All language subtitles for American Psycho EN(1)

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.

God, I hate this place.
It's a chick's restaurant.
Why aren't we at Dorsia?

Because Bateman won't give
the maitre 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, McDufus, 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 C.E.O.s,
spinnin' a fuckin' menorah.

Not a menorah.
You spin a dreidel.

Oh, my God, Bateman.

Do you want me to fry you up
some fucking potato pancakes?
Some latkes?

No, just... cool it with
the anti-Semitic remarks.

Oh, I forgot.
Bateman's dating someone
from the A.C.L.U.

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

Speaking of reasonable...
Only $570.

That's not bad.

A little something
for the purse.

Give her the 50.

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 wanna stab you to death...

and 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 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 masque,

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.

Good morning.

Good morning, Hamilton.
Nice tan.

Late.
Aerobics class. Sorry.
Any messages?

Ricky Harrison has to cancel.
He didn't say what
he was cancelling or why.

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

Spencer wants to meet
for drinks at Fluties, Pier 17.
When?

After 6:00.
And what should I say?
Negative. Cancel it.

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.

Oh, 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 frigate bird...

inflates to enormous size
the red pouch found here.

And I want
hundreds of thousands of roses.

And lots of
chocolate truffles,

Godiva, and oysters
in the half shell.

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

but Evelyn,
my supposed fianc?,
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, silly.

- I don't want to talk about it.
- I 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's in braille.

I see you've met everyone.
You look awful.

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.
Mmm. Oh.

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.
- Oh, who gives a rat's ass?

Hey, that affects us.

Well, what about the massacres
in Sri Lanka, honey?
Doesn't that affect us too?

Do you know anything about
Sri Lanka?

How, like, the Sikhs are killing
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,

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 thought provoking.

Hello.

Hello.

Bleaching? Are you
trying to say "bleaching"?

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 cleaned.

Lady, if you don't shut
your fucking mouth,
I will kill you.

Now, listen.

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

I need those sheets
cleaned by this afternoon.

Listen, I can't understand you!
This is crazy!
You're a fool.

I can't cope with this
stupid "bitchee"!

Understand?
Christ.
Patrick?

Hi, Patrick.

I thought that was you.
Hello.
This is...

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

- Oh, 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?
Oh, boy.

Listen, I've gotta go.
Thank you, Victoria.

Maybe we could do lunch
one day next week.

I'm downtown quite often.
What about a Saturday?
I'm at work all the time.

Next Saturday?
Can't, I'm afraid.
Sure.

At a matinee of Les Mis.
Listen, I really gotta go.

Oh, Christ.
I'll call you.
Okay. Do.

Listen, you're dating Lewis,
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.

Mm-hmm.
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?

Hmm?
Dinner.

I can't.
I'm thinking Dorsia.

Dorsia's nice.
Wear something fabulous.

Oh, yeah!

Dorsia.

Um, 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.

Mmm.
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.

Mmm, Valentino Couture?

Uh-huh.
Hmm.

It looks so soft.
Your compliment
was sufficient, Luis.

Hello, Halberstram.
Nice tie.
How the hell are you?

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.

- How's the Ransom account
going, Marcus?
- It's, uh, all right.

Really? That's interesting.
It's not, uh, not great.

- Oh, well, you know.
- So, how's Cecilia?

- She's a great girl.
- Oh, yeah. I'm very lucky.

- Mm-hmm.
- 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 Friday night?
How'd he swing that?

I think he's lying.

- Is that a gram?
- New card.

What do you think?

Whoa-ho.
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'd 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 nothin' yet.

Raised lettering,
pale nimbus... white.

Impressive.
Very nice.

Hmm.

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, uh, money?

Some food?

- Is this what you need?
- I'm-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?
Al.

Hmm? Speak up.
Come on.
Al.

Get a goddamn job, Al.

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 a 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?

Al.

I'm sorry.
It's just that...

I don't know.

I don't have anything
in common with you.

Oh.
Oh, 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, McCloy,
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 Xmas, Patrick.

Merry Xmas, Harry.
Merry Christmas.

You're late, honey.
Oh, yes, you are.
I'm not late.

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 little baby
piggly-wiggly, 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.

And what does Mr. Grinch
want for Christmas?

And don't say
breast implants again.

Allen.
Marcus.
Merry Christmas.

