AMERICAN PSYCHO

by
Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner

Based on the novel by Bret Easton Ellis 

Fourth Draft 
November 1998


INT. PASTELS RESTAURANT- NIGHT 

An insanely expensive restaurant on the Upper East Side. 
The decor is a mixture of chi-chi and rustic, with swagged 
silk curtains, handwritten menus and pale pink tablecloths 
decorated with arrangements of moss, twigs and hideous 
exotic flowers. The clientele is young, wealthy and 
confident, dressed in the height of late-eighties style: 
pouffy Lacroix dresses, slinky Alaïa, Armani power suits.

CLOSE-UP on a WAITER reading out the specials.

WAITER 
With goat cheese profiteroles and I also have an arugula 
Caesar salad. For entrées tonight I have a swordfish 
meatloaf with onion marmalade, a rare-roasted partridge 
breast in raspberry coulis with a sorrel timbale...

Huge white porcelain plates descend on very pale pink linen 
table cloths. Each of the entrees is a rectangle about four 
inches square and look exactly alike.

CLOSE-UP on various diners as we hear fragments of 
conversation. "Is that Charlie Sheen over there?" "Excuse 
me? I ordered cactus pear sorbet."

WAITER 
And grilled free-range rabbit with herbed French fries. Our 
pasta tonight is a squid ravioli in a lemon grass broth...

CLOSE-UP on porcelain plates containing elaborate 
perpendicular desserts descending on another table.

PATRICK BATEMAN, TIMOTHY PRICE, CRAIG MCDERMOTT and DAVID 
VAN PATTEN are at a table set for four. They are all wearing 
expensively cut suits and suspenders and have slicked-back 
hair. Van Patten wears horn-rimmed glasses. 

The camera moves in on Bateman as his narration begins:

BATEMAN (V.O.)
We're sitting in Pastels, this nouvelle Northern California 
place on the Upper East Side.

The Waiter sets down plates containing tiny, elaborately 
decorated starters. As he does so we hear Bateman's 
description of each of the men at the table.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
You'll notice that my friends and I all look and behave in 
a remarkably similar fashion, but there are subtle differences 
between us. McDermott is the biggest asshole. Van 
Patten is the yes man. Price is the most wired. I'm the 
best looking. We all have light tans. Right now I'm in a 
bad mood because this is not a good table, and Van Patten 
keeps asking dumb, obvious questions about how to dress . 

VAN PATTEN 
What are the rules for a sweater vest?

McDERMOTT 
What do you mean?

PRICE 
Yes. Clarify.

McDERMOTT 
Well, is it strictly informal-

BATEMAN 
Or can it be worn with a suit?

McDERMOTT 
(Smiling) 
Exactly

BATEMAN 
With discreet pinstripes you should wear a subdued blue or 
charcoal gray vest. A plaid suit would cal I for a bolder 
vest.

McDERMOTT 
But avoid matching the vest's pattern with your socks or
tie. Wearing argyle socks with an argyle vest will look 
too studied.

VAN PATTEN 
You think so?

PRICE 
You'll look like you consciously worked for the look.

VAN PATTEN 
Good point. Excuse me, gentlemen.

Van Patten leaves the table. As he does so, a busboy 
discreetly removes their largely untouched plates.

BATEMAN 
Van Patten looks puffy. Has he stopped working out?

PRICE 
It looks that way, doesn't it?

McDERMOTT 
(Staring at retreating waiter) 
Did he just take our plates away?

PRICE 
He took them away because the portions are so small he 
probably thought we were finished. God, I hate this place. 
This is a chicks' restaurant. Why aren't we at Dorsia?

McDERMOTT 
Because Bateman won't give the maitre d' head.
(He guffaws)

Bateman throws a swizzle stick at him.

McDermott scans the room, settling on a handsome young man
with slicked-back hair and horn-rimmed glasses.

McDERMOTT 
Is that Reed Robinson over there?
PRICE 
Are you freebasing or what? That's not Robinson.

McDERMOTT 
Who is it then?

PRICE 
That's Paul Owen.

BATEMAN 
That's not Paul Owen. Paul Owen's on the other side of the
room. Over there.

He points to another handsome young man with slicked-back 
hair and horn-rimmed glasses.

McDERMOTT 
Who is he with?

PRICE 
(Distracted by the waitress's 
cleavage as she bends over to 
uncork a bottle of wine – the 
waitress glares at him) 
Some weasel from Kicker Peabody.

Van Patten returns.

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

McDERMOTT 
Are you sure that's Paul Owen over there?

PRICE 
Yes. McDufus, I am.

McDERMOTT 
He's handling the Fisher account.

PRICE 
Lucky bastard.

McDERMOTT 
Lucky Jew bastard.

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

McDERMOTT 
Listen. I've seen the bastard sitting in his office on the
phone with CEOs, spinning a fucking menorah. The 
bastard brought a Hanukkah bush into the office last December.

BATEMAN 
You spin a dreidel, McDermott, not a menorah. 
You spin a dreidel.

McDERMOTT 
Oh my God. Bateman, do you want me to fry you up
some fucking potato pancakes? Some latkes?

BATEMAN 
No. Just cool it with the anti-Semitic remarks.

McDERMOTT 
Oh I forgot. Bateman's dating someone from the 
ACLU.

Price leans over and pats Bateman on the back.

PRICE 
The voice of reason. The boy next door. And speaking 
of reasonable...

He shows McDermott the bill for the meal.

McDERMOTT 
Only $470.

VAN PATTEN 
(Without irony) 
Not bad.

The others murmur agreement. Four platinum Amex cards slap
down on the table.

INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT 
Bateman is pouring vintage champagne into flutes. Price is 
lighting up a cigar.

