American Psycho GIF Gallery and Review

Cool it with the antisemitic remarks…

Matty S.
5 min readFeb 22, 2018
“All it comes down to is this: I feel like shit but look great.”

American Psycho is a 1991 novel by Bret Easton Ellis, which tells the story of Patrick Bateman, who lives a double life as a Wall Street yuppie by day and a sexually sadistic serial killer by night. Embroiled in controversy, the novel gets as much flack from critics as it does acclaim from literary academics.

“…there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.”

American Psycho reads like a fever dream. What the novel lacks in plot and characterization, it makes up for with a fervent stream of consciousness from our first-person, unreliable narrator. These components, coupled with frequent cases of mistaken identity throughout the novel make for a convoluted and at times tedious narrative.

“Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?”

Lacking a clear plot, Ellis relies more on the uncensored insanity which plagues Patrick’s thoughts. Entire passages focus on details only an incredible narcissist would notice, such as which designer brands other characters are wearing. All that matters in Patrick’s shallow group of privileged friends and colleagues is who has the best stuff.

“Disintegration — I’m taking it in stride.”

Although Patrick appears normal on the surface, he regularly engages in outrageous violence, including raping call girls, killing a homeless man and his dog, torturing women with a nail gun, and even cannibalism. Despite his nonchalant carelessness regarding his behavior, no one else seems to notice Patrick’s increasingly homicidal tendencies. Even when Patrick is open about it, the characters surrounding him are too self-absorbed to process what he is saying — at one point he explains that he’s “into murders and executions”, which is misheard as “mergers and acquisitions”.

“There wasn’t a clear, identifiable emotion within me, except for greed and, possibly, total disgust. I had all the characteristics of a human being — flesh, blood, skin, hair — but my depersonalization was so intense, had gone so deep, that the normal ability to feel compassion had been eradicated, the victim of a slow, purposeful erasure. I was simply imitating reality, a rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning. Something horrible was happening and yet I couldn’t figure out why — I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Patrick arouses the suspicion of the authorities after he murders one of his Wall Street coworkers, Paul Allen, out of equal parts jealousy and sadistic pleasure. He hides the body in Paul’s apartment, which he now will use as a macabre torture chamber for his future killings.

“It strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place.”

Periodically, narration ceases and gives way for an essay on pop musicians, completely detached from the rest of the novel. Such artists include Phil Collins and Whitney Houston. This bizarre juxtaposition only adds to the intense, surreal atmosphere of the novel.

“I felt lethal, on the verge of frenzy. My nightly bloodlust overflowed into my days and I had to leave the city. My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation.”

Eventually, Patrick’s bloodlust is unquenchable as he goes on a murder spree through the streets of Manhattan, resulting in a shootout with police. Patrick narrowly escapes, but not without leaving behind a gory trail of carnage and destruction.

“This is true: the world is better off with some people gone. Our lives are not all interconnected. That theory is crock. Some people truly do not need to be here.”

At the climax of the novel, Patrick confesses his crimes in a voicemail to his lawyer. He admits to possibly hundreds of murders, cannibalism, and torture. However, he encounters his lawyer later and is shocked to see that his voicemail was interpreted as merely a joke.

“There is no time for the innocent.”

Annoyed, Patrick insists his guilt and admits to killing Paul Allen, to which his lawyer states must be impossible since he had lunch with Paul just the other day. Furthermore, upon a visit, Paul Allen’s bloodied apartment where Patrick has been storing bodies is discovered to be immaculately clean and vacant.

“All it came down to was: die or adapt. I imagine my own vacant face, the disembodied voice coming from its mouth: These are terrible times.”

American Psycho closes with Patrick’s indifferent acceptance of his fate to escape any and all consequences. Coming full circle, the novel ends with static, no characters having underwent any real change. The final image is a sign above a door in the Harvard Club reading: THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.

“There’s no use in denying it: this has been a bad week. I’ve started drinking my own urine.”

American Psycho emphasizes the dehumanizing effects of yuppie culture and consumerism as a whole. When life revolves around what brand of watch you wear, there’s little distinction between yourself and a product. Vain consumerism has deteriorated Patrick’s ability to feel empathy to the point that he sees others as merely items and he treats them as such, all his victims reduced to just another meat no different than what he would buy at Whole Foods. The book is not a horror, thriller, or crime novel, but rather a satire: the satirical premise being that Patrick Bateman is such an attrocious character that the fact that he’s a serial killer is the least offensive thing about him. The idea is that in a world as psychopathic as that of 1980s Wall Street, a truly psychopathic serial killer wouldn’t even rise an eyebrow from his equally psychopathic peers.

“There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it I have now surpassed. My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone, in fact I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape, but even after admitting this there is no catharsis, my punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself; no new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant nothing. ”

Banned and censored in many countries due to its sexual violence against women and extreme gore, American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis remains a transgressive, postmodern masterpiece. In 2000, it was adapted into a cult classic film starring Christian Bale which received overall positive reviews. I highly recommend both.

“Sex is mathematics. Individuality no longer an issue. What does intelligence signify? Define reason. Desire- meaningless. Intellect is not a cure. Justice is dead. Fear, recrimination, innocence, sympathy, guilt, waste, failure, grief, were things, emotions, that no one really felt anymore. Reflection is useless, the world is senseless. Evil is its only permanence. God is not alive. Love cannot be trusted. Surface, surface, surface, was all that anyone found meaning in…this was civilization as I saw it, colossal and jagged…”

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