All language subtitles for American.Psycho.2000.UNCUT.2160p.BluRay.Remux.eng

Our pasta this evening is squid ravioli
in a lemon grass broth

with goat cheese profiteroles,
and I also have an arugula Caesar salad.

For entrées this evening,
I have swordfish meatloaf

with onion marmalade,

rare-roasted partridge breast in
raspberry coulis with a sorrel timbale.

And grilled free-range rabbit
with herbed french fries.

Our pasta tonight is a squid ravioli
in a lemon grass broth,

and the fish tonight is grilled...

With a double espresso.

God, I hate this place.

It's a chicks' restaurant.
Why aren't we at Dorsia?

Because Bateman won't give
the majtre d' head.

Is that Reed Robinson over there?

Are you freebasing or what?
That's not Robinson.

- Well, who is it, then?
- It's Paul Allen.

That's not Paul Allen.

Paul Allen's on the other side of
the room over there.

- Who's he with?
- Some weasel from Kicker Peabody.

They don't have a good bathroom
to do coke in.

Are you sure that's Paul Allen over there?

Yes, McDoofus, I am.

He's handling the Fisher account.

Lucky bastard.

Lucky Jew bastard.

Jesus, McDermott,
what does that have to do with anything?

I've seen that bastard
sitting in his office

talking on the phone to the CEO,
spinning a fuckin' menorah.

Not a menorah. You spin a dreidel.

Oh, my God, Bateman,

you want me to fry you up
some fuckin' potato pancakes?

- Some latkes?
- No, just

cool it with the anti-Semitic remarks.

I'd forgotten.
Bateman's dating someone from the ACLU.

He's the voice of reason.
The boy next door.

Speaking of reasonable...

Only $570.

Not bad.

- A little something for the purse.
- Give her the $50.

Two Stoli on the rocks.

These aren't good anymore.

It's a cash bar.

That'll be $25.

You're a fucking ugly bitch.

I want to stab you to death,

then play around with your blood.

What can I get for you two?

I live in the American Gardens building
on West 81st Street, on the 11th floor.

My name is Patrick Bateman.

I'm 27 years old.

I believe in taking care of myself,

in a balanced diet,

in a rigorous exercise routine.

In the morning,
if my face is a little puffy,

I'll put on an ice pack
while doing my stomach crunches.

I can do 1, 000 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 ten minutes
while I prepare the rest of my routine.

I always use an aftershave 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 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.

Morning, Hamilton. Nice tan.

Aerobics class, sorry. Any messages?

Ricky Harrison has to cancel.

He didn't say what
he was canceling or why.

I occasionally box with Ricky
at the Harvard Club. Anyone else?

Spencer wants to meet for drinks
at Flutie's Pier 17.

- When?
- After 6:00.

Negative. Cancel it.

And what should I say?

Just say no.

Just say no?

Okay, Jean,

I need reservations
for three at Camols at 12:30,

and if not there, try Crayons, all right?

Yes, sir.

Wait, and I need reservations for two

at Arcadia at 8:00 on Thursday.

Something romantic?

No...

Silly.

Forget it, I'll make them.

- No, I'll do it.
- No, no.

Be a doll and just get me a mineral water,
okay?

You look nice today.

Don't wear that outfit again.

What? I didn't hear you.

I said, "Do not wear that outfit again."

Wear a dress, a skirt or something.

You don't like this, I take it?

Come on, you're prettier than that.

Thanks, Patrick.

I'm not here.

And high heels.

I like high heels.

Feathered Friends for 600.

During courtship, the male frigatebird

inflates to enormous size
the red pouch found here.

Thousands of roses,

and lots of chocolate truffles,

Godiva, and oysters on the half shell...

I'm trying to listen to
the new Robert Palmer tape,

but Evelyn, my supposed fiancée,

keeps buzzing in my ear.

Annie Leibovitz.
We'll get Annie Leibovitz.

And we'll have to get
someone to videotape.

Patrick, we should do it.

Do what?

Get married. Have a wedding.

No, I can't take the time off work.

Your father practically owns the company.
You can do anything you like.

I don't want to talk about it.

You hate that job anyway.

I don't see why you just don't quit.

Because I want to fit in.

Williams party.

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.

Patrick, this is my cousin Vanden
and her boyfriend, Stash.

They're both artists.

- The menu is in Braille.
- I see you've met everyone.

You look awesome.

Okay, all right.

I'm fairly certain that Timothy Bryce
and Evelyn are having an affair.

Timothy is the only
interesting person I know.

I'm almost completely indifferent

as to whether Evelyn knows
I'm having an affair

with Courtney Rawlinson,
her closest friend.

Courtney is almost perfect-looking.

She's usually operating on
one or more psychiatric drugs.

Tonight, I believe it's Xanax.

More disturbing than her drug use, though,

is the fact that she's engaged
to Luis Carruthers,

the biggest doofus in the business.

Tell me, Stash,

do you think Soho
is becoming too commercial?

Yes, I read that.

Who gives a rat's ass?

Hey, that affects us.

Oh.

Well, what about the massacres
in Sri Lanka, honey?

Doesn't that affect us, too?

I mean, do you know
anything about Sri Lanka?

How, like, the Sikhs are killing
like tons of Israelis over there?