McDERMOTT 
Last week I picked up this Vassar chick-

VAN PATTEN 
Oh God, I was there. I don't need to hear this 
story again.

McDERMOTT 
But I never told you what happened afterwards. So 
okay, I pick up this Vassar chick at Tunnel-hot number, big 
tits, great legs, this chick was a little hardbody-and so I 
buy her a couple of champagne kirs and she's in the city on 
spring break and she's practically blowing me in the 
Chandelier Room and so I take her back to my place-

BATEMAN 
Whoa, wait. May I ask where Pamela is during all 
this?

McDERMOTT 
Oh fuck you. I want a blowjob, Bate-man. I want a chick 
who's gonna let me-

VAN PATTEN 
(Putting his hands over his ears) 
I don't want to hear this. He's going to say something 
disgusting.

McDERMOTT 
You prude. Listen, we're not gonna invest in a co-op 
together or jet down to Saint Bart's. I just want some 
chick whose face I can sit on for thirty, forty minutes.

Price throws a cigar at McDermott, who catches it.

McDERMOTT 
Anyway, so we're back at my place and listen to 
this. She's had enough champagne by now to get a fucking 
rhino tipsy, and get this-

VAN PATTEN 
She let you fuck her without a condom?

McDERMOTT 
This is a Vassar girl. She's not from Queens. She 
would only-are you ready? 
(Dramatic pause) 
She would only give me a handjob, and get this...she kept 
her glove on.

The men sit in shocked, horrified silence.

ALL IN UNISON Never date a Vassar girl.

EXT. TUNNEL NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT

The limo pulls up to the sidewalk outside the Tunnel. 
McDermott holds the door open for a passing HOMELESS MAN, 
who looks confused.

McDERMOTT 
I suppose he doesn't want the car. Price, ask 
him if he takes American Express.

PRICE 
(Offering card) 
You take Amex, dude?

The man stumbles away. The club DOORMAN, seeing the limousine, 
unhooks the 
velvet rope and welcomes them inside.

INT. LADIES ROOM, TUNNEL - NIGHT 

Brilliant white light, a bemused elderly female attendant in a 
black-and-white maid's uniform trying to give out paper towels. 
MUSIC thuds through an open doorway. Trashed-looking girls 
stare into mirrors repairing their eye make-up or sit on the 
counter chatting to friends. There are almost as many men as 
women in the room. Couples stand in line, twitching as they 
wait to do coke. As soon as one bathroom door opens, a couple 
lurches out rubbing their noses while another couple rushes 
past them and slams the door.

PRICE 
There's this theory out now that if you can catch the 
AIDS virus through having sex with someone who is infected, 
then you can also catch anything-Alzheimer's, muscular 
dystrophy, hemophilia, leukemia, diabetes, dyslexia, for 
Christ's sake-you can get dyslexia from pussy-

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

PRICE 
Oh, who knows? They don't know that. Prove it.

Price and Bateman finally get a stall and rush in. Price is 
sweating.

PRICE 
I'm shaking. You open it.

Bateman opens a tiny packet of coke.

PRICE
Jeez. That's not a helluva lot, is it?

BATEMAN 
Maybe it's just the light.

PRICE 
Is he fucking selling it by the milligram? (He dips 
the corner of his Amex card in the packet and takes a snort) 
Oh my God...

BATEMAN 
What?

PRICE 
It's a fucking milligram of Sweet'n Low!

Bateman dips his Amex in the envelope and snorts.

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

PRICE 
I want to get high off this; Bateman, not sprinkle it 
on my fucking All-Bran.

The GUY IN STALL next door yells at them in an effeminate 
voice:

GUY IN STALL 
Could you keep it down, I'm trying to do drugs!

Price pounds his fist against the stall.

PRICE 
(screaming) 
SHUT UP!

BATEMAN 
Calm down. Let's do it anyway

PRICE 
I guess you're right...
(Raising his voice) 
THAT IS, IF THE FAGGOT IN THE NEXT STALL THINKS IT'S OKAY!

GUY IN STALL 
Fuck you!

PRICE 
(Trying to climb up against the aluminum divider) 
No, FUCK YOU!! 
(He collapses, panting against the stall door) 
Sorry, dude. Steroids...Okay, let's do it.

BATEMAN 
That's the spirit.

They both dig their platinum Amex cards into the envelope 
of white powder, shoveling it up their noses, then sticking 
their fingers in to catch the residue and rubbing it into 
their gums.

INT. NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT 

Bateman saunters toward the bar as "Pump Up the Volume" 
plays in the background.

BATEMAN (to BARGIRL) Two Stoli on the rocks.

He hands her two drink tickets.

BARGIRL 
It's after eleven. Those aren't good anymore. It's 
a cash bar. That'll be twenty-five dollars.

Bateman pulls out an expensive-looking wallet and hands her 
a $50.

She turns her back and searches the cash register for 
change.

BATEMAN You are a fucking ugly bitch I want to stab to 
death and then play around with your blood.

The music muffles his voice. She turns around. He is 
smiling at her. She gives him his change impassively.

INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT- MORNING 

Tableaux of Bateman's apartment in the early morning light. 
A huge white living room with floor-to-ceiling windows 
looking out over Manhattan, decorated in expensive, minimalist 
high style: bleached oak floors, a huge white sofa, a large 
Baselitz painting (hung upside down) and much expensive 
electronic equipment. The room is impeccably neat, and oddly 
impersonal - as if it had sprung straight from the pages of 
a design magazine.

BATEMAN (V.0.) 
My name is Patrick Bateman. I am 
twenty-six years old. I live in the American Garden 
Buildings on West Eighty-First Street, on the eleventh 
floor Tom Cruise lives in the penthouse.

