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American Psycho (film)

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There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone; in fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis. My punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing.
You like Huey Lewis and the News?
There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman. Some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me. Only an entity. Something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.
I have to return some videotapes.
I have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, 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.

American Psycho is a 2000 film about a young, well-to-do man who isn't quite as normal as he seems and secretly is a serial killer.

Directed by Mary Harron. Written by Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner, based on the novel by Bret Easton Ellis.
Killer looks. taglines

Patrick Bateman

[edit]
  • [repeated line] I have to return some videotapes.
  • "BLEACH-EE"? You trying to say "Bleach-ee"? Bleach-ee, oh my god. Two things. One: You can't bleach a Cerruti. Out of the question. Two: I can only get these sheets in Santa Fe and these are very expensive sheets and I need them clean by this afternoon!
  • If you don't shut your fucking mouth, I will kill you.
  • Listen, I CANNOT UNDERSTAND YOU! This is crazy! You're a fool, I can't cope with this STUPID BITCH-EE! UNDERSTAND?!
  • I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane?
  • Look at that subtle off-white coloring; the tasteful thickness of it... Oh my God, it even has a watermark.
  • [to a bartender, who doesn't seem to notice] You're a fucking ugly bitch. I want to stab you to death and play around with your blood.
  • I live in the American Gardens Building on West 81st Street on the 11th floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself, and a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial masque which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion. There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman. Some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me. Only an entity. Something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.
  • I have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, 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.
  • There is a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Paul's apartment overlooks the park... and is obviously more expensive than mine.
  • I'm on the verge of tears by the time we arrive at Espace, since I'm positive we won't have a decent table, but we do. The relief washes over me in an awesome wave.
  • [to two prostitutes] Do you like Phil Collins? I've been a big Genesis fan ever since the release of their 1980 album, Duke. Before that, I really didn't understand any of their work. Too artsy, too intellectual. It was on Duke where, uh, Phil Collins' presence became more apparent. I think Invisible Touch was the group's undisputed masterpiece. It's an epic meditation on intangibility. At the same time, it deepens and enriches the meaning of the preceding three albums. Christy, take off your robe. Listen to the brilliant ensemble playing of Banks, Collins and Rutherford. You can practically hear every nuance of every instrument. Sabrina, remove your dress. In terms of lyrical craftsmanship, the sheer songwriting, this album hits a new peak of professionalism. Sabrina, why don't you, uh, dance a little. Take the lyrics to "Land of Confusion". In this song, Phil Collins addresses the problems of abusive political authority. "In Too Deep" is the most moving pop song of the 1980s, about monogamy and commitment. The song is extremely uplifting. Their lyrics are as positive and affirmative as, uh, anything I've heard in rock. Christy, get down on your knees so Sabrina can see your asshole. Phil Collins' solo career seems to be more commercial and therefore more satisfying, in a narrower way. Especially songs like "In the Air Tonight" and, uh, "Against All Odds". Sabrina, don't just stare at it, eat it. But I also think Phil Collins works best within the confines of the group, than as a solo artist, and I stress the word artist. This is "Sussudio", a great, great song, a personal favorite.
  • Howard! It's Bateman, Patrick Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know I've killed a lot of people. Some escort girls in an apartment uptown... uh... some homeless people maybe five or ten. Uh... Some NYU girl I met in Central Park, I left her in a parking lot behind some donut shop, I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nailgun and... some man, some old faggot with a dog. Last week I killed another girl... with a chainsaw... I had to, she almost got away. And there... was someone else there I don't remember, maybe a model, but sh- she's dead, too. And, uh- PAUL ALLEN! I killed Paul Allen with an axe! In the face! His body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen! I don't want to leave anything out here — I guess I've killed maybe... 20 people... maybe 40! Uh- huh huh-I have uh... tapes of a lot of it. Some of the girls have seen the tapes — I even... I ate some of their brains and I tried to cook a little. Tonight, I uh- just had to kill a lot of people! And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it... this time. I mean... I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So, if you get back tomorrow, I may show up at Harry's Bar. So, you know, keep your eyes OPEN. Okay, bye.
  • There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone; in fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis. My punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing.
  • Well, you can always be thinner... look better.

Dialogue

[edit]
Bateman: New card. What do you think?
McDermott: Whoa-ho, very nice. Look at that.
Bateman: Picked them up from the printer's yesterday.
Van Patten: Good coloring.
Bateman: That's "Bone". And the lettering is something called "Silian Rail".
Van Patten: It's very cool, Bateman... but that's nothing. Look at this.
(Van Patten removes his card from its holder)
Bryce: That is really nice.
Van Patten: "Eggshell", with "Romalian" type. What do you think?
Bateman: [beat] Nice.
Bryce: Jesus. That is really super. How'd a nitwit like you get so tasteful?
Bateman: [internal monologue] I can't believe that Bryce prefers Van Patten's card to mine.
Bryce: But wait, you ain't seen nothing yet.
(Bryce removes his card from its holder)
Bryce: Raised lettering, "Pale Nimbus". White.
Bateman: Impressive. Very nice. [beat] Let's see Paul Allen's card.
(Bryce nervously reveals Paul Allen's card)
Bateman: [internal monologue] Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God... it even has a watermark.
(Bateman seethes)
Carruthers: Something wrong? Patrick? You're sweating.
McDermott: If they have a great personality and they're not great looking... then who fucking cares?
Bateman: Well, let's just say hypothetically, OK? What if they have a great personality?
[pause, all laugh]
Bateman: I know, I know. [in unison with the rest] There are no girls with good personalities.
Van Patten: A good personality consists of a chick with a little hard body, who will satisfy all sexual demands without being too slutty about things, and who essentially will keep her dumb fucking mouth shut.
McDermott: The only girls with good personalities who are smart or maybe funny or halfway intelligent or talented, though god knows what the fuck that means, are ugly chicks.
Van Patten: Absolutely.
McDermott: And this is because they have to make up for how fucking unattractive they are.
Bateman: Do you know what Ed Gein said about women?
Van Patten: Ed Gein? Maitre d' at Canal Bar?
Bateman: No, serial killer, Wisconsin in the fifties.
McDermott: So what did Ed say?
Bateman: When I see a pretty girl walking down the street I think two things. One part of me wants to take her out and talk to her and be real nice and sweet and treat her right.
McDermott: And what did the other part think?
Bateman: What her head would look like on a stick. [chuckles]
Luis: Hi, guys. I wanna get your opinion on something. It's my business card. I decided to get a new one, too.
[Luis removes his business card from the holder and shows it to McDermott, then Van Patten]
McDermott: Very nice.
Van Patten: Very nice, Luis.
Luis: Thank you. [shows it to Bateman, who does not respond. Luis then leaves]
Van Patten: Listen, what about dinner...
Bateman: Is that all you ever have to contribute, Van Patten? What about fuckin' dinner?!
McDermott: Cheer up there, baby. What's the matter? No shiatsu this morning? [claps Bateman on the shoulder]
Bateman: [shoves McDermott's hand away] Touch me like that, and you'll draw back a stump.
McDermott: Hold on there, little buddy--!
[Bateman leaves and heads for the restroom where Luis is at. Donning a pair of leather gloves, he approaches Luis from behind and prepares to strangle him, but Luis turns around, sees Bateman, removes one of the gloves and kisses Bateman's hand.]
Luis: [laughs] Patrick...why here? I've seen you looking at me. [traces a hand along Bateman's cheek, before pressing a finger to his lips and nose] I've noticed your...hot body. [chuckles, then moves in close] Don't be shy. You can't imagine how long I've wanted this - ever since that Christmas party - Arizona 206, you know, the one where you were wearing that red striped paisley Armani tie...
[Bateman, bewildered and disgusted, heads to one of the sinks and begins washing his hands - without even removing the gloves.]
Luis: I want you. I want you, too!
[Bateman does not respond and heads for the door.]
Luis: Patrick!
Bateman: WHAT IS IT?!
Luis: ...Where are you going?
Bateman: I've gotta return some videotapes. [leaves]
Bateman: I think, um, Evelyn, that we've, uh, lost touch.
Evelyn: Why? What's wrong?
Bateman: My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale cannot be corrected, but, ah, I have no other way to fulfill my needs. I'm fucking serious. It's fucking over, us, this is no joke. I don't think we should see each other anymore.
Evelyn: But your friends are my friends and my friends are your friends. I really don't think it would work. [fusses with his collar] You have a little something...
Bateman: I know that your friends are my friends and, uh... I've thought about that. You can have 'em. You're not terribly important to me.
