American Psycho: Mary Harron’s best David Lynch film
American Psycho tells the story of Patrick Batemon and his murderous spree through the yuppies of early 2000s New York. By the end of the film, Patrick has got off scot-free. No one is looking for him, no one cares about his rampage, and no one seems to mind that he is seemingly one of the most powerful men still working on Wall Street. A few developments, later in the film, give the audience pause as to whether the brutal blood bath we just witnessed was actually real or just a figment of Patrick's imagination.
First, there is the iconic scene where Patrick attempts to get money from an ATM, only for the ATM to command him to feed it a stray cat. There is also the fact that Paul Allen, Patrick's first victim, is apparently alive and well. Having had lunch with a common associate a few days after the supposed murder. Lastly, there is the cumbersome curiosity of all the coincidences that must have happened for Patrick to get away with these murders. We have seen Patrick murder a high-profile stock broker, kill a sex worker with a chainsaw in a crowded apartment complex, and gun down several bystanders in the heart of New York City. This kind of action would surely raise the alarms of New York's finest, which it does, but for them to simply stop their search and Patrick to end up fine by the end of the film begs the question. Was this all a dream? Was it all just a twisted fantasy built up in the mind of a psychopath? Or was it all real? Should we just accept that Patrick’s escape is nothing more than the product of movie magic? To ask this question is to miss the point of American Psycho entirely. American Psycho isn’t meant to be read or watched as a narrative, rather it is an allegory. American Psycho exists in the same world as Animal Farm or the works of David Lynch. It’s symbolism taking the shape of our real world.
One of Lynch’s finest works, Mulholland Drive, follows the story of a young starlet newly arrived in Hollywood. After we are introduced to the young woman, the film then sharply cuts to the same woman, an incredibly talented Naomi Watts, playing an actress beat down and destroyed by the Hollywood machine. Is this supposed to be the same character? Is this a flash forward to a life wasted in the Hollywood hills? Is this character a dream? Is the first character we saw the dream of a failed actress? It doesn't really matter because Mulholland Dr., much like American Psycho, is not too concerned with narrative. We as the viewers see the same actress playing both a new and excited actress as well as an old downtrodden one and we understand the symbolism. It doesn’t matter which reality is true, all that matters is that the symbolism is clear. Hollywood destroys. The girl who arrives naive and excited eventually becomes beaten and exhausted. Her life doesn't end up the way she imagined and she has nothing to look back on but a pile of broken dreams and ruined aspirations.
The same symbolism exists in American Psyco, albeit less ambiguously. There are no dream sequences or visual cues that alert the viewer that what you’re watching isn’t real. There are no signposted moments that tell you Patrick is dreaming. All we see is a story about real life told by a man who doesn't live in the real world.
Patrick Bateman could be a multimillionaire stock broker living on Wall Street haplessly murdering any denizen that he sees fit. He could also be a lonely single child living in his parent's basement working minimum wage at the local grocery store having delusions of grandeur that involve dissecting sex workers for sport. The point isn't what is real and what isn't, the point is the world Patrick represents. And how people with enough money can get away with anything.
A notably telling moment in the movie is when Patrick goes back to Paul Allen’s house after a particularly gruesome night. Paul was one of Patrick's first victims and he has taken to using Paul’s house as a den for his macabre desires. We view the apartment at one point through a sex worker's eyes. She sees the bodies hidden in the closet, the corpse lying in the bathroom, the blood smeared on the walls, and she runs. She flees through the halls, knocking on every door she sees, pleading for someone to save her. No one does. Instead, Patrick chases her to the stairwell, chainsaw in tow. He laughs maniacally as she attempts to flee. He waits at the top of the stairs while she quickly descends, two steps at a time, and pontificates his perfect moment. At the exact right time, Patrick drops the chainsaw, it flies through the air, turning end over end until it finally lands squarely on the prostitute's back, instantly killing her.
This scene is at best unlikely and at worst delusional. I’ve lived in an apartment complex and one can barely contain the noise of a hungry dog let alone a fearful hooker and a gas-powered chainsaw. But Patrick navigates this scene with ease. He doesn't even bother to put on underwear before chasing his prey to the staircase. He races down the hallway, revving his chainsaw, doing everything he can to strike fear in the heart of his victim. After we view the carnage, we then get to go back to the scene of the crime but this time through Patrick's eyes. Now as we enter the apartment, it has been thoroughly cleaned. There are no more bodies, no sign of the previous tenant, only a creepy real estate that seems to know more than she is letting on. When Patrick asks her who used to live in the apartment, she refuses to give a straight answer. She calmly and slyly asks Patrick to leave as if she knows something. But if she knew of what happened here, why would she let the supposed perpetrator leave? Why would she cover up the bodies and carnage and attempt to sell the apartment as if nothing had happened? Well, because this apartment is prime real estate. it has an amazing view overlooking Central Park. To call the authorities would mean compromising her commission. And why would she compromise her payday for a chance to do the right thing?
This scene is the crux of the film. It’s the first time we see that maybe we haven’t been reading 1984 but instead, we are reading Animal Farm. Maybe nothing is as it seems. Maybe, just maybe, this isn’t a film about a literal American Psyco, but a film about a psychotic America.
In America, the wealthy do what they want with little to no repercussion. Harvey Weinstein abused and assaulted women for decades before eventually, a few brave journalists exposed his behavior. Jeffrey Epstein, sex trafficked countless young women, providing them to god knows how many men of importance before finally landing himself in jail. Kenneth Lay, the mastermind behind Enron, posted bail and died on a vacation to Aspen before he could be sentenced for bankrupting thousands of Americans and losing hundreds of people their jobs. Vince Neil, the lead singer of Motley Crue, killed a woman while driving with a blood alcohol level over twice the legal limit. He spent three weeks in jail. When asked why his sentence was so light, Vince replied “That's the power of money”.
There are countless more examples of wealth breeding discontent, but you get the gist. The wealthy get away with murder. Figuratively and unfortunately sometimes, literally. Bret Easton Ellis’s book and Mary Harron’s film adaptation convey this message through allegory. Patrick Bateman is the wealthy. The son of a CEO. The vain, uninteresting, spoiled brat that does whatever he pleases. He has too much money, cares greatly about the mundane trappings of status, and thrives on being the best dressed in the room. He cares for nothing and no one. He is a psychopath who freely gives into his every will and desire regardless of the outcome for those around him. It’s frightening to step inside his world. Horrifying to see the way he values human life. Despicable that he gets away with it in the end. But what is even more frightening, even more grotesque, is not that Patrick’s story could be true. It’s that Partick isn’t human at all. He’s a corporation living right next door.