Come on, Bryce.

There are a lot more important problems
than Sri Lanka to worry about.

Like what?

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.

Patrick...

how thoughtful of you.

Hello.

Hello.

Bleach-ee?
Are you trying to say "bleaching"?

Bleach-ee. Oh, my God. Two things.

One, you can't bleach a Cerruti.
Out of the question.

Two, I can only get
these sheets in Santa Fe.

These are very expensive sheets
and I really need them clean.

If you don't shut your fucking mouth,

I will kill you.

I have a lunch meeting at Hubert's
in 20 minutes with Ronald Harrison,

and I need those sheets clean
by this afternoon.

Listen, I cannot understand you!

This is crazy. You're a fool.

I can't cope with this. Stupid bitch-ee!

Understand?

Patrick?

Hi, Patrick. I thought that was you.

Hello, missus.

Isn't it ridiculous coming
all the way up here?

But they really are the best.

Then why can't they get these stains out?

I mean, can you talk to
these people or something?

I'm not getting anywhere.

What are those?

Well, it's cranberry juice. Cranapple.

Really?

Listen, if you could talk to them,

I would really appreciate it.
I'm really late.

I have a lunch appointment
at Hubert's in 15 minutes.

Hubert's? That moved uptown, right?

Well, oh, boy, listen, I've gotta go.

Thank you, Victoria.

Maybe we could do lunch one day next week?

I don't know, Victoria.
I'm at work all the time.

What about a Saturday?

- Next Saturday?
- Sure.

Can't, I'm afraid.
I have a matinee of Les Mis.

I really got to go...

I'll... Christ. I'll call you.

Okay. Do.

Listen, you're dating Luis.
He's in Arizona.

You're fucking me,
and we haven't made plans.

What could you possibly be up to tonight?

Stop it. I'm...

On a lot of lithium?

Waiting for Luis to call me.

He said he'd call tonight.

Pumpkin...

Pumpkin, you're dating an asshole.

Pumpkin, you're dating
the biggest dickweed in New York.

Pumpkin, you're dating a tumbling,
tumbling dickweed.

Patrick, stop calling me pumpkin, okay?

I have to go.

Courtney!

- Dinner.
- I can't!

I'm thinking Dorsia.

Dorsia's nice.

Wear something fabulous.

Dorsia.

Yes, I know it's a little late,

but is it possible
to reserve a table for two

at 8:00 or 8:30, perhaps?

A facial at Elizabeth Arden,
which was really relaxing,

and then to the Pottery Barn,

where I got this little
silver muffin dish.

Is that Donald Trump's car?

God, Patrick, shut up.

You know, Courtney,
you should take some more lithium

or have a Diet Coke. Some caffeine
might get you out of this slump.

I just want a child.

Just two...

perfect...

children.

Are we here?

Yeah.

This is Dorsia?

Yes, dear.

Courtney, you're gonna have
the peanut butter soup

with smoked duck and mashed squash.

New York Matinee called it
"A playful, but mysterious little dish."

You'll love it.

And then the red snapper
with violets and pine nuts.

I think that'll follow nicely.

Thanks, Patrick.

Patrick, thanks so much
for looking after Courtney.

Dorsia, how impressive.

How on earth did you get
a reservation there?

Lucky, I guess.

That's a wonderful suit.

Don't tell me, don't tell me,
let me guess.

Valentino couture.

It looks so soft.

Your compliment was sufficient, Luis.

Hello, Halberstram. Nice tie.

How the hell are ya?

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.

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.

So how's the ransom account going, Marcus?

- It's all right.
- Really?

That's interesting. It's not,

- it's not great.
- Well, you know.

So how's Cecilia? She's a great girl.

Yeah. I'm very lucky.

Hey, Allen!

Congratulations on the Fisher account.

Thank you, Baxter.

Listen, Paul. Squash?

Call me.

- How about Friday?
- No can do.

I got an 8:30 res at Dorsia.

Great sea urchin ceviche.

Dorsia on a Friday night?
How'd he swing that?

I think he's lying.

Is that a gram?

New card. What do you think?

Very nice.

Look at that.

Picked them up from
the printer's yesterday.

- Good coloring.
- That's bone.

And the lettering is something
called Silian Rail.

It's very cool, Bateman,
but that's nothing.

Look at this.

That is really nice.

Eggshell with Romalian type.

What do you think?

Nice.

Jesus. That is really super.

How did a nitwit like you get so tasteful?

I can't believe that Bryce
prefers Van Patten's card to mine.

But wait.

You ain't seen nothing yet.

Raised lettering, pale nimbus,

white.

Impressive.

Very nice.

Let's see Paul Allen's card.

Look at that subtle off-white coloring.

The tasteful thickness of it.

Oh, my God,

it even has a watermark.

Is something wrong, Patrick?

You're sweating.

Hello.

Pat Bateman. You want some money?

Some food?

This what you need?

I'm hungry.

Yeah. Cold out, too, isn't it?

Why don't you get a job?

If you're so hungry,
why don't you get a job?

I lost my job.

Why? You drinking?

Is that why you lost it?

Insider trading?

Just joking.

Listen, what's your name?

AI.

Speak up. Come on.

