American Psycho

American Psycho was a a movie, combining all of the pleasure of sitting there with the thrill of watching a screen. The sights and sounds suggested events, and sometimes those events were exaggerated. Indeed, when the illusion of motion flooded the television, I knew my emotions would play along with this deliberate suspension.

This film captures Christian Bale pretending to be a serial killer. He elicits fear and loathing, but not toward himself; rather we loathe what he is pretending to be, which they call character, while Bale himself remains unscathed. In fact, the more he acts like a serial killer, the more one might admire Bale, while simultaneously harboring no admiration for serial killers themselves. It's this contradiction that excites the viewer, seeing acts played out that they would not actually want to witness, or more accurately would fear to witness; yet it's harmless and anonymous in this case. Film like no other medium immerses one in such multi-sensory theatrics, and American Psycho was above all else a film. It is also a book but I'm not referring to that.

3/4 stars as a movie, 2/4 stars as a way to spend my night