How you been?
Workaholic, I suppose?
Haven't seen you in a while.

Hey, Hamilton.
We're goin' to Nell's.
Limo's out front.

We should have dinner.
Maybe you could bring...

Cecilla?
Yes, Cecilla.

Oh, Cecilla 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've gotten us
a table.
Nobody goes there anymore.

Is that Ivana Trump?

Oh, geez, Patrick.
I mean, Marcus.
What are you thinking?

Why would Ivana
be at Texarkana?

So, uh,
wasn't Rothchild 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.
I mean, really impressive.

Where do you tan?
Salon.

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

And, uh, Cecilla.

How is she?
Where is she tonight?

Cecilla's, uh...
Well, you know Cecilla.

I think she's having dinner
with, um, 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?

Um, they're okay.

They're 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 fuckin' stupid bastard!

You fucking bastard!

He was completely naked
and standing up
on the table.

He had no clothes on
whatsoever, and he...

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.

Ooh.

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 is 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 do I send the bastard?

Dallas?

Paris? Singapore?

London? I'll send
the asshole 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
do's 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 percent.

Listen, John, I've gotta 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?

Oh, 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, uh,
topic of discussion?

I've been hired
by Meredith Powell...

to investigate the disappearance
of Paul Allen.

I see, yeah.
Paul's disappearance, yeah.

So it's nothing
that official.

- I just have some questions
about Paul Allen and yourself.
- Coffee?

- No, I'm okay.
- Apollinaris?

No, I'm okay.

Can you bring Mr...

Kimball. No, I'm okay.
Mr. Kimball
a bottle of Apollinaris.

It's no problem.

So, what's the topic
of discussion?

The disappearance
of Paul Allen.

Uh-huh, right.
Well, I, um, 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, 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.

Hold old are you?
Twenty-seven.

Where did you go
to school?
Harvard.

Then Harvard Business School.
Your address?

The American Gardens Building,
West 81st 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?

- I hope I'm not being
cross-examined here.
- You feel like that?

No, not really.

Where did Paul hang out?

Hang out?
Yeah, you know, hang out.

Let me think.
Um, the Newport, Harry's,

Fluties, 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,
St. Paul's.

Listen, I just...
I just wanna 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.

- Well, maybe he did, huh?
- His girlfriend
doesn't think so.

- But has anyone seen him
in London?
- Actually, yes.

Hmm.
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 Four Seasons in 20 minutes.

The Four Seasons?
Isn't that a little far uptown?

I mean, aren't you
gonna be late?
No, there's one down here.

Oh, really?
I didn't know that.
Yeah, it's very good.

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

Absolutely.
I'm 100 percent with you.
Great.

And thanks for your time,
Mr. Bateman.

Bye-bye.
Good-bye.

I haven't seen you around here.
You just haven't been lookin'.

- Would you like to see
my apartment?
- I'm not supposed to.

Do you wanna 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.

Mm-hmm?

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 wanna know
what I do?

No.
No, not really.

Well, I work on Wall Street...

for 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
and 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, uh, 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.

I also think that
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 fucking cares?

Let's 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 will satisfy
all sexual demands...

without being too slutty
about things...

and who 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?
- Maitre d' at Canal Bar?

- No, serial killer, Wisconsin,
in the 50s.
- And what did Ed say?

"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 wanna get your opinion
on something.

It's my business card.

I decided to get
a new one too.

Oh, it'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 morning?

Keep touching me like that,
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 video tapes.

Patrick!

Okay, London the...

London, there's, um,
a reservation...
Any Paul Allen?

No.
A reservation, but...
Kimball!

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

Jean, great jacket.
Matsuta?

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 video tapes.

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.

Well...

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, Peto...
No, Orso's.

I hope I've been informative.
Long day, a 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...

23.976

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

Never. I mean,
I don't really like singers.

Absolutely.
I'm with you on that one.

Not a big music fan, huh?
No, I like music.

Just they're...
Huey's too black sounding
for me.

Huey Lewis and the News.

To each his own.

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

So, lunch next week?

I'll be there.

Oh!

Oh!

Will you call me
before Easter?
Maybe.

What are you doing tonight?

Dinner at, uh, River Cafe.

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 nothing 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 is this theory now...
Listen to me.

There is this theory now that if
you can catch the AIDS virus...

by having sex
with someone who's infected,
then you can catch anything.

