American PsychoWhen Vintage Books published the controversial novel called "American Psycho" in 1991 by equally controversial author, Bret Easton Ellis, "socially conscious" citizens (read: morality police) took great strides to censor and/or denounce the transgressive novel as pornography and filth, detrimental to the moral fiber of...whatever. (In Australia, it is still required to be sold shrink-wrapped; yes, seriously.) When Lions Gate Films released the film adaptation in 2000 by director (and co-writer) Mary Harron, the response was predictably the same. In truth, objections were raised to its adaptation prior to its inception, and the film struggled to attain an R-rating.
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So what's the big deal? American Psycho stars Christian Bale in a breakthrough role as Patrick Bateman, good-looking yuppie investment banker, materialistic style snob, and secretly a vile serial killer on a level with the likes of Jeffrey Dahmer. Perhaps the most shocking thing is that American Psycho is played for comedy--decidedly black comedy, but the filmic satire of 1980s consumerism, capitalism, and narcissism is front and center, inescapable and all-consuming. In this insane (yet all-too recognizable) tanned and manicured reflection of New York City, Pat Bateman may be this city's model citizen (gasp). American Psycho underwent a good deal of development changes and alterations in production, before the film was finally made. In making the film mostly a comedy, the filmmakers wisely avoided alienating the audience out the door. Where the novel is challenging and exhausting (though the work of a sophisticated and genius author), the film delivers disarming quips about '80s-era antiquities we can't help but smirk at, and pairs anachronistic music selections alongside scenes of extreme sex and violence...for shock, yes, but mostly for humor, drawing attention to Patrick's insecurities and vanity. The benefit of this important stylistic choice is that without the periodic levity, the film would be virtually unwatchable, and we would lose that key deception and contribution on the part of Mary Harron and co-writer, Guinevere Turner: Patrick Bateman is somehow, somehow likable. Not that anyone should endorse a depraved lunatic like Bateman, but between his charm, his good looks, his style, and--when he fakes it--his *snicker* social awareness, we want to like Patrick. Of course, of course, we recoil when he starts chasing prostitutes down the hall naked, covered in blood, with a chainsaw...other than that, he'd probably be good company for drinks, or even a stimulating dinner discussion...just don't let him do the catering.
The film (and book before it) was reviled as misogynistic and claims were made that it promoted horrific violence toward women. The truth is that American Psycho uses the unconscionable behavior of Patrick--and the sexist sentiments of his "boy's club" colleagues at Pierce & Pierce (how's that for wordplay)--as an unequivocal condemnation of sexism and more. Bateman's co-workers come across as unmitigated jerks, with derogatory comments about women as they smoke cigars and obsess about reservations at Dorsia. Superficially, Patrick portrays himself as a "voice of reason/boy next door" type, claiming to support gender equality, end racial discrimination, provide food and shelter for the homeless, etc. The reality--as the film progresses--reveals that these sentiments are the hollow call, the lure of a predator in camouflage, making his prey comfortable in his presence before they know it's too late. In many ways, Patrick regurgitates the images he has consumed as a twisted model for his sense of "fitting in". Patrick recounts reviews of pop music performers like Huey Lewis and Whitney Houston, as though he were recalling an article he read in the latest style section. His concepts of a relationship with a woman are molded from pornography, and most horrifying of all, he mimics the actions and violence of serial killers he researches and the violence he sees on TV in his own private life. In this, Patrick (and what he represents) is the ultimate consumer, a product of endlessly indulgent terminal-velocity hedonism and self-gratification, the physical embodiment of a condemnation of self-obsession. By the end of the film, surrounded by egotistical Wall Street-types, overly-urbane, useless facades of what might be misconstrued as "people", we look back on this period piece, and might think, "man, I don't miss the '80s at all"...until we remember that in November 2013, the word "selfie" was declared "word of the year", and suddenly that self-aggrandization (and a whole lot of other "self-hyphens" I could add) safely nestled a few decades back doesn't seem that far away.
Recommended for: Fans of satirical period pieces set close enough to spit on; for fans of dark comedy and clever film adaptations of even darker literature.
The film (and book before it) was reviled as misogynistic and claims were made that it promoted horrific violence toward women. The truth is that American Psycho uses the unconscionable behavior of Patrick--and the sexist sentiments of his "boy's club" colleagues at Pierce & Pierce (how's that for wordplay)--as an unequivocal condemnation of sexism and more. Bateman's co-workers come across as unmitigated jerks, with derogatory comments about women as they smoke cigars and obsess about reservations at Dorsia. Superficially, Patrick portrays himself as a "voice of reason/boy next door" type, claiming to support gender equality, end racial discrimination, provide food and shelter for the homeless, etc. The reality--as the film progresses--reveals that these sentiments are the hollow call, the lure of a predator in camouflage, making his prey comfortable in his presence before they know it's too late. In many ways, Patrick regurgitates the images he has consumed as a twisted model for his sense of "fitting in". Patrick recounts reviews of pop music performers like Huey Lewis and Whitney Houston, as though he were recalling an article he read in the latest style section. His concepts of a relationship with a woman are molded from pornography, and most horrifying of all, he mimics the actions and violence of serial killers he researches and the violence he sees on TV in his own private life. In this, Patrick (and what he represents) is the ultimate consumer, a product of endlessly indulgent terminal-velocity hedonism and self-gratification, the physical embodiment of a condemnation of self-obsession. By the end of the film, surrounded by egotistical Wall Street-types, overly-urbane, useless facades of what might be misconstrued as "people", we look back on this period piece, and might think, "man, I don't miss the '80s at all"...until we remember that in November 2013, the word "selfie" was declared "word of the year", and suddenly that self-aggrandization (and a whole lot of other "self-hyphens" I could add) safely nestled a few decades back doesn't seem that far away.
Recommended for: Fans of satirical period pieces set close enough to spit on; for fans of dark comedy and clever film adaptations of even darker literature.