American Psycho

Let's start with the book, because I hadn't seen the movie in, what, seven years? And I just read the book.
Here's the thing. The book is a chore to get through. It really is. It's told from the perspective of Patrick Batemen, and he and I have nothing in common. Zero. Zilch. But there are some things he talks about that are more interesting than others.
What he's most interested in has nothing to do with my way of life, interests, general thoughts or knowledge base. He knows what you should wear, how you should look, what your hair would be like, and what color/typeface you should present with your card. And, if I may, be fucking honest for a minute, this shit is a bitch to read through. I don't care what everyone in the room is wearing, Pat. I don't even have the closest idea to how that measures up to your clothes - which you describe in excruciating detail in EVERY SINGLE FUCKING SCENE. This book is skimcentral. You gloss over every detail of clothing that everyone is wearing and you delve into his mind - the interesting part.

Someone said it was more clear that everything happens in the guy's head in the book. I don't think so. I mean, maybe in the sense that he gets away with a lot more. You get about halfway through the book and then things get real fucked up before going right back to talking about suits and cufflinks and sweatervests and cocaine. All of which I'm not associated with. (At least anymore, on the last front.)

The thing about this book, is that when it's good, it's really good. And not even in the sense of the violence, but in sense of the character. The clothing is important to him, sure, but there's a clear line drawn very early on, it makes sense. On the flipside, when you really get to know Pat Batemen, when he really has to react to a bizarre world, or when the world has to react to him, it's very interesting. It has some of the more interesting and entertaining and draining scenes I've ever seen in novels - but again, you find yourself skimming a lot. I'm not rich, nor do I live in the 80's, I don't care, I care about your psychosis.

And now we move onto the movie. The movie is the movie. It's a very bizarre blend of the beginning, middle and end of the book at all times, but the way it's presented, you kind of get the sense that this is the best representation of the book a movie could do. You get lines from the beginning of the movie at the end, lines from the end of the movie at the beginning, and lines from the middle sprinkled throughout. It's almost disorienting, but it's almost, keyword almost as effective. And none of it really has anything to do with the violence. It has to do with a rich, privileged man losing his grip with reality. And it's mostly painful and sad. The parts that hit you hard, hit you hard. The parts that don't either bore you or make you ask the age old question; "what the fuck?"

In short; read the book? If you can? I dunno. I have to return some videotapes.