Bateman walks into his bathroom, urinates while trying to 
see his reflection in a poster for Les Miserables above his 
toilet.

BATEMAN 
(V.0.) 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.

Bateman ties a plastic ice pack around his face.

Bateman does his morning stretching exercises in the living 
room wearing the ice pack.

CUT TO:

A mirror-lined bathroom. Bateman is luxuriating in the 
shower steam, scrubbing his body, admiring his muscles.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
After I remove the icepack, 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.

Bateman stands in front of a massive marble sink applying a 
gel facial masque.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
Then I apply an herb mint facial masque which 
I leave on for ten minutes while I prepare the rest of my 
routine.

Bateman opens the door of a mirrored cabinet, which is 
stocked with immaculate rows of skin care products. He 
begins selecting bottles jars and brushes, laying them in 
readiness on the marble counter.

BATEMAN (V.O.)
I always use an after-shave 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...

Bateman stares into the mirror. The masque has dried, 
giving his face a strange distorted look as if it has been 
wrapped in plastic. He begins slowly peeling the gel masque 
off his face.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some 
kind of abstraction, hut 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 you 
and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably 
comparable: I simply am not there.

INT. BATEMAN BEDROOM - MORNING 

Another huge white room, equally minimal: a futon, rumpled 
white sheets, a bedside lamp with a halogen bulb, and a large 
expensive painting (Eric Fischl or David Salle) chosen by 
Bateman's interior decorator.

Dressed in silk boxer shorts, Bateman stands in front of a 
huge walk-in closet, filled with rows of expensive shirts, 
shoes and designer suits, organized according to color and 
tone.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
It is hard for me to make sense on any given 
level. My self is fabricated, an aberration. My personality 
is sketchy and unformed, my heartlessness goes deep and is 
persistent.

Fully dressed in Armani, Bateman stands in front of a 
full-length mirror in the middle of his vast bedroom, 
adjusting his cuff-links.

BATEMAN (V.0.) 
My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared 
a long time ago, if they ever did exist.

He gives a last look at the mirror and likes what he sees. 
He gives his reflection a smile.

INT. OFFICES OF PIERCE & PIERCE - DAY 

As Bateman walks down the corridor, he passes another MAN who 
looks just like him.

MAN 
Morning, Hamilton. Nice tan.

Bateman walks past the desk of JEAN, his secretary, pulling 
his Walkman from around his neck. Jean is attractive, 
wholesome, earnest. She smiles shyly. She loves him.

JEAN 
Late?

BATEMAN 
Aerobics class. Sorry. Any messages?

JEAN 
Ricky Hendricks has to cancel today. He didn't say what 
he was canceling or why.

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

JEAN 
And...Spencer wants to meet you for a drink at Fluties Pier 17.

BATEMAN 
When?

JEAN 
After six.

BATEMAN 
Negative. Cancel it.

Jean follows him into his office.

JEAN 
Oh? And what should I say?

BATEMAN
Just...say...no.

JEAN 
Just say no?

Jean stands at his desk, waiting for instructions.

BATEMAN 
Okay, Jean. I need reservations for three at Camols 
at twelve-thirty, and if not there, try Crayons. All 
right?

JEAN 
(Playfully) 
Yes, sir.

She turns to leave.

BATEMAN 
Oh wait. And I need reservations for two at Arcadia at eight 
tonight.

Jean turns around.

JEAN 
Oh, something. . romantic?

BATEMAN 
No, silly. Forget it. I'll make them. Thanks.

JEAN 
I'll do it.

BATEMAN 
No. No. Be a doll and just get me a Perrier, okay?

JEAN 
You look nice today.

Jean exits. Bateman straightens some magazines in his 
office, lifts a painting off the wall and puts it back at a 
slightly different angle. He fiddles with some pencils in a 
beer stein. He puts on some MUSIC and flips through a 
Sports Illustrated. He buzzes Jean. She comes in a moment 
later with the Perrier and a file.

JEAN 
Yes?

BATEMAN 
Is that the Ransom file? Thanks. Don't wear that 
outfit again.

JEAN 
Ummm...what? I didn't hear you.

BATEMAN 
I said "Do not wear that outfit again." Wear a 
dress. A skirt or something.

Jean stands there, then looks down at herself.

JEAN 
(Smiling bravely) 
You don't like this, I take it?

BATEMAN 
Come on, you're prettier than that.

JEAN 
(Sarcastically) 
Thanks, Patrick.

The phone RINGS and Jean turns to leave.

BATEMAN 
I'm not here. And high heels. I like high heels.

As Jean leaves, Bateman clicks on the TV set in one corner 
of the room and starts watching Jeopardy!

INT. TAXI - EVENING 

EVELYN WILLIAMS, Patrick Bateman's 
fiancée, is making notes with a gold Cross pen and sipping 
a bottle of mineral water. Evelyn is blonde, classically 
beautiful, expensively educated, and utterly pleased with 
herself. She usually addresses Patrick as if he were a 
small child.

EVELYN 
I'd want a zydeco band, Patrick. That's what I'd 
want, a zydeco band. Or mariachi. Or reggae. Something 
ethnic to shock Daddy Oh, I can't decide...And lots 
of chocolate truffles. Godiva. And oysters on the halfshell.

CLOSE-UP on Bateman, who is wearing a Walkman and staring 
out the window.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
I'm trying to listen to the new George 
Michael tape but Evelyn-my supposed fiancée-keeps buzzing 
in my ear.

Evelyn continues to make notes.

EVELYN 
Marzipan. Pink tents. Hundreds, thousands of roses. 
Photographers. Annie Leibovitz. We'll get Annie Leibovitz. 
And we'll hire someone to videotape. Patrick, we should do it.