- AI.
- Get a goddamn job, AI.

You got a negative attitude.

That's what's stopping you.

You gotta get your act together.

I'll help you.

You are so kind, mister.

You're kind. You're a kind man.

- It's okay.
- I can tell.

Please, you gotta tell me what to do.

You gotta help me.
I'm so cold, I'm hungry.

You know how bad you smell?

You reek of shit. Do you know that?

AI...

I'm sorry.

It's just that...

I don't know.

I don't have anything in common with you.

Thank you, mister. Thank you.

I'm cold out here.

You know what a fucking loser you are?

What?

What beautiful skin you have, Mr. Bateman.

So fine, so smooth.

I have all the characteristics
of a human being:

flesh, blood, 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 blood lust
has overflowed into my days.

I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy.

I think my mask of sanity
is about to slip.

Hey, McCoy, what do you say?

Hey, Hamilton,
have a holly, jolly Christmas.

Is Allen still handling
the Fisher account?

Of course. Who else?

Mistletoe alert. Merry X-mas, Patrick.

Merry X-mas, Harry.

- Merry Christmas.
- You're late, honey.

- No, I'm not late.
- Yes, you are.

I've been here the entire time,
you just didn't see me.

Say hello to Snowball.

Snowball says, "Merry Christmas, Patrick."

What is it?

It's a baby piggy-wiggy, isn't it?

It's a Vietnamese potbellied pig.

They make darling pets. Don't you?

Don't you?

Stop scowling, Patrick.

You're such a Grinch.

What does Mr. Grinch want for Christmas?

And don't say breast implants again.

- Allen.
- Marcus! Merry Christmas.

How you been? Workaholic, I suppose?

I haven't seen you in a while.

Hey, Hamilton!

We're going to Nell's. Limo's out front.

We should have dinner.

Maybe you could bring...

- Cecilia?
- Yes, Cecilia!

Cecilia would adore it.

Well, then let's do it, Marcus.

- Great party.
- Thanks.

Patrick, why is he calling you Marcus?

Mistletoe alert.

Marcus Halberstram for two at 7:00.

No, I want to know.

Okay, I came here for
the cilantro crawfish gumbo,

which is, after all, the only
excuse one could have for being

in this restaurant which is,

by the way, almost completely empty.

- I'm very sorry, sir.
- J&B straight, and a Corona.

- Would you like to hear...
- Double Absolut martini.

Yes, sir.

Would you like to hear the specials?

Not if you want to keep your spleen.

This is a real
beehive of activity, Halberstram.

This place is hot. Very hot.

Listen, the mud soup and charcoal arugula
are outrageous here.

Yeah, well, you're late.

Hey, I'm a child of divorce.
Give me a break.

I see they've omitted
the pork loin with lime Jell-O.

We should've gone to Dorsia.

I could have gotten us a table.

Nobody goes there anymore.

Is that Ivana Trump?

Jeez, Patrick...

I mean, Marcus...

What are you thinking?

Why would Ivana be at Texarkana?

So,

wasn't Rothschild originally
handling the Fisher account?

How'd you get it?

Well, I could tell you that, Halberstram,

but then I'd have to kill you.

I like to dissect girls.

Did you know I'm utterly insane?

Great tan, Marcus. Really impressive.

- Where do you tan?
- Salon.

I've got a tanning bed at home.
You should look into it.

And...

Cecilia... how is she?

Where is she tonight?

Cecilia is...

Well, you know Cecilia.

I think she's having dinner with

Evelyn Williams.

Evelyn.

Great ass.

Goes out with that loser Patrick Bateman.
What a dork.

Another martini, Paul?

You like Huey Lewis and the News?

They're okay.

Their early work was
a little too new wave for my taste.

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.

- Hey, Halberstram.
- Yes, Allen?

Why are there copies of
the Style section all over the place?

Do you... Do you have a dog?

A little chow or something?

No, Allen.

Is that a raincoat?

Yes, it is.

In '87, Huey released this,

Fore!, their most accomplished album.

I think their undisputed masterpiece
is "Hip To Be Square."

The song's so catchy.

Most people probably
don't listen to the lyrics.

But they should,

because it's not just about
the pleasures of conformity

and the importance of trends.

It's also a personal statement
about the band itself.

Hey, Paul!

Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now,

you fucking stupid bastard!

You fucking bastard!

He was completely naked
and he was standing

on the table, with no clothes on...

Patrick? Patrick!

Is that you?

No, Luis, it's not me. You're mistaken.

This is my very good friend,
Patrick Bateman.

Where are you going?

We're going to Nell's.

Gwendolyn's father is buying it.

Where did you get that overnight bag?

Jean Paul Gaultier.

When I get to Paul Allen's place,
I use the keys I took from his pocket

before disposing of the body.

There is a moment of sheer panic

when I realize that Paul's apartment
overlooks the park

and it's obviously
more expensive than mine.

I calm myself and move into the bedroom,

where I find his suitcase
and start to pack.

It's time for Paul to take a little trip.

Where to send the bastard?

Dallas?

Paris? Singapore?

London. I'll send the ass to London.

Hi, this is Paul.

I've been called away
to London for a few days.

Meredith, I'll call you when I get back.

Hasta la vista, baby.

What is it?