Alzheimer's,
muscular dystrophy,
hemophilia,

leukemia, diabetes,
dyslexia.

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

But who knows?
They don't know that.

Prove it.

Oh, God.
What?

It's a fucking milligram
of sweetener.
I wanna get high off this,

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.
Let's do it anyway.

That's right.

That is if the faggot
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.

- 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, uh,
well, 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.

Um, 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 wanna go?

Anywhere you want,
just say it.
I can get us in anywhere.

What about...

Dorsia?

So,

Dorsia is where
Jean wants to go.

Well, I don't know.
We'll go wherever you wanna go.

Dorsia is fine.

Dorsia. Yes?

Yeah, can you take two tonight
at, oh, 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 ya 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,

you'll wanna 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
wanna ruin your willpower.

No, it's all right.

I'm not very good
at controlling it anyway.

So listen.

What do you really
wanna 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'm... 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, uh,
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, uh,
taping something.

Patrick,

have you ever wanted to...
make someone happy?

What? No!
Put it in the carton.

Sorry.

Jean?

What?
Uh, make someone happy?

Have you ever wanted to?

I'm looking for, uh,

I guess you could say
I just wanna have
a meaningful relationship...

with someone special.
Hmm.

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 with some
little number you picked up
because you're my 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.

Oops. Sorry.
I know you hate that.

Bye, Patrick.
Bye, Mr. Big Time C.E.O.
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 wanna get hurt,
do you?

No. No, I guess not.

I don't wanna get bruised.

You're right.
I should go.

Oh. Don't forget you have a
lunch date tomorrow with Donald
Kimball at Smith and Wolenski's.

Thanks.

It slipped my mind completely.

So, the night
he disappeared...

any new thoughts
about what you did?

Not sure.
Um, 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 date book,
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 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.

Oh, 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.

The driver's here.
You'll be safe.

Nothing like last time.
Promise.

All right.

So, you're looking great.
How have you been?

Well, I actually might need
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.

Uh-uh. Half now,
half later.

Okay, your name is 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 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.

Oh, 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.

If you had a platinum card,
she'd give you a blow job. This
girl worked in a tanning salon.

What do you do?

She's my... cousin.

Uh-huh.
She's from... France.

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

Where do you summer,
South Hampton?

- No.
- Oh, God, it's his machine.

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...
- Paul Allen's.

Who?
Paul Allen's.

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

And if I don't see you at Canal
Bar tomorrow night I'm gonna
sic my hairdresser 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 Halcyon?

I would take a Halcyon.
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.

Are you 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...

and 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.

Not the face!

You bitch,
not the fucking face,
you piece of bitch trash!

Aaah!

I want a firm commitment.

I think, um, Evelyn,
that, uh, 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.

Uh, 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, uh...
and I've thought about that.

You can have 'em.

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, uh, sorry.
I just, uh...

You're not terribly
important to me.

Oh, no!

No. No, Patrick.

I know my behavior can be...
erratic sometimes.

What do you want me to do?
What is it that you want?

If you really wanna 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?
I'm 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 your...

Burning the midnight oil,
Mr. Smith?

Hey, now don't forget
to sign in.

Howard, 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 an apartment uptown,

uh, some homeless people,
maybe five or ten,

an N.Y.U. girl I met
in Central Park.

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

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

And-And-And then some man,
s-s-some old faggot
with a dog.

Last week, I, uh...

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, uh, 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 wanna 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, 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, um,

I'm not sure I'm gonna
get away with it... this time.

So, uh... I mean,

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.

Okay.

Oh!

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 wanna 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.

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, uh,

office this afternoon.

Why?

Just say no!
What is it, Patrick?
Are you all right?

Stop sounding
so fucking sad.

Jesus!

That's a table for three.
Bateman, you're looking
wild-eyed. Rough day?

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

He's a changed man,
except for he still can't
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 you back.

Face it. The Japanese
will own most of this country
by the end of the '90s.

Shut up, Carnes.
They will not.

So, uh, 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?

W-Wait, Harold.
What do you mean?

Excuse me. Nothing.
It's good to see you.

Is that Edward Towers?

Carnes, wait. Uh...

Davis, I'm not one
to bad-mouth 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. Uh... 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. 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,
provisions in the states.

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'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? Believe 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.

Word.

Come on.