BATEMAN 
(Removing his Walkman) 
Do...what.

EVELYN 
Get married. Have a wedding.

BATEMAN 
Evelyn?

EVELYN 
Yes, darling?

BATEMAN 
Is your Evian spiked?

EVELYN 
We should do it.

BATEMAN 
No-I can't take the time off work.

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

BATEMAN 
I don't want to talk about it.

EVELYN 
Well, you hate that job anyway. Why don't you just 
quit? You don't have to work.

BATEMAN 
Because I...want...to...fit...in.

The taxi bumps to a halt.

INT. ESPACE RESTAURANT- NIGHT 

A cavernous garage, harshly spot-lit, decorated in 
self-conscious brutalist chic. Iron girders, walls of waxed 
plaster featuring exposed rusted pipes, a huge Schnabel 
smashed-plate painting on one wall. The tables and chairs are 
made of extremely uncomfortable 
bolted steel.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
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.

Tm Price and two downtown types, STASH and VANDEN, are 
already seated. Vanden is about twenty, pretty and sullen, 
with green streaks in her black hair. Stash is pale, with 
ragged black hair and bad skin.

They are all trying to read large stainless steel menus 
that look like minimalist art.

PRICE 
The menu's in braille.

He gets up to greet them, giving Evelyn a suspiciously long 
kiss.

PRICE 
I have to talk to you.

He drags her away, half giggling and protesting.

EVELYN 
(Over her shoulder) 
Pat, this is my cousin Vanden 
and her boyfriend Stash. He's an artist.

BATEMAN 
(After smiling at his own reflection in the mirror and 
checking his hair) 
Hi. Pat Bateman.

Vanden takes his hand reluctantly, says nothing.

BATEMAN 
Let me guess-you live in the East Village?

Pause.

STASH 
SoHo.

COURTNEY RAWLINSON and LUIS CARRUTHERS arrive at the table. 
Courtney is blonde, classically beautiful and from 
precisely the same social background as Evelyn, but she is 
considerably more fragile and neurotic. Luis is 
half-English, half-Argentinean, slightly overweight (a 
rarity in this crowd), puppyish and eager to please. He 
wears the same type of designer clothes as Price and 
Bateman, but with foppish tendencies: velvet jackets, 
bow-ties, boldly patterned vests.

They exchange air kisses. As soon as Luis turns his back, 
Bateman sneaks a kiss on Courtney's neck.

COURTNEY 
(Whispering) 
Stop it!

Stash and Vanden watch them in silence.

LATER:

Price is whispering in Evelyn's ear. Everyone else is 
quietly eating, except Bateman, who is drinking and watching 
Evelyn and Price.

BATEMAN (V.O.)
I am fairly sure that Timothy and Evelyn 
are having an affair. Timothy is the only interesting
person I know. 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 dufus in the business.

Courtney rouses herself from her drug haze.

COURTNEY
Tell me. Stash...do you think SoHo is 
becoming to...commercial?

CARRUTHERS 
Yes, I read that.

PRICE 
Oh, who gives a rat's ass?

VANDEN 
Hey. That affects us.

PRICE 
(Wired on coke) 
Oh ho ho. That affects us? What 
about the massacres in Sri Lanka, honey? Doesn't that 
affect us, too? I mean don't you know anything about Sri 
Lanka? About how the Sikhs are killing like tons of 
Israelis there? Doesn't that affect us?

BATEMAN 
Oh come on. Price. There are a lot more important 
problems than Sri Lanka to worry about. Sure our foreign 
policy is important, but there are more pressing problems 
at hand.

PRICE 
Like what?

BATEMAN 
Well, we have to end apartheid for one. And slow 
down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world 
hunger. But we can't ignore our social needs. either We 
have to stop people from abusing the welfare system. 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 but change the 
abortion laws to protect the right to life yet still 
somehow maintain women's freedom of choice.

The table stares at Bateman uncomfortably.

BATEMAN 
We also have to control the influx of illegal 
immigrants. We have to encourage a return to traditional 
moral values and curb graphic sex and violence on TV, in 
movies, in pop music, everywhere. Most importantly we have 
to promote general social concern and less materialism in 
young people.

Price chokes on his drink. Everyone is silent and 
mystified.

CARRUTHERS 
Patrick, how thought-provoking.

INT. EVELYN'S BEDROOM - LATER THE SAME EVENING 

Bateman and Evelyn are lying on her bed watching television.

BATEMAN 
Why don t you just go for Price?

EVELYN 
Oh God, Patrick. Why Price? Price?

BATEMAN 
He's rich.

EVELYN 
Everybody's rich.

BATEMAN 
He's good-looking.

EVELYN 
Everybody's good-looking, Patrick.

BATEMAN 
He has a great body

EVELYN 
Everybody has a great body now.

Bateman unbuttons his shirt and makes advances to get 
Evelyn to have sex with him. She ignores him, watching the 
Home Shopping Channel with the remote in her hand. Finally, 
he straddles her, penis close to her face. She tries to 
look around him at the TV, then takes notice.

EVELYN 
What do you want to do with that, floss with it?

Bateman flops back down beside her and stares at the television.

EVELYN 
Are you using minoxidil?

BATEMAN 
No. I'm not. Why should I ?

EVELYN 
Your hairline looks like it's receding.

BATEMAN 
It's not.

EXT. STREET - LATER THAT NIGHT 

It is 3 a.m. Bateman is standing at an ATM, listening to the 
comforting sound of fresh bills thudding out of the machine. 
Bateman turns around and watches a solitary young woman walk 
past him. He collects his money, placing it carefully in his 
wallet, and then walks toward her, whistling. He catches up 
to her as she pauses at a red light.

