I knew when I sat down with my friend to watch American Psycho I would be entertained, but I didn’t think I’d leave feeling confused. Originally I had thought the plot was going to lean more on the comedic side, which it does at times, but instead it lets you interpret it in a multitude of ways. For those of you who haven’t seen this film, it is about a man named Patrick Bateman who is a successful…something, on Wall Street, and who is hiding a deep secret: he’s a serial killer. With a very prominent cast and absolutely fantastic acting from all of them, I thought I would have finished the screening fostering a frame of mind verging on crumbling. In the end, as I see it, you can view the movie in one of two ways. Either, it is just a testament to how lucky one horrible person can be, and what you can get away with, or it is a film that shines a light on how self-centered and self-obsessed we all can be that we miss the actions and reactions of those around us; bad or good. 

I think one of the more impressive feats of this film is Christian Bale’s acting. I’ve seen him in other films, Ford vs. Ferrari and the 1994 adaptation of Little Women, but now I know why everyone can’t seem to shut up about his movie: Christian Bale is a extraordinary. The way he is able to portray a person, who is seemingly trying to act like a real human, so well is gob smacking. From his dull, monotone, even creepy voice to his ramblings about music careers, Bale is a mastermind at portraying a person with no good emotions. One scene in particular that continues to make me laugh is his bit about Huey Lewis and the News, and the little dance he does in his rain coat right before he slices his co-workers head open with an axe is so incredibly funny and appalling at the same time you can’t help but admire Bale’s talent. 

The one word that encapsulates this film: satire. A movie that is able to actually make fun of serial killers and mass murder is truly a work of art, but also possibly a lesson to us all on how dangerous it can be to not notice those around us and their suffering. A particular part of this film that I missed until my friend brought it up was the fact that the screenplay was written by two women and directed by a woman is so amazing. I cannot imagine how much fun those women had when they were writing the script and can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. How comfortable Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner must be in their own skin to write such a critical piece on present day Americana and the overall dichotomy of the American psyche. Truly, this film, as horrible as the subject is, can’t help but be compelling.

THESE ARE VIEWS OF A SINGULAR AUTHOR, NOT OF UNIVERSITY OF IOWA, FILMSCENE, AND BIJOU FILM BOARD.