American Psycho (film)

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American Psycho is a 2000 film about a young, well-to-do man who isn't quite as normal as he seems....once you notice all the body parts of women he keeps in his apartment.

Directed by Mary Harron. Written by Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner, based on the novel by Bret Easton Ellis.
Killer looks.taglines

Patrick Bateman

  • You are a fucking ugly bitch, I want to stab you to death, and then play around with your blood.
  • Eleven thirty-four. We stand on the sidewalk in front of Jean's apartment on the Upper East Side. Her doorman eyes us warily and fills me with a nameless dread, his gaze piercing me from the lobby. A curtain of stars, miles of them, are scattered, glowing, across the sky and their multitude humbles me, which I have a hard time tolerating. She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety. It's as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there...is...no...key.
  • I live in the American Gardens Building on W. 81st Street on the 11th floor. My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I believe in taking care of myself and a balanced diet and rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask which I leave on for 10 minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion.
  • 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 you and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.
  • Paul Allen has mistaken me for this dickhead Marcus Halberstram. It seems logical because Marcus also works at P&P and in fact does the same exact thing I do and he also has a penchant for Valentino suits and Oliver Peoples glasses. Marcus and I even go to the same barber, although I have a slightly better haircut.
  • I saw the acclaimed New York musical, "Oh Africa, Brave Africa". It was.. a laugh riot.
  • [to drycleaner] If you don't shut your fucking mouth, I will kill you.
  • [to homeless person] Why don't you get a job? If you're so hungry, why don't you get a job?
  • I have all the characteristics of a human being: flesh, blood, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
  • You're dating Louis and he's in Arizona. You're fucking me and we don't have plans tonight. What could you possibly be doing?
  • [faking a conversation on the phone] Now, John, you've got to wear clothes in proportion to your physique. There are definite do and don'ts, good buddy, of wearing a bold striped shirt. A bold stripe shirt calls for solid colored or discreetly patterned suits and ties. [pause] Yes, always tip the stylist 15%. Listen, John, I've gotta go, T. Boone Pickens just walked in. [laughs] Just joking. No, don't tip the owner of the salon. Okay John? Right? Got it.
  • [On being late to a dinner date] Hey, I'm a child of divorce. Give me a break.
  • I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane?
  • [voice-over] There is a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Paul's apartment overlooks the park... and is obviously more expensive than mine.
  • That's a very fine Chardonnay you're not drinking. I want you to clean your vagina. No. From behind. Get on your knees.
  • [after being kicked in the face by Christie the prostitute] Not the face! You bitch! Not the fucking face, you piece of bitch trash!
  • [Assessing a business card] Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark.
  • I'm leaving. I've assessed the situation, and I'm going.
  • I have to return some videotapes.
  • [voiceover] As we arrive at Espace I'm on the verge of tears as I'm certain we won't get a decent table. But we do; relief washes over me in an awesome wave.
  • Do you like Phil Collins? I've been a big Genesis fan ever since the release of their 1980 album, Duke. Before that, I really didn't understand any of their work. Too artsy, too intellectual. It was on Duke where, uh, Phil Collins' presence became more apparent. I think Invisible Touch was the group's undisputed masterpiece. It's an epic meditation on intangibility. At the same time, it deepens and enriches the meaning of the preceding three albums. Christy, take off your robe. Listen to the brilliant ensemble playing of Banks, Collins and Rutherford. You can practically hear every nuance of every instrument. Sabrina, remove your dress. In terms of lyrical craftsmanship, the sheer songwriting, this album hits a new peak of professionalism. Sabrina, why don't you, uh, dance a little. Take the lyrics to Land of Confusion. In this song, Phil Collins addresses the problems of abusive political authority. In Too Deep is the most moving pop song of the 1980s, about monogamy and commitment. The song is extremely uplifting. Their lyrics are as positive and affirmative as, uh, anything I've heard in rock. Christy, get down on your knees so Sabrina can see your asshole. Phil Collins' solo career seems to be more commercial and therefore more satisfying, in a narrower way. Especially songs like In the Air Tonight and, uh, Against All Odds. Sabrina, don't just stare at it, eat it. But I also think Phil Collins works best within the confines of the group, than as a solo artist, and I stress the word artist. This is Sussudio, a great, great song, a personal favorite.
  • Not quite blonde, are we? More of a dirty blonde.
  • [excusing himself from Detective Kimball] Listen, you'll have to excuse me. I have a lunch meeting with Cliff Huxtable at the Four Seasons in 20 minutes.
  • Harold, it's Bateman, Patrick Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know: I've killed a lot of people. Some girls in the apartment uptown uh, some homeless people maybe 5 or 10 um an NYU girl I met in Central Park. I left her in a parking lot behind some donut shop. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail gun, and some man uh some old faggot with a dog last week. I killed another girl with a chainsaw, I had to, she almost got away and uh someone else there I can't remember maybe a model, but she's dead too. And Paul Allen. I killed Paul Allen with an axe in the face, his body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. I don't want to leave anything out here. I guess I've killed maybe 20 people, maybe 40. I have tapes of a lot of it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes. I even, um... I ate some of their brains, and I tried to cook a little. Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people. And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it this time. I guess I'll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I'm a pretty uh, I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So, if you get back tomorrow, meet me at Harry's Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.
  • 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.
  • Everything failed to subdue me. Soon everything seemed dull: another sunrise, the lives of heroes, falling in love, war, the discoveries people made about each other. The only thing that didn't bore me, obviously enough, was how much money Tim Price made, and yet in its obviousness it did. 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.
  • Pumpkin? Pumpkin, you're dating an asshole. Pumpkin, you're dating the biggest dick-weed in New York. Pumpkin...you're dating a tumbling, tumbling dick-weed.

