Bret Easton Ellis’ 1991 novel, American Psycho, was a groundbreaking work that made its author a star. The book was made into a 2000 film starring Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman. The film has an extremely dark sense of humor and appeals to horror fans. The music in the film is legendary. One of the famous songs that is featured in the film is “Hip to Be Square” by Huey Lewis and the News. All of these quotes demonstrate the strange sensibility of American Psycho and may make you squirm while they make you think. (Image Credit)
All it comes down to is this: I feel like shit, but look great.
Whitney Houston is one of the warmest and most complex and altogether satisfying rhythm-and-blues records.
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 humor.
I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, 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.
I’m into, uh, well, murders and executions, mostly.
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.
No… I’m in touch with humanity.
I know that your friends are my friends and, uh… I’ve thought about that. You can have ’em.
Do you like Huey Lewis and The News?
I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
Feed me a stray cat.
TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW, YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTARD! YOU, FUCKING BASTARD!
I’m trying to listen to the new Robert Palmer tape but Evelyn, my supposed fiance’ keeps buzzing in my ear.
It’s a fucking milligram of sweetener. I want to get high off this, not sprinkle it on my fucking oatmeal.
I simply am not there.
Did you know that Whitney Houston’s debut LP, called simply Whitney Houston, had four number one singles on it? Did you know that, Christie?
The things I could do to you with a coat hanger.
Not the face! You bitch! Not the fucking face, you piece of bitch trash!
My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale cannot be corrected, but, ah, I have no other way to fulfill my needs.
Come on, Bryce. There are a lot more important problems than Sri Lanka to worry about.
I’m on the verge of tears by the time we arrive at Espace, since I’m positive we won’t have a decent table. But we do, and relief washes over me in an awesome wave.
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.
I don’t want you to get drunk, but that’s a very expensive glass of Chardonnay you’re NOT drinking there. It isn’t poisoned.
Definitely weak, but I have a feeling that if we do enough of it we’ll be okay.
He was into that whole Yale thing.
I don’t think we should see each other anymore.
Oh, my God. Bateman, do you want me to fry you up some fucking potato pancakes? Some latkes?
I like to dissect girls. Did you know I’m utterly insane?
In fact some, if they noticed my absence, might feel an odd, indefinable sense of relief.
Jesus. That is really super. How’d a nitwit like you get so tasteful?
Howard, 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, I may show up at Harry’s Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.
Not if you want to keep your spleen.
That’s okay. I’m not very good at controlling it anyway.
But your friends are my friends and my friends are your friends. I really don’t think it would work. You have a little something…
What, your kidding, right? You look great… so fit… and thin.
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 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.
Well, you can always look thinner.
If they have a great personality and they’re not great looking… then who fucking cares?
I’m leaving. I’ve assessed the situation, and I’m going.
What her head would look like on a stick.
I’m fucking serious. It’s fucking over, us, this is no joke. I don’t think we should see each other any more.
And this is because they have to make up for how fucking unattractive they are.
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.
We never really shared one.
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.
I have to return some videotapes.
You’re a fucking ugly bitch. I want to stab you to death, and then play around with your blood.
I’m just a happy camper! Rockin’ and a-rollin’!
Hey, I’m a child of divorce, gimme a break!
No I’m not,” I whisper to myself. “I’m a fucking evil psychopath.
It’s very cool, Bateman…but that’s nothing. Look at this.
Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness of it. Oh, my God. It even has a watermark.
You actually listen to Whitney Houston? You own a Whitney Houston CD? More than one?
Then maybe we shouldn’t go out to dinner. I wouldn’t want you to lose your willpower
Well, for one thing, I think he was probably a closet homosexual who did a lot of cocaine. That whole Yale thing.
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.
When I see a pretty girl walking down the street, I think two things. One part wants me to take her out, talk to her, be real nice and sweet and treat her right.
That’s ‘Bone’. And the lettering is something called ‘Silian Rail’.
I’m on a diet.
Hi, this is Paul Allen. I’m being called away to London for a few days. Meredith, I’ll call you when I get back. Hasta la vista, baby.
I can’t believe that Bryce prefers Van Patten’s card to mine.
There is a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Paul’s apartment overlooks the park… and is obviously more expensive than mine.
My need to engage in homicidal behaviour on a massive scale cannot be corrected but, uh, I have no other way to fulfill my needs.
Eggshell’, with ‘Ramalian’ type. What do you think?
Why are there copies of the style section all over the place, d-do you have a dog? A little chow or something?
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.
What about the past?
I’ve forgotten who I had lunch with earlier, and even more important, where.
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 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 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 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.