycho, no doubt about it.
The story begins with great promise, delineating his character and introducing a disturbed peeping-Tom (Dane Cook) who photographs Mr. Brooks as he slaughters a young couple in their bed. The twist is that he won’t go to the police with his incriminating evidence if Mr. Brooks will take him along on his next “outing.”
Hot on their trail is a tough detective (Demi Moore) who’s in the midst of a nasty divorce and being pursued by a vengeful escaped convict (Matt Schulze) determined to kill her. Too bad he doesn’t because Moore is so plasticized that she’s almost as detestable as her prey.
Writer/director Bruce A. Evans and co-writer Raymond Gideon suffer from a plethora of coincidences and contrivances, including making Moore a multimillionaire and introducing a startling genetic concept. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, “Mr. Brooks” is a violent, implausible 6. It’s Costner’s dark field of screams.
