Mr. Brooks - C

In Theatres. 120 Minutes. Rated R

Kevin Costner as a serial killer. Never thought I'd see that movie. That said, Costner in the title role is the best thing about this odd installment in an increasingly bloated genre. Mr. Brooks is the story of Earl Brooks, Man-of-the-Year, devoted father and husband, business owner, potter, and serial killer. Brooks' id is personified as a man named "Marshall", played by William Hurt. Brooks and Marshall speak back and forth, but no one hears (or sees) but the audience. Brooks likes to kill people, although he is trying to quit via prayer and AA (he identifies as an addict). He is spotted in one killing, and the witness blackmails him with incriminating pictures into taking him along on the next kill. Meanwhile, Demi Moore plays Detective Tracy Atwood, an about-to-be-divorced cop who's hot on his trail. Surprise, Costner begins to respect Demi even as he fears her. Marg Helgenberger (CSI) plays Mrs. Brooks adequately, and Danielle Panabaker plays his college-age daughter who has a few secrets of her own.

All the actors do a pretty good job, but the script quickly adds too many subplots and too many serial killers. But most troubling, the film seems to indicate that serial killing is like your hair-color. It's how you're born. If we allow our society to buy into this biological determinism (the door of which has been pryed open in the "source of homosexual behavior" debate), we will quickly spiral into a moral freefall, much as this film does. It wants to be taken seriously, but it's ultimately vacuous and empty C.