American Psycho

I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

   The first time I tried to watch this movie, I couldn't finish it.  Surprising, I know.  I think it was mostly because of the scene with the two prostitutes and the coat hanger.  You'll have to use your imagination, because whatever happens isn't actually shown in the movie.  You see the coat hanger, then the prostitutes, bloodied and crying, leaving.  About a year ago I read the original novel American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis.  That book makes this movie look like a kids' show.
   It's about Patrick Bateman (why yes, that is a reference to Norman Bates from Psycho, how clever of you to notice), played by Christian Bale, post- Newsies and pre- Terminator.  Patrick is obsessed with a few things: pop culture, having all the best stuff,  and physical fitness.  Christian Bale wasn't even this physically fit when he played the Dark Knight.  Oh, and he's obsessed with "murders and executions," and he works in mergers and acquisitions.  Although he's extremely wealthy, he never does any work.  His favorite topic to talk about are serial killers.  No one seems to know what he's talking about when he references Ed Gein or Ted Bundy.
   It borders on funny.  Everything about Patrick Bateman is horrible, but he's so over the top.  He moonwalks during murders.  He watches himself posing in the mirror during sex, more interested in his own perfection than the girls he's screwing.  Somehow he manages to slip confessions into conversations, "I like to dissect girls," he tells someone, "Did you know I'm utterly insane?"
   Although set in the eighties, this movie may always be applicable.  There will always be the extremely wealthy, those who believe that no action of theirs will ever have long-term negative consequences.  He and his fellow Wall Street business men do drugs in public bathrooms and hate women.  They all seem to be of the opinion that the only reason for a woman to have a decent personality is because she's physically unattractive.  They spend hundreds of dollars on dinners and trade wives and girlfriends like Pokemon cards.
   Most compelling about American Psycho is the fact that, like in the book, the audience is never quite sure if any of the atrocities Bateman performs ever actually happened outside of his own head, especially when an ATM tells him to feed it a cat.  By the end, he's not even sure.  At one point he shoots a car with a handgun.  The car explodes in a huge, fiery explosion, and Bateman looks at his gun, like "Whaaaaat?" (because despite what action movies want you to believe, that cannot happen).  Utterly insane, American Psycho will seriously make you doubt the sanity of Christian Bale.  Suddenly all those drunken melt downs aren't all that surprising.  Body count: 41 (18 on screen).  American Psycho gets five out of five lines of coke.
   Now if you'll excuse me, I have to return some video tapes.