Patrick?

Yes, Jean?

There's a Mr. Donald Kimball
here to see you.

Who?

Detective Donald Kimball.

Tell him I'm at lunch.

Patrick, it's only 10:30.
I think he knows you're here.

Send him in, I guess.

Now, John, you've gotta wear clothes
in proportion to your physique.

There are definite dos and don'ts,
good buddy,

of wearing a bold-striped shirt.

A bold-striped shirt
calls for solid-colored

or discreetly patterned suits and ties.

Yes, always tip the stylist 15%.

Listen, John, I've got to go.
T. Boone Pickens just walked in.

Just joking.

No, don't tip the owner of the salon.

Okay, John? Right.

Got it.

Sorry about that.

No, I'm sorry.
I should've made an appointment.

Was that anything important?

That? Just mulling over business problems,

examining opportunities,
exchanging rumors,

spreading gossip.

Hi. I'm Donald Kimball.

Hi, Pat Bateman. Nice to meet you.

Sorry to barge in on you like this.

I know how busy you guys can get.

So, what's the...

topic of discussion?

I've been hired by Meredith Powell

to investigate the disappearance
of Paul Allen.

I see.

Paul's disappearance, yeah.

So it's nothing that official.

I just have some basic questions
about Paul Allen,

- about yourself...
- Coffee?

No, I'm okay.

- Apollinaris?
- No, I'm okay.

Can you bring Mr...

- Kimball.
- Mr. Kimball a bottle of Apollin...

- No, really, I'm okay.
- It's no problem.

So, what's the topic of discussion?

The disappearance of Paul Allen.

Right.

Well, I haven't...

I haven't heard anything about
the disappearance or anything,

not on Page Six, at least.

I think his family wants this kept quiet.

Understandable. Lime?

No, no, really, I'm okay.

You sure? I can always get you a lime.

Just some preliminary questions
that I need for my own files, okay?

Shoot.

- How old are you?
- Twenty-seven.

Where did you go to school?

Harvard, then Harvard Business School.

Your address?

The American Gardens building,
West 81 st Street.

Nice. Very nice.

Thanks.

What can you tell me about Paul Allen?

I'm at a loss.

He was part of that whole Yale thing.

- "Yale thing"?
- Yeah, Yale thing.

What do you mean, "Yale thing"?

Well, I think for one that
he was probably a closet homosexual

who did a lot of cocaine.

That "Yale thing."

What kind of man was he?

Besides the information
you've just given me.

I hope I'm not being cross-examined here.

Do you feel like that?

No, not really.

Where did Paul hang out?

- Hang out?
- Yeah, you know, hang out.

Let me think.

The Newport, Harry's,

Flutie's, Indochine,

Nell's, the Cornell Club,

the New York Yacht Club.

He had a yacht?

No, he just hung out there.

And where did he go to school?

Don't you know this?

I just wanted to know if you know.

Before Yale, if I remember correctly,
Saint Paul's.

Listen, I just...

I just want to help.

I understand.

Do you have any witnesses or fingerprints?

Well, there's a message
on his answering machine

that says he went to London.

Maybe he did, huh?

- His girlfriend doesn't think so.
- But has anyone seen him in London?

Actually, yes,

but I've had a hard time getting
actual verification.

A Stephen Hughes said
he saw him at a restaurant there.

But I checked it out, and what happened is

he mistook a Herbert Ainsworth for Paul,
so...

Had his apartment been burglarized?

No, actually, it hadn't.

Toiletries were missing, a suit was gone,
so was some luggage. That's it.

I mean, no one's dealing with
the homicide squad yet or anything, right?

No, not yet. As I said, we're not sure.

Basically,
no one's seen or heard anything.

So typical, isn't it?

It's just strange.

One day someone's walking around,

going to work, alive, and then...

Nothing.

People just disappear.

The Earth just opens up and swallows them.

Eerie.

Really eerie.

Listen, you'll have to excuse me.

I have a lunch meeting with Cliff Huxtable
at the Four Seasons in 20 minutes.

The Four Seasons?

Isn't that a little far uptown?

I mean, aren't you going to be late?

No, there's one down here.

- Really? I didn't know that.
- Yes. It's very good.

Listen,

if anything else occurs to you,
any information...

Absolutely. I'm 100% with you.

Great, and...

thanks for your time, Mr. Bateman.

- Bye-bye.
- Goodbye.

I haven't seen you around here.

You just haven't been looking.

Would you like to see my apartment?

I'm not supposed to.

Do you want to come to
my apartment or not?

I'm not supposed to,
but I can make an exception.

Do you take a credit card?

I'm joking.

Come on, get in.

I'd like a girl, early 20s, blonde,

who does couples. Couples.

And I really can't stress blonde enough.

Blonde.

I'm Paul.

My name's Paul Allen.

You got that?

You're Christie.

You're to respond only to Christie.

Is that clear?

That's a very fine Chardonnay
you're drinking.

I want you to clean your vagina.

No.

From behind.

Get on your knees.

You have a very nice body.

Thank you. Send her up.

Christie, get out and dry off,

choose a robe,

Not the Bijan,

and come and meet me and our guest
in the living room for drinks.

You've arrived! How lovely.

Let me take your coat.

