It's a film where identity is determined by brands, haircuts, and dinner reservations. There's a darkly sardonic feeling for the audience watching a world where even trying to get a table at Dorsia would result in gales of maniac laughter. Every character is self-absorbed and fails to read all of the others, from the kind Jean (played by Chloë Sevigny) who fails to realize Bale's Patrick Bateman is a literal serial killer to Dafoe's Donald Kimbell who seems to simultaneously understand and not know guilt. The film becomes a fever pitch nightmare where the ultimate actions of Bateman are unclear. I guess I don't mind personally adding my thought is that he did kill all of the people he said he did; I just think it makes a better story. Still, this confession means nothing. I give American Psycho a 9/10.
Review of American Psycho