BATEMAN 
Hello.

The woman looks suspicious for a moment and then, seeing 
his smile, smiles back.

INT. DRY CLEANERS - DAY 

Bateman, dressed in an Armani suit 
with an unlit cigar between his teeth is standing in a dry 
cleaners, arguing with the Chinese woman behind the 
counter.

BATEMAN 
Listen, wait. You're not...shhh wait...
you're not giving me valid reasons.

The woman continues to speak to him in another language, 
grabbing at the sleeve of the jacket.

BATEMAN 
What are you trying to say to me?

Her husband has taken Bateman's horribly bloodstained 
sheets out of the bag and is staring at them.

BATEMAN 
Bleach-ee? Are you trying to say bleach-ee? 
Bleach-ee. Oh my God.

She keeps pointing to the jacket and talking.

BATEMAN 
(Talking over her) 
Two things. One. You can't bleach a Soprani. Out of the question. 
Two.
(Louder) 
Two. I can only get these sheets in Santa Fe. These are very 
expensive sheets and I really need them clean.

She keeps talking and Bateman leans into her.

BATEMAN 
If you don't shut your fucking mouth I will kill 
you, are you understanding me?

She talks faster.

BATEMAN 
Now listen-I have a very important lunch meeting 
(Checks Rolex) 
at Hubert's in thirty minutes, and I need those 
...no wait, twenty minutes. I have a lunch meeting at 
Hubert's in twenty minutes with Ronald Harrison and I need 
those sheets cleaned by this afternoon.

She keeps talking.

BATEMAN Listen. I cannot understand you.

Bateman starts laughing, slaps his hand down on the 
counter.

BATEMAN 
This is crazy. You're a fool. I can't cope with 
this.

Bateman is on the verge of tears.

BATEMAN 
Stupid bitchee! Understand? Oh Christ!

Someone enters the store behind him. It's VICTORIA, 
late-twenties, attractive but a little overweight, wearing a 
tailored business suit with white sneakers and sports socks.

VICTORIA 
Patrick?

She takes off her sunglasses.

VICTORIA 
Hi, Patrick. I thought that was you.

BATEMAN 
Hello 
(Mumbles un incomprehensible name)

Awkward pause.

BATEMAN 
Well.

VICTORIA 
Isn't it ridiculous? Coming all the way up here, 
but you
know. They really are the best.

BATEMAN 
Then why can't they get these stains out? I mean can you talk 
to these people or something? I'm not getting anywhere.

Victoria moves toward the sheet that the old man is holding 
up. She
touches it and the woman behind the counter begins talking 
again.

VICTORIA 
Oh my, I see. What are those? Oh my.
BATEMAN 
Um, well...it s cranberry juice. Cranapple.

VICTORiA 
(Skeptically) Really?

BATEMAN 
Well, I mean, um, it s really...Bosco. You 
know, like...
like a Dove Bar. It's a Dove Bar...Hershey's Syrup?

VICTORIA 
(As if sharing a secret joke) Oh yeah. Oh I get it. 
Fun with chocolate.

BATEMAN 
Listen, if you could talk to them 
(He yanks the sheet out of the man's hand) 
I would really appreciate it. I'm really late. I have a 
lunch appointment at Hubert's in fifteen minutes.

Bateman turns to leave.

VICTORIA 
Hubert's? Oh really? It moved uptown, right?

BATEMAN 
Yeah, well, oh boy, listen, I've got to go. Thank 
you, uh...
Victoria?

VICTORIA 
Maybe we could have lunch one day next week? You 
know, I'm downtown near Wall Street quite often.

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

VICTORIA 
Well, what about, oh, you know, maybe a Saturday?

BATEMAN 
(Checking his watch) 
Next Saturday?

VICTORIA 
(Shrugging) 
Yeah.

BATEMAN 
Oh, can't, I'm afraid. Matinée of Les Miserables. 
Listen, I've really got to go. I'll-Oh...Christ...I'll call 
you.

VICTORIA 
Okay. Do.

Bateman glares at the woman behind the counter and rushes 
out the door. Victoria stares after him as we hear the sound 
of the bell on the closing door.

INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - DAY

Bateman is sitting on the sofa watching a video, talking to 
Courtney on a portable phone. He's holding a video box in one 
hand, perusing the title: Inside Lydia's Ass. Offscreen we hear 
the sounds of the porn movie as he talks.

BATEMAN 
Listen, what are you doing tonight?

COURTNEY 
What? Oh, I'm...busy.

BATEMAN 
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?

COURTNEY 
Stop it. I'm...

BATEMAN 
On a lot of lithium?

COURTNEY 
Waiting for Luis to call me. He said he'd call 
tonight. Oh don't be difficult, Patrick.

BATEMAN 
You should come have dinner with me.
COURTNEY 
But-when?

BATEMAN 
Am I confused or were we talking about tonight?

COURTNEY 
Ummm . . yeah. Luis is calling me tonight. I 
need to be
home for that.

BATEMAN 
Pumpkin?

COURTNEY 
Yes?

BATEMAN 
Pumpkin you're dating an asshole.

COURTNEY 
Uh huh.

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

COURTNEY 
I know. Stop it.

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

COURTNEY 
Patrick don't call me pumpkin anymore, okay? I have to go.

BATEMAN 
Courtney? Dinner?

COURTNEY 
I can't.

BATEMAN 
I'm thinking Dorsia.

COURTNEY 
Dorsia's nice.

BATEMAN 
Nice?

COURTNEY 
You like it there, don't you?

BATEMAN 
The question is do you like it, Courtney? And will 
you blow off a fucking phone call from your sad excuse for a 
boyfriend to eat there tonight.

COURTNEY 
Okay. Yeah. What time?