I'm Paul.

How good of you to come.

Not quite blonde, are you?

More dirty blonde.

I'm gonna call you Sabrina.

I'm Paul Allen.

So...

don't you want to know what I do?

No.

No. Not really.

Well,

I work on Wall Street.

At Pierce & Pierce.

Have you heard of it?

You have a really nice place here, Paul.

How much did you pay for it?

Well, actually,

that's none of your business, Christie.

But I can assure you,

it certainly wasn't cheap.

No. No smoking. Not in here.

Varda truffle?

I don't want you to get drunk, but

that's a very fine Chardonnay

you're not drinking.

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.

It was too artsy, too intellectual.

It was on Duke where

Phil Collins' presence
became more apparent.

I think invisible Touch

is 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.

Christie,

take off the 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,

sheer songwriting,

this album hits a new peak
of professionalism.

Sabrina, why don't you 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.

Christie,

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.

Look at the camera.

Christie, look at the camera.

Don't touch the watch.

Can we go now?

We're not through yet.

If they have a good personality
and they're not great-looking,

then who fuckin' cares?

Just say, hypothetically, okay,
what if they have a good personality?

I know, I know...

There are no girls
with good personalities.

A good personality consists of
a chick with a little hard body

who'll satisfy all sexual demands
without being too slutty about things,

and will essentially keep
her dumb fucking mouth shut.

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.
- Absolutely.

And this is because they have to make up
for how fucking unattractive they are.

Do you know what Ed Gein said about women?

Ed Gein? Maître d' at Canal Bar?

No. Serial killer. Wisconsin in the '50s.

- And what did Ed say?
- He said,

"When I see a pretty girl
walking down the street,

I think two things.

One part of me wants to take her out
and talk to her,

be real nice and sweet
and treat her right."

And what did the other part of him think?

What her head would look like on a stick.

Hi, guys.

I want to get your opinion on something.

It's my business card.

I decided to get a new one, too.

That's...

Very nice, Luis.

Thank you.

Listen, what about dinner?

Is that all you ever have to contribute,
Van Patten?

"What about fucking dinner?"

Cheer up there, Bateman.

What's the matter,
no shiatsu this mornin'?

Touch me again like that,
and you'll draw back a stump.

- Hold on there, little buddy.
- Excuse me.

God. Patrick.

Why here?

I've seen you looking at me.

I've noticed...

your...

hot body.

Don't be shy.

You can't imagine how long
I've wanted this,

ever since that Christmas party
at Arizona 206.

You know the one.

You were wearing that red-striped
paisley Armani tie.

I want you.

I want you, too.

- Patrick!
- What is it?

Where are you going?

I've gotta return some videotapes.

Patrick!

Okay, Monday? The 20th.

Monday? That's...

- Any Paul Allen?
- Reservation... no.

- No reservation, but...
- Kimball.

I've been wanting to talk with you.
Come into my office.

Jean, great jacket. Matsuda?

Do you remember where you were
the night of Paul's disappearance?

Which was on the 20th of December?

God.

I guess I was probably
returning videotapes.

I had a date with a girl named Veronica.

That's not what I've got.

What?

That's not the information I've received.

Well, I... Wait.

What information have you received?

Let me see.

- You were with...
- Well, I could be wrong.

When was the last time
you were with Paul Allen?

We'd gone to a new musical called

Oh, Africa, Brave Africa.

It was a laugh riot.

That was about it.

I think we had dinner at Orso's.

No, Petal... No, Orso's.

I hope I've been informative.
Long day. Bit scattered.

I'm a little spent now, too.

But...

how about lunch in a week or so?

When I've sorted out all this information.

Great. Yes, I'd like that.

And if you could try and pin down
where you were

the night of Paul Allen's disappearance,
it would make my job a lot easier.

Absolutely. I'm with you on that one.

Huey Lewis And The News.

Great stuff.

I just bought it on my way here.
You heard it?

Never.

I mean, I don't really like singers.

Not a big music fan, huh?

No, I like music.

Just, they're...

Huey's too black-sounding for me.

To each his own.

So...

Lunch next week?

I'll be there.

Will you call me before Easter?

Maybe.

What are you doing tonight?

Dinner at River Café.

Au Bar afterwards, maybe.

That's nice.

I never knew you smoked.

You never noticed.

Listen,

Patrick...

can we talk?

You look

marvelous.

There's nothin' to say.

You're gonna marry Luis.

Isn't that special.

Patrick...

Yes, Courtney?

If I don't see you before Easter,

have a nice one, okay?

You, too.

Patrick?

Yeah?

Nothing.

There's this theory now that
if you can catch the AIDS virus

through having sex with someone,
then you can catch anything.

Alzheimer's, muscular dystrophy,

hemophilia, leukemia, diabetes, dyslexia.

I'm not sure,
but I don't think dyslexia's a virus.

Who knows? They don't know that.

Prove it.

- Oh, God!
- What?

There's a fucking milligram of sweetener.

I wanna get high off this, Bateman,
not sprinkle it on my fucking oatmeal.

It's definitely weak, but I have a feeling
if we do enough of it, we'll be okay.

Can you keep it down?
I'm trying to do drugs.

Fuck you!

Calm down. Do it anyway.