Evelyn: What about the past? Our past?
Bateman: We never really shared one.
Evelyn: You're inhuman.
Bateman: No...I'm in touch with humanity. Evelyn, I'm sorry, I just, uh...You're not terribly important to me.
Bateman: You're not terribly important to me.
Waiter: Would you like to hear today's specials?
Bateman: Not if you want to keep your spleen.
Bateman: Come on, Bryce. There are a lot more important problems than Sri Lanka to worry about.
Bryce: Like what?
Bateman: Well, we have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger. We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless, and oppose racial discrimination and promote civil rights, while also promoting equal rights for women. We have to encourage a return to traditional moral values. Most importantly, we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people.
Bateman: You like Huey Lewis and the News?
Paul Allen: They're OK.
Bateman: Their early work was a little too new wave for my tastes, but when Sports came out in '83, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to Elvis Costello, but I think Huey has a far more bitter, cynical sense of humour.
Paul Allen: Hey Halberstram.
Bateman: Yes, Allen?
Paul Allen: Why are there copies of the Style section all over the place, d-do you have a dog? A little chow or something?
Bateman: No, Allen.
Paul Allen: Is that a rain coat?
Bateman: Yes it is! In '87, Huey released this, Fore!, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip to be Square", a song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. [rapidly, as if agitated] But they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity, and the importance of trends, it's also a personal statement about the band itself. [raises axe above head] Hey Paul!
[he bashes Allen in the head with the axe, and blood splatters over him]
Bateman: [as he begins to hack Allen to death with the axe] TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!
Bateman: [about Paul Allen] He was into that whole Yale thing.
Donald Kimball: Yale thing?
Bateman: Yeah, Yale thing.
Kimball: What do you mean "Yale thing"?
Bateman: Well, for one thing, I think he was probably a closet homosexual who did a lot of cocaine. That whole Yale thing.
Bateman: Ask me a question.
Club girl: So, what do you do?
Bateman: I'm into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly.
Club girl: Do you like it?
Bateman: Well, it depends. Why?
Club girl: Well, most guys I know who are in Mergers and Acquisitions really don't like it.
Bateman: Did you know that Whitney Houston's debut LP, called simply Whitney Houston, had four number one singles on it? Did you know that, Christie?
Elizabeth: [laughing] You actually listen to Whitney Houston? You own a Whitney Houston CD? More than one?
Bateman: [ignoring her] It's hard to choose a favorite among so many great tracks, but "The Greatest Love of All" is one of the best, most powerful songs ever written about self-preservation, dignity. Its universal message crosses all boundaries and instills one with the hope that it's not too late to better ourselves. Since, Elizabeth, it's impossible in this world we live in to empathize with others, we can always empathize with ourselves. It's an important message, crucial really. And it's beautifully stated on the album.
Bryce: [after snorting "cut" cocaine] It's a fucking milligram of sweetener. I want to get high off this, not sprinkle it on my fucking oatmeal.
Bateman: Definitely weak, but I have a feeling that if we do enough of it we'll be okay.
Club Patron: [leans over from another booth] Will you keep it down? I'm trying to do drugs!
Bryce: Fuck you! Calm down. Let's do it anyway. That is if the FAGGOT in the next stall thinks it's okay!
Club Patron: FUCK YOU!
Bryce: HEY FUCK YOU! Sorry, dude. Steroids. Okay, let's do it.
Bryce: [watching Ronald Reagan on TV] How can he just stand there and lie like that? He makes himself out to be a harmless old codger, but inside... inside...
Bateman: [internal monologue] ... "but inside" doesn't matter.
McDermott: "Inside", yes, "inside..." - believe it or not, Bryce, we're actually listening to you...
Bryce: Come on, Bateman, what do you think?
Bateman: [Completely uninterested] Whatever.

Taglines

[edit]
  • The menu is in Braille.
  • Killer looks.
  • No introductions necessary.
  • Killer inside.
  • Evil never looked so damn good.
  • I need to return some videotapes...
  • Monsters are real.

Cast

[edit]
[edit]
Wikipedia
Wikipedia
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