BATEMAN 
Eight? 

COURTNEY 
Pick me up? 

BATEMAN 
Sounds like I'll have to. Don't fall asleep, okay? Wear 
something fabulous. Dorsia, remember?

Bateman hangs up, opens up the Zagat's guide and dials the 
number for Dorsia with trembling fingers. It's busy and so 
he puts it on speakerphone, constant redial. He waits with 
his head in his hands, sweating with anxiety, until there 
is finally an answer.

MAITRE D'
Dorsia. Please hold.

He is on hold for a long time, getting very tense.

MAITRE D'
Dorsia.

BATEMAN 
(Both of his eyes are closed) 
Umm...yes...I know it's a little late but is it possible to 
reserve a table for two at eight or eight-thirty perhaps?

Long pause. The Maitre D' starts giggling quietly and then 
more loudly until the laughter is almost hysterical and he 
hangs up the phone.

INT. TAXI- NIGHT

Bateman and Courtney are in the back of a cab. Courtney is
heavily medicated.

COURTNEY 
A facial at Elizabeth Arden, which was really 
relaxing, then to the Pottery Bam where I bought this 
silver muffin dish. 
(She starts to pass out)

BATEMAN 
Is that Donald Trump's car?

COURTNEY 
(Thickly) 
Oh God, Patrick. Shut up.

BATEMAN 
You know, Courtney, you should take some more 
lithium. Or have a Diet Coke. Some caffeine might get you 
out of this slump.

COURTNEY 
I just want to have a child. Just...two...
perfect...children...
(Her voice trails as she descends back into a drug haze)

The cab draws up outside a restaurant. The awning reads 
"Barcadia."

INT. BARCADIA - NIGHT 

An insanely expensive nouvelle Italian restaurant all 
polished natural brick, spotless white tablecloths, 
minimalist flower arrangements, discreet lighting.

A waiter has come to take their drink orders.

BATEMAN
J&B. Straight.

COURTNEY 
Champagne on the rocks. Oh-could I have that with 
a twist? She starts to sink back in her chair and Bateman 
leans over and pulls her back up.

COURTNEY 
Are we here?

BATEMAN 
Yes.

COURTNEY 
This is Dorsia?

BATEMAN 
(Examining a menu that says "Barcadia" in large script) 
Yes, dear.

Courtney almost falls asleep while looking at her menu, and 
starts to slide off of her chair. Bateman grabs her by both 
shoulders and props her up.

BATEMAN 
Courtney, you're going to have the peanut butter 
soup with smoked duck and mashed squash. New York magazine 
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. 

COURTNEY 
Mmmm...thanks, Patrick. 

She falls asleep at the table.

INT. COURTNEY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Bateman and Courtney are in Courtney's bed. Bateman is on 
top of her, reaching for a condom in the ashtray. He tears 
it open with his teeth, puts it on.

COURTNEY 
(Dazed on lithium) 
I want you to fuck me.

Bateman gets on top of her, starts to fuck her.

COURTNEY 
Luis is a despicable twit.

BATEMAN 
Yes, Luis is a despicable twit. I hate him.

He keeps fucking her.

COURTNEY 
No, you idiot. I said "Is it a receptacle tip?" 
Not, is Luis a despicable twit. Is it a receptacle tip? 
Get off me.

BATEMAN 
Is it a what?

COURTNEY 
Pull out.

BATEMAN 
I'm ignoring you.

COURTNEY 
(screaming) 
Pull out, goddamnit!

BATEMAN 
(Slowing down but not stopping)
What do you want, Courtney?

She pushes him away from her.

BATEMAN 
It's a plain end. I think.

COURTNEY 
Turn the light on.

She tries to sit up.

BATEMAN 
Oh Jesus. I'm going home.

COURTNEY 
Patrick. Turn on the Light.
He turns on the light. 

BATEMAN 
It's a plain end, see? So? 

COURTNEY 
Take it off. 

BATEMAN 
Why? 

COURTNEY 
Because you have to leave half an inch at the tip – 
(She covers herself with her comforter) 
to catch the force of the ejaculate! 
BATEMAN 
I'm getting out of here. Where's your lithium?

Courtney throws a pillow over her head and starts crying. 

COURTNEY 
(Screaming) 
Do you think you're turning me on by having unsafe sex?

Bateman pulls the pillow off her and slaps her face.

BATEMAN 
Oh Christ, this really isn't worth it. And see, 
Courtney, it's there for what? Huh? Tell us. 
(He slaps her again lightly) 
Why is it pulled down half an inch? 
So it can catch the force of the ejaculate!

COURTNEY 
(Choking crying) 
Well, it's not a turn-on for me. 
I have a promotion coming to me. I don't want to get AIDS.

Bateman grabs her head and makes her look at the condom.

BATEMAN 
See? Happy? You dumb bitch? Are you happy, you dumb bitch?

COURTNEY 
Oh God, just get it over with.

He fucks her quickly until he has a mediocre orgasm and 
falls down next to her. They lie side by side with their 
bodies not touching, eyes open, staring at the 
ceiling.

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM, PIERCE & PIERCE - DAY

Bateman and Luis Carruthers are seated at a long table in 
the conference room at Pierce & Pierce, which looks out onto 
a spectacular view of Manhattan.

CARRUTHERS 
Patrick, thanks so much for looking after Courtney.
Dorsia, how impressive! How on earth did you get a 
reservation there?

BATEMAN 
Lucky, I guess.

CARRUTHERS 
That's a wonderful jacket. Let me guess, 
Valentino Couture?

BATEMAN 
Uh huh.

CARRUTHERS 
(Reaching out to touch it) 
It looks so soft.

BATEMAN 
(Catching Luis hand) 
Your compliment was sufficient Luis.