That's right.

That is, if the fag in
the next stall thinks it's okay!

- Fuck you!
- Hey, fuck you!

Sorry, dude. Steroids.

Okay, let's do it.

Where did Craig go?

Well, Gorbachev is downstairs.

McDermott went to sign a peace treaty
between the United States and Russia.

He's the one behind glasnost, you know.

He said he was in
mergers and acquisitions.

You're not confused, are you?

No, not really.

Gorbachev is not downstairs.

Karen's right. Gorbachev's not downstairs.

He's at Tunnel.

Ask me a question.

So, what do you do?

I'm into

murders and executions, mostly.

Do you like it?

Well, it depends.

Why?

Well, most guys I know who work
in mergers and acquisitions

really don't like it.

So...

where do you work out?

You think I'm dumb, don't you?

What?

You think I'm dumb.
You think all models are dumb.

No.

I really don't.

That's okay. I don't mind.

There's something sweet about you.

Doin' the crossword?

You need any help?

Jean?

Yes, Patrick?

Would you like to accompany me to dinner?

That is,

if you're not doing anything.

No. No, I don't have any plans.

Well...

isn't this a coincidence.

Listen, where should we go?

Anywhere you want.

Let's not think about what I want.

How about anywhere you want?

I don't know, Patrick.
I can't make this decision.

Come on.

Where do you want to go?

Anywhere you want.

Just say it. I can get us in anywhere.

What about...

Dorsia?

So.

Dorsia is where Jean wants to go.

I don't know.

No, we'll go wherever you want to go.

Dorsia is fine.

Dorsia. Yes?

Yeah, can you take two tonight
at, let's say, 9:00?

We're totally booked.

Really? That's great.

No, I said we are totally booked.

Two at 9:00? Perfect.

See you then.

Yeah?

You're...

dressed okay.

You didn't give a name.

They know me.

Why don't you meet me at my place?

At 7:00. For drinks.

And, Jean?

We'll want to change before we go out.

Patrick, it's so elegant.

What a wonderful view.

Jean...

Sorbet?

Thanks, Patrick. I'd love some.

Do you want a bite?

I'm on a diet. But thank you.

You don't need to lose any weight.

You're kidding, right?

You look great. Very fit.

You can always be thinner,

look better.

Well, maybe we shouldn't go out to dinner.

I don't want to ruin your willpower.

No, it's all right.

I'm not very good
at controlling it anyway.

So, listen...

What do you really want
to do with your life?

Just briefly. Summarize. And

don't tell me you enjoy
working with children, okay?

Well,

I'd like to travel and

maybe go back to school, but

I don't really know.

I'm at a point in my life
where there seems to be

so many possibilities.

But I don't know. I'm just so unsure.

Do you have a boyfriend?

No, not really.

Interesting.

Are you seeing anyone?

I mean, seriously?

Maybe.

I don't know.

Not really.

Jean?

Do you feel fulfilled?

I mean, in your life?

I guess I do.

For a long time,
I was too focused on my work.

But now I've really begun
to think about changing myself.

You know, developing and growing.

Growing.

I'm glad you said that.

Did you know that

Ted Bundy's first dog, a collie,

was named Lassie?

Had you heard this?

Who's Ted Bundy?

Forget it.

What's that?

Duct tape.

I need it for...

taping something.

Patrick?

Have you ever wanted to

make someone happy?

What? No! Put it in the carton!

Sorry.

Jean?

What?

Make someone happy.

Have you ever wanted to?

I'm looking for...

I guess you could say I just want
to have a meaningful relationship

with someone special.

Patrick. Patrick.

I know you're there.

Pick up the phone, you bad boy.

What are you up to tonight?

It's me. Don't try to hide.

I hope you're not out there
with some little number you picked up,

because you're mine, Mr. Bateman.

My boy next door.

Anyway you never called me,
and you said you would.

And I'll leave a message for Jean
about this, too, to remind you,

but we're having dinner
with Melania and Taylor.

You know Melania. She went to Sweet Briar.

And we're meeting at the Cornell Club,

so I'll call you tomorrow morning, honey.

Sorry. I know you hate that.

Bye, Patrick. Bye, Mr. Big Time CEO.

Bye-bye.

Was that Evelyn?

Are you still seeing her?

I'm sorry. I have no right to ask that.

Do you want me to go?

Yeah.

I don't think I can control myself.

I know I should go.

I know I have a tendency to get involved
with unavailable men.

I mean...

Do you want me to go?

I think if you stay,

something bad will happen.

I think I might hurt you.

You don't want to get hurt, do you?

No. No, I guess not.

I don't want to get bruised.

You're right.

I should go.

Don't forget you have
a lunch date tomorrow

with Donald Kimball
at Smith and Wollensky's.

Thanks.

It slipped my mind completely.

So.

The night he disappeared.

Any new thoughts about what you did?

Not sure.

I had a shower,

and some sorbet.

I think you're getting
your dates mixed up.

But how?

Where do you place

Paul that night?

According to his datebook,
and this was verified by his secretary,

he had dinner with Marcus Halberstram.

- And?
- I questioned him.

- Marcus?
- Yes, and he denies it.

Though, at first, he couldn't be sure.

- But he denied it.
- Yes.

