I simply am not there

Rating: Null/10 (30 November 2000)

Mary Harron's intelligent adaptation is much funnier than Brett Easton Ellis' controversial novel, and manages to capture the essential ambience of the book without relying on gross-out schlock horror tactics. The ultra-violence is completely toned down in favour of a more subtle approach, and the most effective scenes are frequently not the ones featuring Patrick Bateman's nocturnal chainsaw frenzies, but instead those concerned with the banal, superficial world of designer-obsessive, over competitive uber-execs working on Wall Street in the 1980s.
In this respect it's something of a period piece, employing 80s trappings such as absurdly chunky mobile phones, decidedly suspect hairstyles and Hugo Boss power suits.The ability to secure a reservation at the latest exclusive restaurant is the benchmark by which these characters are judged. Essentially it's as much a satire on the materialistic ethos of the decade as it is a study of terminal psychological disintegration.

Christian Bale, in what might be a career-defining role, carries the whole movie - but that's not to detract from the extremely witty script which recreates some of the book's seminal scenes to great effect. It's a tribute to his strong central performance that despite Bateman's glaring character flaws (vanity, self-obsession, a penchant for slaying innocent people with nail guns) he actually succeeds in making him quite sympathetic. He even attempts to warn people about his psychopathic tendancies, but these random pleas for help go totally unheard by the hip disaffected Manhattenites he's forced to hang out with.
Trapped in a nightmarishly amoral world, and devoid of any recognisable human emotions other than anger and disgust, Bateman ultimately comes across as the biggest victim of them all. Even when he openly admits to his multiple crimes, his yuppie contemporaries refuse to accept the confession, because mass-murder just isn't the done thing. There's even the hint of a conspiracy of silence, a suggestion that somebody might be covertly covering up the evidence of his deranged activities.
There are also some great supporting roles, notably from Chloe Seveigny as his doting secretary and Willem Dafoe as the cop who is aware of Bateman's guilt but doesn't seem that concerned with stopping him.

Like the book, the film has no satisfactory resolution, and the audience is left with the impression that Bateman is still out there, drilling holes in prostitutes heads, waiting in vain for someone to catch him. Considering the problematic pre-production period, this film has triumphantly emerged from development hell to give moviegoers a serious slice of the very blackest humour. And thankfully, no Leo Dicaprio to spoil the fun....