Carruthers is distracted by a question from the colleague 
on his left.Paul Owen enters, carrying the Wall St. Journal 
under his arm. He is handsome, supremely confident and 
self-satisfied; he sees himself as a leader among men.

OWEN 
(To Bateman) 
Hello, Halberstam. Nice tie. How the hell are you?

BATEMAN 
I've been great. And you?

Their conversation fades down as we hear Bateman's 
thoughts.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
Owen has mistaken me for this dickhead Marcus Halberstam. 
It seems logical because Marcus also works at P&P and in 
fact does the same exact thing I do and 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.

During this voiceover the CAMERA WANDERS over to MARCUS 
HALBERSTAM, who is conferring with a colleague in the 
opposite corner of the room. He bears a 
superficial resemblance to Bateman.

OWEN 
How's the Ransom account going, Marcus?

BATEMAN 
(Nervous) 
It's...it's...all right.

OWEN 
Really? That's interesting. 
(He stares at Bateman, smiling)
Not great?

BATEMAN 
Oh well, you know.

OWEN 
And how's Cecilia? She's a great girl.

BATEMAN 
Oh yes. I'm very lucky.

McDermott and Price enter.

McDERMOTT 
Hey. Owen! Congratulations on the Fisher account.

OWEN 
Thank you, Baxter.

PRICE 
Listen, Paul. Squash?

OWEN 
Call me. 
(Hands him a business card)

PRICE 
How about Friday?

OWEN 
No can do. Got a res at eight-thirty at Dorsia. Great sea 
urchin ceviche. There is a stunned silence as he walks away 
and sits in a corner of the room, ostentatiously studying papers.

CLOSE-UP on Bateman's face, cold with hatred.

PRICE
(Whispering) 
Jesus. Dorsia? On a Friday night? How'd he swing that?

McDERMOTT (Whispering) 
I think he's lying.

Bateman takes out his wallet and pulls out a card. 

PRICE 
(Suddenly enthused) 
What's that, a gram? 

BATEMAN 
New card. What do you think?

McDermott lifts it up and examines the lettering carefully. 

McDERMOTT 
Whoa. Very nice. Take a look.

He hands it to Van Patten.

BATEMAN 
Picked them up from the printers yesterday

VAN PATTEN 
Good coloring.

BATEMAN 
That's bone. And the lettering is something called 
Silian Rail.

McDERMOTT 
(Envious) 
Silian Rail?

VAN PATTEN 
It is very cool, Bateman. But that's nothing.

He pulls a card out of his wallet and slaps it on the 
table. 

VAN PATTEN 
Look at this.

They all lean forward to inspect it. 

PRICE 
That's really nice.

Bateman clenches his fists beneath the table, trying to 
control his anxiety.

VAN PATTEN 
Eggshell with Romalian type. 
(Turning to Bateman)
What do you think?

BATEMAN 
(Barely able to breath, his voice a croak) 
Nice.

PRICE 
(Holding the card up to the light) 
Jesus. This is really super. How'd a nitwit like you get so 
tasteful?

Bateman stares at his own card and then enviously at 
McDermott's. 

BATEMAN (V.O.)
I can't believe that Price prefers McDermott's card to mine.

PRICE 
But wait. You ain't seen nothin' yet. 

He holds up his own card. 

PRICE 
Raised lettering, pale nimbus white...

BATEMAN 
(Choking with anxiety) 
Impressive. Very nice. Let's see Paul Owen's card.

Price pulls a card from an inside coat pocket and holds it 
up for their inspection: "PAUL OWEN, PIERCE & PIERCE, 
MERGERS AND ACQUISITIONS." Bateman swallows, speechless. 
The sound in the room dies down and all we hear is a faint 
heartbeat as Bateman stares at the magnificent card.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
Look at that subtle off-white coloring. The tasteful thickness 
of it. Oh my God, it even has a watermark...

His hand shaking, Bateman lifts up the card and stares at it 
until it fills the screen.

He lets it fall. The SOUND RETURNS TO NORMAL.

CARRUTHERS Is something wrong? Patrick...you're sweating.

EXT. STREET- EVENING 

The financial district. The streets are eerily deserted.

Bateman stands at an ATM, enjoying the reassuring sound of 
$500 in fresh bills thudding from the machine. As he turns 
to leave, he notices someone across the street.

A HOMELESS MAN is lying in a doorway on top of an open 
grate, surrounded by bags of garbage and a shopping cart. A 
cardboard sign is attached to the front of the cart: I AM 
HOMELESS AND HUNGRY PLEASE HELP ME. A small, thin dog lies 
next to him.

He is black, dressed in a stained, torn, lime-green 
polyester pants suit with jeans worn over the pants.

BATEMAN 
(Offering his hand) Hello. Pat Bateman.

The Homeless Man stares at Bateman, struggling to sit up.

BATEMAN 
You want some money?. Some...food?

The Homeless Man nods and starts to cry. Bateman reaches 
into his pocket and pulls out a $I 0 bill, then changes his 
mind and holds out a $5 instead.

BATEMAN 
Is this what you need?

The Homeless Man nods, looks away, wipes his nose.

HOMELESS MAN 
I'm so hungry.

BATEMAN 
It's cold out, too, isn't it?

HOMELESS MAN 
I'm so hungry.

BATEMAN 
(Holding the bill just out of the man's reach) 
Why don't you get a job? If you're so hungry, why don't you 
get a job?

HOMELESS MAN 
(Shivering and sobbing) 
I lost my job...

BATEMAN 
Why? Were you drinking? Is that why you lost it? 
Insider trading? Just joking. No, really-were you drinking on 
the job?

HOMELESS MAN I was fired. I was laid off.

