How The American Psycho Became The American Schmuckhole

Rating: 1/10 (13 May 2014)

My-oh-my! What a winning team! Feminist writer/director Mary Harron (who's F-N clueless about hardcore horror) and schlep-actor Christian Bale (who's F-N clueless. Period) Wow! What a winning team!
By putting these 2 mental-midgets together for the making of American Psycho it resulted in a potentially promising horror movie getting reduced to its absolute candy-assed worst.
(Well, hey, what the hell did I expect?)
Some years ago I had actually read Ellis's novel (this film is based upon that story). And, I'm tellin' ya, even though the book wasn't much to rave about, at least it did deliver a substantially horrific punch.
But, as expected, director Harron didn't do the book even the slightest bit of justice with it her snivelling screen-play, nor with her half-assed direction.
With Ellis's book the total focus of the story was on the graphically-detailed descriptions of mutilation and dismemberment. And, believe me, his story was downright hideous in its detail.
But, on the other hand, under Harron's direction, this F-N clueless bimbo completely sanitized the story's gore to the point of almost eliminating it right out of the story. And, this, in my opinion, was a big no-no.
Harron literally reduced the ghastly-cruel American Psycho character to the level of being an disinfected American Namby-Pamby boy. And, this really sucked, big-time.
This film didn't come anywhere near to generating the same gruesome horror that the book did. And, it should have been right on par with it.
And, speaking about gross miscasting. It certainly didn't help matters, at all, that Christian Bale was the one chosen to play the title character, Patrick Bateman.
Ha! What a pathetic joke Bale was in his part. His performance (as usual) was totally forgettable. He was nothing but a big, dreary bore who, under Harron's incompetent direction, came across as being some sort of a dimwit stand-up comic whose high-point in the story came about when he gave himself a facial.
(Spare me!)
On top of the terrible dialogue, the shallow characters, and the endless scenes involving expensive dinners in chic restaurants (ho-hum!), this picture (much to my annoyance) turned into one, long commercial, blatantly selling its 1980s, pop music soundtrack.
A good part of American Psycho's story was dominated by one tired, old pop song after another. There were 30 songs in total. And, I swear that from this day onwards, I absolutely refuse to ever listen to the likes of Phil Collins, or Huey Lewis ever again.
P.S.
This is a perfect horror movie for people who want to see a horror movie that isn't a horror movie.