The year is 1989, and in the Masters of the Universe world of New York City’s high rollers, it’s all about me, me, me. Patrick Bateman (Benjamin Walker) admires his nearly naked body, spouts the brand names of everything he wears and owns, and likes himself a lot. He’s at the top of his game, and like the Mad Men who have gone before, he’s an expert at selling the sizzle. Life is all about going to the flashiest clubs, snorting cocaine, being seen with the most attractive women, and above all, winning. But Patrick’s also completely stressed out, and it starts to take its toll. He can’t stop fantasizing about committing brutal murders. Prostitutes must be beaten and eviscerated; an old, decrepit homeless man must be slaughtered; and finally, his arch enemy, Paul Owen (Drew Moerlein) must be butchered. Patrick sets up a clever ruse; he’ll leave a message on Paul’s answering machine, saying he’s gone to London. Then, he’ll use Paul’s apartment to stash the bodies. -Patrick also has homicidal thoughts about his girlfriend, Victoria (Anna Eilinsfeld). She is uber chic but also wildly annoying. She wants Patrick to propose; even though they share very little affection, she demands commitment and goes into little fits when he disappoints. Patrick is having an affair with Victoria’s BFF Courtney (Morgan Weed), who breaks it off to marry the office homosexual, who’s been hitting on Patrick. Even his mother is in the mix of confusion. Mrs. Bateman (Alice Ripley) wishes he’d marry Jean (Jennifer Damiano), his loyal but somewhat frumpy secretary, who adores him. In fact, Patrick advises Jean to wear dress and high heels, which he prefers, to work. She complies, adoringly. But Patrick would rather watch gory horror movies than deal with anyone on a personal level. When he turns 27, Patrick finally breaks down. His homicidal rage grows out of control. He finally confesses to Detective Donald Kimball (Keith Randolph Smith) that not only has he killed Paul, but also a slew of other people. American Psycho is skillfully done on every level. Front and center of it all, Benjamin Walker is nothing short of brilliant as self-obsessed Patrick Bateman. He very nearly bares it all, spending a good part of the evening in only his white briefs. His body is perfectly toned, his chest is hairless, and he projects a preternaturally cool confidence. His Patrick is superhuman, and fortunately, Walker backs up the bravado with a terrific voice, excellent dancing, and a laser focus on the job at hand. He has Velcro in abundance; you just can’t take your eyes off him, even for a moment. The other executives around Patrick bring equal energy and consummate skill to their roles. Both Jennifer Damiano and Alice Ripley more than ably play secondary roles; it would have been gratifying to see Ripley with more to do. The sets are a cold gray and cream. The costumes are right on key for the loud, flashy “Dynasty” decade. Fashion guru Tim Gunn has opined that he can find something compelling about any time period except the 1980s but here, the little black dresses are quite fetching. The dancing is frantic and muscular, and jumping on and off tables is the order of the day. The music is a mix of old and new; some golden oldies figure heavily in the action.