Others

  • ATM: Feed me a stray cat.

Dialogue

Evelyn: Thousands of roses and lots of chocolate truffles. Godiva, and oysters in the half-shell.
Bateman: [narrating] I'm trying to listen to the new Robert Palmer tape, but Evelyn, my supposed fiancée, keeps buzzing in my ear.
Evelyn: Annie Leibovitz. We'll get Annie Leibovitz. And we'll have to get someone to videotape. Patrick, we should do it.
Bateman: Do what?
Evelyn: Get married. Have a wedding.
Bateman: No, I can't take the time off work.
Evelyn: Your father practically owns the company. You can do anything you like, silly.
Bateman: I don't want to talk about it.
Evelyn: Well, you hate that job anyway. Why don't you just quit? You don't have to work.
Bateman: Because I want to fit in.

Bateman: Is that the Ransom file? Thanks. Don't wear that outfit again.
Jean: Ummm...what? I didn't hear you.
Bateman: I said "Do not wear that outfit again." Wear a dress. A skirt or something.
Jean: You don't like this, I take it?
Bateman: Come on, you're prettier than that.
Jean: Thanks, Patrick.
[Phone rings]
Bateman: I'm not here. And high heels. I like high heels.

McDermott: If they have a great personality and they're not great looking... then who fucking cares?
Bateman: Well, let's just say hypothetically ok? What if they have a great personality?
[pause, all laugh]
Bateman: I know, I know.
Bateman, McDermott, Van Patten: [in unison] There are no girls with good personalities.
Van Patten: A good personality consists of a chick with a little hard body, who will satisfy all sexual demands without being too slutty about things, and who essentially will keep her dumb fucking mouth shut.
McDermott: The only girls with good personalities who are smart or maybe funny or halfway intelligent or talented, though God knows what the fuck that means, are ugly chicks.
Van Patten: Absolutely.
McDermott: And this is because they have to make up for how fucking unnattractive they are.

Bateman: Do you know what Ed Gein said about women?
Van Patten: Ed Gein? Maitre d' at Canal Bar?
Bateman: No, serial killer, Wisconsin in the fifties.
McDermott: So what did Ed say?
Bateman: When I see a pretty girl walking down the street I think two things. One part of me wants to take her out and talk to her and be real nice and sweet and treat her right.
McDermott: And what did the other part think?
Bateman: What her head would look like on a stick. [chuckles]

Bateman: He was into that whole Yale thing.
Donald Kimball: Yale thing?
Bateman: Yeah, Yale thing.
Donald Kimball: What whole Yale thing?
Bateman: Well, he was probably a closet homosexual who did a lot of cocaine. That whole Yale thing.

Waiter: Would you like to hear today's specials?
Bateman: Not if you want to keep your spleen.

Courtney Rawlinson: Will you call me before Easter?
Bateman: Maybe.

Bateman: Come on, Bryce. There are a lot more important problems than Sri Lanka to worry about.
Bryce: Like what?
Bateman: Well, we have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger. We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless, and oppose racial discrimination and promote civil rights, while also promoting equal rights for women. We have to encourage a return to traditional moral values. Most importantly, we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people.

Bryce: He makes himself out to be a harmless old codger, but inside... inside...
Bateman: [voice-over] ..."but inside" doesn't matter.
McDermott: "Inside," yes, "inside..." - believe it or not, Bryce, we're actually listening to you...
Bryce: Come on, Bateman, what do you think?
Bateman: Whatever.

Courtney Rawlinson: Listen Patrick, can we talk?
Bateman: You look... marvelous. There's nothing to say.

Courtney Rawlinson: Stop it, I'm...
Bateman: - on a lot of lithium?

Bryce: [after snorting cut cocaine] I want to get high off this, not sprinkle it on my fucking Oaties.
Bateman: Definitely weak, but I have a feeling that if we do enough of it we'll be okay.
Club Patron: [leans over from another booth] Will you keep it down? I'm trying to do drugs!
Bryce: HEY, FUCK YOU!

Bateman: I don't think we should see each other any more.
Evelyn: Why? What's wrong?
Bateman: I need to engage in homicidal behaviour on a massive scale. It cannot be corrected but I have no other way to fulfill my needs.
Evelyn: What about the past?
Bateman: We never really shared one.
Evelyn: You're inhuman.
Bateman: No...I'm in touch with humanity.