Well, does Marcus have an alibi?

Yes.

He does? You're sure?

I've checked it out. It's clean.

Now...

where were you?

Where was Marcus?

He wasn't with Paul Allen.

Who was he with?

He was at Atlantis

with Craig McDermott,

Frederick Dibble,

Harry Newman, George Butner, and...

you.

Right, yeah. Of course.

We had wanted Paul Allen to come,

but he had made plans,

and I guess I had dinner with Victoria
the following night.

Personally, I think the guy
went a little nutso.

Split town for a while.
Maybe he did go to London,

sightseeing, drinking, whatever.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure
he'll turn up sooner or later.

I mean, to think that one of
his friends killed him

for no reason whatsoever
would be too ridiculous.

Isn't that right, Patrick?

Christie, Christie.

I'm not so sure about this.

I had to go to emergency after last time.

This won't be anything like last time.

- I promise.
- I don't think so.

Just come in the limo
and talk to me for a minute.

Driver's here. You're safe.

Nothing like last time. I promise.

All right.

So you're looking great.

How've you been?

Well, I actually might need
a little surgery after last time.

Really?

My friend told me I should maybe
even get a lawyer.

Lawyers are so complicated.

Don't do that.

Here's a check.

Half now, half later.

Okay.

Your name's Christie.

We're meeting a friend of mine, Elizabeth.

She'll be joining us
in my new apartment shortly.

You'll like her.

She's a very nice girl.

You look really familiar.

Did you go to Dalton?

I think I met you at
the Surf Bar, didn't I?

With Spicey?

Well, maybe not with Spicey,
but definitely at Surf Bar.

You know, Surf Bar?

Anyway, Surf Bar sucks now. It's terrible.

Went to a birthday party there
for Malcolm Forbes.

Oh, my God, please.

This is nicer than your other apartment.

Well, it's not that nice.

Where did you two meet?

Oh, God. We met at...

Oh, God, at the Kentucky Derby
in '85 or '86.

You were hanging out
with that bimbo Allison Poole.

Hot number.

What do you mean?

She was a hot number.

Get a platinum card,
she'd give you a blow job.

Listen, this girl worked
at a tanning salon.

Need I say more?

What do you do?

She's my

cousin.

She's from

France.

Where's your phone?
I've gotta call Harley.

Where do you summer? Southampton?

No.

Oh, God. It's his machine.

Elizabeth, it's 3:00 in the morning.

He's a goddamn drug dealer.
These are his peak hours.

- Don't tell him you're here.
- Why would I?

This tastes weird.

Harley, it's me. I need your services.

Translate that however you want.

I'm at...

- You're at Paul Allen's.
- Who?

- Paul Allen.
- I want the number, idiot.

Anyway, I'm at Paul Norman's,
and I'll try you again later.

If I don't see you at
Canal Bar tomorrow night,

I'll sic my hair dresser on you.

Did you know that guy who disappeared?

Didn't he work at Pierce & Pierce?
Was he a friend of yours?

No.

Do you have any coke?

Or Halcion? I would take a Halcion.

Listen.

I would just like to see

the two of you

get it on.

What's wrong with that?

It's totally disease-free.

Patrick, you're a lunatic.

Come on.

Don't you find Christie attractive?

Let's not get lewd.

I'm in no mood for a lewd conversation.

Come on.

I think it'd be a turn-on.

Does he do this all the time?

Christie, you're not drinking your wine.

You're telling me you've never
gotten it on with a girl?

No.

I'm not a lesbian.

Why would you think I would be into that?

Well, you went to Sarah Lawrence,
for one thing.

Those are Sarah Lawrence guys, Patrick.

You're making me feel weird.

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?

You actually listen to Whitney Houston?

You own a Whitney Houston CD?

More than one?

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.

Not the face, you bitch!

Not the fuckin' face,
you piece of bitch trash!

I want a firm commitment.

I think, Evelyn,

that we've lost touch.

Why? What's wrong?

My need to engage in homicidal behavior

on a massive scale cannot be corrected,

but I have no other way
to fulfill my needs.

We need to talk.

Talk about what, Patrick?

It's over, Evelyn.

It's all over.

Touchy, touchy.

I'm sorry I brought up the wedding.

Let's just avoid the issue, all right?

Now, are we having coffee?

I'm fucking serious.
It's fucking over. Us.

This is no joke.

I don't think we should see
each other anymore.

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...

I know that your friends are my friends,

and I've thought about that.

You can have them.

You're really serious, aren't you?

Yes, I am.

What about the past?

- Our past?
- We never really shared one.

- You're inhuman.
- No, I'm in touch with humanity.

Evelyn, I'm sorry.

I just...

You're not terribly important to me.

Oh, no.

No, no.

I know my behavior can be
erratic sometimes.

What do you want me to do?

What is it that you want?

If you really want to do something for me,
then stop making this scene right now.

- Oh, God, I can't believe this.
- I'm leaving.

I've assessed the situation,
and I'm going.

Where are you going?

Just leaving.

But where?

I have to return some videotapes.

Here, kitty, kitty.

Oh, my God. What are you doing?

Stop that.

Drop the weapon! Drop it now!

Get on the ground! Put...

Burning the midnight oil, Mr. Smith?

