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Check out my buddy Paul's blog over at www.theofficialswbt.com. He never updates, but it's fun to read.Also check out The Modern Day Caveman blog. Lot's of funny stuff, sports and movies. 

Please Kill Me Now, Mr. Brooks

I’ve never been a fan of Kevin Costner. Honestly, I can’t recall watching many K.C. movies. “Wyate Erp” comes to mind, but other than that I’ve just never cared for the man, not that I wish the man any ill will or anything, I’m just not a big fan. 

So, when I heard that he was staring in a serial killer movie I had the following conversation with myself:

“Self?” I said.

 

“Yes, dear?” I replied, to myself.

“What do you think about a Kevin Costner serial killer movie?”

 

“Meh...”

“OK, well, Demi Moore is in it.”

“I love nothing more then a fourty-five year old has-been.”

“And uhh...errm.. That fellow from Waiting is in it, too.”

“Oh I love Justin Long, he’s so funny as the Mac in those little commercials, and his little hoodies are just so adora..”

 

“No, Dane Cook.”

“...”

That’s how it ended. I didn’t talk to myself for over three days, but eventually, the memory of “Mr. Brooks” faded from my mind, until my brother-in-law brought this wonderful (hint: sarcasm) movie back to our attention.

“Mr. Brooks” is a psychological thriller movie about a rich business man who is addicted to pottery. And gruesome murders.

After being clean and sober for two years, Mr. Brooks, also known as “The Thumbprint Killer” is convinced by his inner demon, Marshall (played by William Hurt) to kill a couple they have been stalking weeks. You see, Brooks is crafty like that, he’s a pro and he doesn’t just kill willy-nilly, no sir. He plans out his murders after days of research on his victims.

After killing the sexy dance couple, Mr. Earl Brooks, goes back to AA, where he goes on to stand up and announce “My Name is Earl.”

Seriously, he said that. That’s the best part of the movie.

Mr. Brooks, who is now feeling quite happy and content with his murder-free life, is visited by his daughter who has dropped out of college unexpectedly, and it just so happens that on the very same day he is visited by the wonderfully talented, always funny and most certainly never obnoxious, Dane Cook.

Mr. Smith (Cook) has an interesting proposition for dear old Brooks. It turns out that Smith is a pervert, a modern day peeping tom and was quite fond of taking pictures of the sexy dance couple that he would use for his own enjoyment and who happens to show up in one of his pictures? Earl in a menage-a-trois of sorts. 

Mr Smith shows up at Brooks’ office with and envelope containg photographs of Brooks caught in the act. Smith demands that Brooks take him on a murder or else he’ll expose him to the police.

I’m not going to give away any more of the movie. It’s quite predictable and honestly quite boring, Kevin Costner’s performance almost borderlines on just cheesy. William Hurt does a good job as the inner demon, and his inclusion in the movie is something that was needed in order for the film to work. Without him the movie would have fallen flat on its face and totally ridiculous.  

The movie also includes a subplot involving Demi Moore searching for The Thumbprint
Killer, Meeks a fugitive she had previously apprehended who has now escaped, and a divorce from her conniving husband who is trying to arrange an out of court settlement for a very large sum of money. However, none of these plot points do anything to make the film any better, t
hey only add to what is an already long and boring movie.

There’s also this sub-subplot involving Brooks daughter and her reasons for leaving college, but you know what, it doesn’t make a difference -- the movie is still garbage.

So, do I recommend this horrible pile of dog turds? No.

 

But at least it's not "I Know Who Killed Me". 

 

Thank God I live in California.

I know we have some weird looking people out here in California, but thank the Lord I don't have to look at people like this!My favorite is the Orange Twins, such class. I wonder if they had to pay extra for the orange smears on their rented tuxedos?