Directed by:
Mary HarronCinematography:
Andrzej SekulaComposer:
John CaleCast:
Christian Bale, Jared Leto, Reese Witherspoon, Chloë Sevigny, Willem Dafoe, Justin Theroux, Josh Lucas, Bill Sage, Samantha Mathis, Matt Ross, Cara Seymour (more)VOD (3)
Plots(1)
A businessman who leads a double life as a serial killer struggles to keep up appearances and hold his sanity. (Netflix)
Videos (1)
Reviews (11)
An intentionally controversial thriller. Do I mind? Not at all. Bale is fantastically convincing in the role of the psychotic financier Bat(e)man and so is the portrayal of that high society world. Of course, I’ve no idea how realistic it is, but I know that I don’t have even the slightest desire to live it first hand.
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I was wondering the whole time if Christian Bale's acting was merely overacting or basically a near-perfect performance. It's abundantly clear that a subject this interesting will stir up controversy at the mere mention of it and demand the attention of the wider public – just because of WHAT IT'S ABOUT. Personally, I was satisfied, I didn't even mind the "over-pointed" ending and as a result American Psycho impressed me as a worthy precursor to Dexter or Mr. Brooks.
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American Psycho is one of those films that can be rated from one to five stars. From a technical standpoint, it's a decently crafted piece with good cinematography, editing, and especially strong acting performances, where most of the cast gives it their all, and it's almost a pity that the same level of performance isn't seen in a stronger film. Even in small roles, quality actors like Chloë Sevigny as the secretary shine. However, the problem lies with the content, which, while superficially flashy, is internally empty and decadent - scenes from the high society milieu, nightclubs filled with glamorous beauties and yuppies in elegant squares are typical. In short, it's a kitschy affair that, while somewhat faithfully capturing Bret Easton Ellis' literary source material, is quite indigestible for me. Overall impression: 40%.
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// - I can’t believe that Bryce prefers Van Patten’s card to mine. // - But wait. You ain't seen nothin' yet. Raised lettering, pale nimbus. White. - Impressive. Very nice. Hmm, let’s see Paul Allen’s card. // Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh, my God. It even has a watermark. //
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A probe into the mind of a member of a certain animal species from Wall Street who revels in expensive formal suits and designer goods, slaps on all sorts of menthol, moisturizing and peeling masks, regularly visits tanning salons, blathers about nothing in his circle of friends passing it off as serious deep musings. His measure of success is, among other things, the appearance of his business card, which he likes to compare with his equally afflicted friends, and to be free and cool, he goes to parties to snort coke. In fact, he is so bored with his emotional emptiness that he entertains himself in a quite "original" way, he kills. Those empty-minded suits sometimes make you so sick that the murders aren't even that disgusting in comparison. And to be honest, the murders are the least interesting thing about the whole movie.
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