Hola all. Massawyrm here.

God, what a fucking mess. What really pisses me off about a film like this is that I absolutely love half of it. It's a great movie. A great idea. That just gets completely buttfucked by the typical pasteurized and homogenized rules of Hollywood. You see, this movie is utterly crippled by the very same convention that killed a very similar film a few years back titled Murder by Numbers. It's the notion that we as an audience will not accept a bad guy - or in both of these cases serial killers - as a protagonist. We have to have a good guy to root for. And it's bullshit.

While there is a lot of truth to the idea that you can't really tell a story entirely with unlikable characters, there is a big gap in what we as an audience will consider unlikable. For example, while we may not like a particular character – in this case Kevin Costner's Mr. Brooks – we certainly can find ourselves positively fascinated by him. And that fascination can lead us to embrace this protagonist in ways we're probably not supposed to. It can allow us to in some way, shape or form identify, and later even root for him. Even when we shouldn't. As is the case with Mr. Brooks.

Mr. Brooks is evil. He's a serial killer. In fact, he's not just A serial killer, he's THE serial killer. He is the famed suspect zero. The guy so good he will never be caught. He's incredibly intelligent, sociable and completely successful in all his endeavors, whether they be business, family or notoriety. But he's an addict and he knows it. He is compelled to kill despite wanting to quit. And he spends a lot of time having an inner monologue with the devil inside him, played by a creepy and wonderfully enthralling William Hurt. In what could easily be a trite bit of contrivance, you get quickly roped into some deliciously sinister conversations between the two, representing the inner struggle and thought processes of Costner's Mr. Brooks. And what particularly works is that they never hint or discuss whether Hurt is simply some kind of hallucination or just the representation of his damaged Id.

EVERYTHING between Costner and Hurt is solid gold. I loved it. They actually have this amazing chemistry onscreen together that makes these scenes just pop. Every time Hurt showed up the movie was worth every painfully bad moment I had to suffer through without him. Not only is the concept of a killer trying to quit in the same way an alcoholic or a smoker might try to fight off their cravings interesting, but the killer having other worries, including that his daughter might be suffering from his very same illness, offers you something extraordinarily unique. Even Dane Cook, who I've never particularly been a big fan of, delivers a wonderful performance as the guy who discovers Brooks' secret and rather than trying to turn him in, tries to learn how to get the sick thrills Mr. Brooks enjoys.

The problem is that Demi Moore keeps showing up. Now I've no problem at all with Moore or her performance. It's her character. The prototypical, clichéd cop on the edge trying to capture the elusive serial killer while dealing with her own baggage. YAWN. And if it were just boring, that might be fine. I might just hate her character but like the movie. Unfortunately everything that completely sucks about this film comes from her story – up to and including the fact that this movie actually gets one serial killer too heavy and just becomes fucking silly. Every bad story element, every overdone moment. It's all hers. Hell, it even takes the lame, unbelievably asinine supernatural cop gut instinct to even keep her remotely involved in the story. I'd say that this was the product of lazy writing, but it's worse than that.

Her character wasn't originally intended for this film. It's plain as day. This cop was shoehorned in when the writer or writers were told that they weren't allowed to make a movie in which a serial killer was the protagonist, and was written just well enough to make it seem like she belonged. But she doesn't. In fact, I'm convinced that you could edit her character out entirely and make a really badass hour long film. You might even be able to make a feature out of it if there are some cool scenes left on the cutting room floor. Moore's cop is so superfluous that I honestly, without exaggeration, believe it could be done. There is just too much of this movie that doesn't involve her in the slightest. And what does wouldn't feel out of place if she were removed.

No, this story is about Mr. Brooks. Mr, Brooks interacting with Dane Cook's Mr. Smith. Mr. Brooks interacting with his daughter while trying to avoid his family discovering his secret. And most importantly, Mr. Brooks interacting with the William Hurt he keeps locked inside of himself. That movie is pretty freaking good. But it is interrupted so often by a terrible attempt to give the audience someone to root for that it sinks the entire experience. In its current form it is relatively unwatchable, a roller coaster of very cool scenes bookended with moments of soul crushing banality. And it just pisses me off. This should have been something new, different and daring. Instead, what could have been becomes what's already been. And I can't recommend this film at all.

Maybe, just maybe, if you're a big serial killer buff and you also have the capability to ignore whole chunks of something that is prone to suck the hairs right off of your sack - then maybe, just maybe, you could catch this at a matinee or rent it and not hate yourself for doing so. While watching Hurt and Costner do their back and forth is so goddamned worthwhile for a film lover, it doesn't do enough to make this worth recommending otherwise.

Until next time friends, smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.

Massawyrm

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