Bateman: I don't think we should see each other.
Evelyn: But your friends are my friends and my friends are your friends. I don't think it would work. You have a little something...
Bateman: I know that your friends are my friends and, uh... I thought about that. You can have'em.

[Just after breaking up]
Evelyn: Where are you going?
Bateman: I am just leaving.
Evelyn: But where?
Bateman: I have to return some videotapes.

Bateman: Did you know that Whitney Houston's debut LP, called simply Whitney Houston, had 4 number one singles on it? Did you know that, Christie?
Elizabeth: [laughing] You actually listen to Whitney Houston? You own a Whitney Houston CD? More than one?
Bateman: [solemnly] It's hard to choose a favorite among so many great tracks, but "The Greatest Love of All" is one of the best, most powerful songs ever written about self-preservation, dignity. Its universal message crosses all boundaries and instills one with the hope that it's not too late to better ourselves. Since, Elizabeth, it's impossible in this world we live in to empathize with others, we can always empathize with ourselves. It's an important message, crucial really. And it's beautifully stated on the album.

Van Patten: They don't have a good bathroom to do coke in.
McDermott: Are you sure that's Paul Allen over there?
Bryce: Yes. McDufus, I am.
McDermott: He's handling the Fisher account.
Bryce: Lucky bastard.
McDermott: Lucky Jew bastard.
Bateman: Oh, Jesus, McDermott, what does that have to do with anything?
McDermott: Listen. I've seen the bastard sitting in his office on the phone with CEOs, spinning a fucking menorah. The bastard brought a Hanukkah bush into the office last December.
Bateman: You spin a dreidel, McDermott, not a menorah. You spin a dreidel.
McDermott: Oh, my God. Bateman, do you want me to fry you up some fucking potato pancakes? Some latkes?
Bateman: No. Just cool it with the anti-Semitic remarks.
McDermott: Oh, I forgot. Bateman's dating someone from the ACLU.

Bateman: You like Huey Lewis and the News?
Paul Allen: They're OK.
Bateman: Their early work was a little too new wave for my tastes, but when Sports came out in '83,I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to Elvis Costello, but I think Huey has a far more bitter, cynical sense of humour.
Paul Allen: Hey Halberstram.
Bateman: Yes, Allen?
Paul Allen: Why are there copies of the Style section all over the place, d-do you have a dog? A little chow or something?
Bateman: No, Allen.
Paul Allen: Is that a rain coat?
Bateman: Yes it is! In '87, Huey released this, Fore, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip to be Square", a song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. [rapidly, as if agitated] But they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity, and the importance of trends, it's also a personal statement about the band itself. [raises axe above head] Hey Paul!
[he bashes Allen in the head with the axe, and blood splatters over him]
Bateman: TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTARD! YOU, FUCKING BASTARD!

Bateman: Ask me a question.
Daisy: What do you do?
Bateman: I'm into... well, murders and executions mostly.
Daisy: Do you like it?
Bateman: It depends. Why?
Daisy: Because most guys I know who work with mergers and acquisitions really don't like it.

Jean: Are you dating anyone?
Bateman: Maybe. I don't know... Not really.

Bateman: Did you know that Ted Bundy's first dog was a collie named Lassie? [laughs]
Jean: Who's Ted Bundy?

Bateman: I'm on a diet.
Jean: What, you're kidding, right? You look great... so fit... and thin.
Bateman: Well, you can always be thinner... look better.
Jean: Then maybe we shouldn't go out to dinner. I wouldn't want you to lose your willpower.
Bateman: That's okay. I'm not very good at controlling it anyway.

Jean: What's that?
Bateman: Duct tape. I need it for... taping something.

Jean: Make someone happy. Have you ever wanted to?
Bateman: I'm looking for, uh... [puts nail gun to the back of Jean's head] I guess you could say I just want to have a meaningful relationship with someone special.

Bateman: I think if you stay, something bad will happen. I think I might hurt you. You don't want to get hurt, do you?
Jean: No. No, I guess not. I don't want to get bruised.

Bateman: Jean! I need help.
Jean: Patrick, is that you?
Bateman: Jean, I'm not...
Jean: Craig McDermott called. He wants to meet you, David Van Patten, and Tim Bryce at Harry's for drinks.
Bateman: Oh, my God... you dumb bitch.
Jean: Patrick! I can't hear you!
Bateman: [Laughs] What am I doing!? Ha!
Jean: Where are you, Patrick? What's wrong?
Bateman: I don't think I'm going to make it, Jean ... to the, uh ... office this afternoon.
Jean: Why?
Bateman: Just say no!
Jean: What is it, Patrick? Are you all right?
Bateman: Stop sounding so fucking... sad. Jesus.

Bateman: I hope I'm not being cross-examined.
Donald Kimball: Do you feel that way?
Bateman: No, not really.

(As Bateman is loading a recent murder victim into the trunk of a taxi, a co-worker spots him)

Luis: Patrick? Patrick, is that you?
Bateman: No, Luis, it's not me. You're mistaken.

Taglines

  • Killer looks.
  • No introductions necessary.
  • Killer inside.
  • Evil never looked so damn good.
  • I need to return some videotapes...

Cast

External links

Wikipedia
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