Hey, now don't forget to sign in.

Harold, it's Bateman, Patrick Bateman.

You're my lawyer,
so I think you should know

I've killed a lot of people.

Some escort girls in the apartment uptown,

some homeless people, maybe five or ten,

an NYU girl I met in Central Park.

I left her in a parking lot
behind some doughnut shop.

I killed Bethany,
my old girlfriend, with a nail gun,

and some man,

some faggot with a dog.

Last week, I killed another girl

with a chain saw.

I had to.

She almost got away,

and...

Someone else there. I can't remember.

Maybe a model.

She's dead, too,

and Paul Allen.

I killed Paul Allen
with an ax 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.

Some of the girls have seen the tapes.

I even...

I ate some of their brains...

and I tried to cook a little.

Tonight I...

I just had to kill a lot of people,

and...

I'm not sure

I'm gonna get away with it this time.

So, I mean...

I guess...

I'm a pretty...

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.

Are you my 2:00?

No.

Can I help you?

I'm looking for...

Paul Allen's place.

Doesn't he live here?

No, he doesn't.

You sure?

You saw the ad in the Times?

No.

Yeah. I mean, yeah.

In the Times.

There was no ad in the Times.

I think you should go now.

But I think...

I want to know what happened here.

Don't make any trouble, please.

I suggest you go.

Don't come back.

I won't.

Don't worry.

Patrick Bateman's office.

Jean?

- I need help.
- Patrick, is that you?

Jean, I'm not...

Craig McDermott called.

Wants to meet you, David Van Patten
and Tim Bryce at Harry's for drinks.

Oh, God.

What did you say, you dumb bitch?

Patrick, I can't hear you.

What am I doing?

Where are you, Patrick? What's wrong?

I don't think I'm gonna make it, Jean,

to the office this afternoon.

Why?

Just say no!

What is it, Patrick? Are you all right?

Stop sounding so fucking sad!

Jesus!

Table for three.

Bateman, you look a little wild-eyed.
Rough day at the office?

Hey, look, Bryce is back,
and he's drinking mineral water.

He's a changed man except he still can't
get a reservation to save his life.

Why don't you just try 150 Wooster?

I'm not going anywhere
unless we have a reservation.

Le Cirque, Flamingo East, Oyster Bar.

Come on, faggots, let's get a res.

Keep your shirt on.

Maybe lose the suspenders.

Need a reservation for 8:30.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Right back.

10:00 would not be any good, no.

Just fucking call them.

- Give me the phone. I'll do it.
- I'll call ya back.

Face it. The Japanese will
own most of this country

- by the end of the '90s.
- Shut up, Carnes.

They will not.

So, Harold,

did you get my message?

Jesus, yes. That was hilarious.

That was you, wasn't it?

Yeah, naturally.

Bateman killing Allen
and the escort girls.

That's fabulous. That's rich.

What exactly do you mean?

The message you left.

By the way, Davis, how's Cynthia?

You're still seeing her, right?

Wait, Harold. What do you mean?

Excuse me. Nothing.

It's good to see you.

Is that Edward Towers?

Davis.

I'm not one to badmouth anyone.

Your joke was amusing,

but come on, man.

You had one fatal flaw.

Bateman is such a dork.

Such a boring, spineless lightweight.

Now if you said Bryce or McDermott...

Otherwise, it was amusing.

Now if you'll excuse me,
I really must be going.

Wait.

Stop.

I did it, Carnes.

I killed him.

I'm Patrick Bateman.

I chopped Allen's fucking head off.

The whole message I left
on your machine was true.

Excuse me.

I really must be going now.

No, listen.

Don't you know who I am?

I'm not Davis.

I'm Patrick Bateman.

We talk on the phone all the time.

Don't you recognize me?

You're my lawyer.

Now, Carnes...

listen.

Listen very, very carefully.

I killed Paul Allen...

and I liked it.

I can't make myself any clearer.

But that's simply not possible.

And I don't find this funny anymore.

It never was supposed to be.

- Why isn't it possible?
- It's just not.

Why not, you stupid bastard?

Because I had dinner with
Paul Allen twice in London,

- just ten days ago.
- No, you...

didn't.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

We've seen the results of that mistrust

in the form of lies, divisions,
and mistakes.

We need to find a way to cooperate

while realizing foreign policy

can't be run by committee.

And I believe there's now
the growing sense

that we can accomplish
more by cooperating.

And, in the end,

this may be the eventual
blessing in disguise

to come out of the Iran-Contra mess.

How can he lie like that?

- How can he pull that shit?
- What shit?

Now where do we have reservations at?

I mean, I'm not really hungry, but
I'd like to have reservations someplace.

How can you be so fucking...

I don't know...

cool about it?

Some guys are just born cool, I guess.

Bateman.

What are you so fucking zany about?

I'm just a happy camper.

Rockin' and a-rollin'!

Oh, brother! Look,

he presents himself
as this harmless old codger, but

inside...

But inside...

But inside doesn't matter.

Inside? Yes? Inside?

Believe it or not, Bryce,
we're actually listening to you.

Come on, Bateman,

what do you think?

Whatever.

Whose moronic idea was it
to order dry beers?

I need a scotch.

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.