Now, this is where we truly step into Patrick Bateman’s world. Let’s go act by act, breaking down the major scenes, hidden details, symbolism, and what they mean in the BIGGER picture. American Psycho isn’t just a movie about a serial killer, it’s a philosophical, existential, and satire of detachment from reality. Every shot, every line of dialogue, and every meticulously crafted frame is saying something more than what’s on the surface.
The film opens with an illusion.
At first glance, it looks like blood dripping onto a plate, a haunting foreshadowing of the violence to come. But when the camera zooms out, we realize, it’s just fancy red sauce in a high-end restaurant. This immediately establishes one of the film’s core themes: appearances are deceiving. What seems like horror at first is actually just an expensive meal, just as what seems like Bateman’s perfect life is actually a carefully constructed facade.
Then we meet Patrick Bateman in his luxurious, clinically sterile apartment, delivering one of the most iconic monologues in the film: his morning routine.
Bateman’s narration is cold, meticulous, and unnervingly specific. He goes into detail about his skincare regimen, diet, and exercise routine, explaining that his goal is to maintain an impeccable exterior. He even states:
"There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me."
This moment is everything. It tells us right away that Bateman doesn’t see himself as a real person, only as an image, a performance. His entire existence is about projecting perfection, but underneath, there is nothing. He is the ultimate hollow man.
The film’s comedic and ironic tone kicks in quickly. Bateman and his colleagues frequent exorbitantly expensive dinner spots, but they are completely interchangeable, they dress the same, talk the same, and even confuse each other’s names. It’s one of the film’s most brilliant commentaries: these men, who are supposedly powerful and influential, are so devoid of individuality that they can’t even recognize each other.
But for me, the moment that truly defines Act I is the legendary business card scene.
It starts simple enough: a few investment bankers showing off their business cards. But to Bateman, this is war. As each new card is revealed, we see his fake confidence begin to crumble. When Paul Allen reveals his card, bone white, Silian Rail font, with a subtle watermark. Bateman’s hands begin to shake**.** His breathing becomes shallow. Sweat forms on his brow.
It’s absurd lol. It’s a business card, and yet he’s reacting as if he’s just witnessed a murder. And that’s the point, the real horror of this movie isn’t Bateman’s killings, it’s his fragile ego. The idea that something as trivial as a slightly better business card could send him spiraling tells us everything we need to know: Patrick Bateman is so empty inside that even the smallest dent to his image feels like life and death.
Metaphor: The business cards are a metaphor for identity and status in corporate America. The cards are pristine, but the men behind them are soulless clones, obsessed with meaningless superiority.
After Bateman loses his mind over the business cards, we see him in a dimly lit nightclub, completely in his element. He’s dancing, acting normal, but when the bartender tells him his drink ticket isn’t valid, he leans in close and whispers: