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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 entrees 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. 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. ln the morning,|if my face is a little pufffy, I'll put on an icepack|while doing my stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the icepack,|I use a deeppore cleanser lotion. In the shower, I use|a water-activated gel cleanser. Then|a honey-almond bodyscrub. And on the face,|an exfoliating gelscrub. Then I apply|an herb mint facialmasque, which lleave on forten 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 may be you can even sense|our life styles 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. Allright ?|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 halfshell. I'm trying to listen to|the new Robert Palmer tape, but Evelyn, my supposed fiance,|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. Allright. 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 LesMis.|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 facialat 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. - Thankyou, Baxter.|- Listen, Paul. Squash. Call me.|How about Friday ? No can do.|I got an 8:30 res at Dorsia. Greatsea 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'da 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, thankyou, mister.|Thankyou. 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 bloodlust|has overflowed into my days. I feel lethal,|on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity|is about to slip. Hey, Mc Cloy,|what do you say ? Hey, Hamilton.|Have a holly, jolly Christmas. Is Allen still handling the Fisher account ?|Ofcourse. 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, l 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 ofdivorce. 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|what so ever, 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 hardtime|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|eversince 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. ln 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|are 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, greatjacket.|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... 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. 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 AlDS 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 will power. 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 badboy. 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 Me lania.|She went to Sweet Briar. And we're meeting|at the Cornell Club, so I'll call you|tomorrowmorning, 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'resure ? 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 bejoining 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 SurfBar. You know, SurfBar. 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 blowjob. 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 howeveryou 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. It's 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 fucking face,|you piece of bitch trash ! 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, lam. - 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. ln 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, OysterBar.|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 Mc Dermott.|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 maybe 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 arejust|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. |
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