BATEMAN 
Gee, uh, that's too bad.

HOMELESS MAN 
I'm so hungry.

The dog starts to whimper.

BATEMAN 
Why don't you get another one? Why don't , you get another job?

HOMELESS MAN 
I'm not...

BATEMAN 
You're not what? Qualified for anything else?

HOMELESS MAN 
I'm hungry

BATEMAN 
I know that, I know that. Jeez, you're like a broken record. 
I'm trying to help you.

HOMELESS MAN 
I'm hungry.

BATEMAN 
Listen, do you think it's fair to take money from people who 
do have jobs? From people who do work?

HOMELESS MAN 
What am I gonna do?

BATEMAN 
Listen, what's your name?

HOMELESS MAN
Al.

BATEMAN 
Speak up. Come on.

HOMELESS MAN
Al.

BATEMAN 
Get a goddamn job, Al. You've got a negative attitude. 
That's what's stopping you. You've got to get your act together. 
I'll help you.

HOMELESS MAN 
You re so kind, mister. You're kind. You're a kind
man. I can tell.

BATEMAN 
(Petting the dog) 
Shhhh...it's okay.

HOMELESS MAN 
(Grabbing Bateman's wrist) 
Please...I don know what to do. I'm so cold.

BATEMAN 
(Stroking his face, whispering) 
Do ,you know how bad you smell? The stench, my God.

HOMELESS MAN 
I can't...I can't find a shelter

BATEMAN 
You reek. You reek of...shit. Do you know that? 
(Shouting)
Goddammit, Al-look at me and stop crying like some kind of 
faggot. Al...I'm sorry.

Bateman carefully puts the money back in his wallet.

BATEMAN 
It's just that...I don't know I don't have anything in common 
with you.

He opens his briefcase and pulls out a long thin knife with 
a serrated edge. He pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to 
protect it.

BATEMAN 
Do you know what a fucking loser ,you are?

HOMELESS MAN'S POV as Bateman lunges at him with the knife.

EXTREME WIDE SHOT of the street. Bateman's shadowed figure
is hunched over the Homeless Man, stabbing him in the stomach.
The dog barks wildly and Bateman stomps on it until it is 
silent.

LOW ANGLE shot of Bateman as he throws a quarter on the ground.

BATEMAN
There's a quarter. Go buy some gum.

Bateman walks calmly into the empty caverns of Wall Street. 
Cars drift past, their headlights momentarily illuminating the 
body left twitching on the ground.

INT. BEAUTY SALON - DAY 

CLOSE-UP on Bateman's face and torso. His eyes are closed as a 
woman's hands rub cream into his face.

FACIALIST 
What beautiful skin you have, Mr Bateman. So 
fine, so smooth...

His eyes open to look up at the facialist and then he 
closes them again.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
I have all the characteristics of a human being- flesh, blood, 
skin, hair-but not a single clear, identifiable emotion except 
for greed ,und disgust. Something horrible is happening inside 
me and I don't know why.

CUT TO:

Bateman sitting in a chair, looking down at the 
MANICURIST who is giving him a pedicure. She is cutting his 
nails with tiny sharp scissors. He stares at them longingly.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
My nightly bloodlust has overflowed into my days. I feel lethal, 
on the verge of frenzy.

CUT TO:

Bateman lying irradiated by ultraviolet light on a tanning 
bed, wearing goggles.

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

INT. TEXARKANA RESTAURANT - NIGHT 

An insanely expensive nouvelle Tex-Mex restaurant, with an 
ironic Southwestern decor: Santa Fe colors, Navajo blankets, 
naive cowboy art, rawhide banquettes.

Bateman bursts in the door, late, and approaches the MAITRE D'.

BATEMAN 
Marcus Halberstam. For two at eight?

MAITRE D'
Your friend has already been seated. Follow me, Mr. Halberstam.

Paul Owen is seated at a table underneath an enormous pair of 
ram's horns. He is arguing with the WAITER.

OWEN 
No, I want to know. 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. Am I to believe that all ten 
people in this restaurant have eaten your entire supply of 
cilantro crawfish gumbo?

WAITER 
I'm very sorry sir. There was a fire in the kitchen 
earlier today, and-

BATEMAN 
J&B, straight. And a Dixie beer.

WAITER 
Would you like to hear-

OWEN 
Double Absolut martini.

WAITER 
Yes, sir. Would you like to hear the specials?

BATEMAN 
Not if you want to keep your spleen.

The Waiter leaves.

OWEN 
This is a real beehive of, uh, activity, Halberstam. 

This place is hot, very hot.

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

OWEN 
Yeah, well, you're late.

BATEMAN 
Hey, I'm a child of divorce. Give me a break 
(Studying the menu; he's in a surprisingly good mood) 
Hmmm, I see they've omitted the pork loin with lime jello.

OWEN 
We should've gone to Dorsia. I could've gotten us a table.

BATEMAN 
Nobody goes there anymore.

There is a long disgruntled silence.

BATEMAN 
Is that Ivana Trump over there? (Laughs) Jeez 
Patrick I mean Marcus, what are you thinking? Why would Ivana 
be at Texarkana?

Another pause.

BATEMAN 
So, wasn't Rothschild originally handling the 
Fisher account? How did you get it?

OWEN 
I could tell you that, Halberstam, but then I'd have 
to kill you.

He guffaws. Bateman laughs politely.

LATER: 
Paul Owen is very drunk. BATEMAN cold sober.

BATEMAN 
I like to dissect girls. Did you know I'm utterly insane?

Owen continues laughing and motions to the waiter for another 
drink.

OWEN 
Great tan, Marcus. Really impressive. Where do you tan?

BATEMAN Salon.

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

Bateman nods, agitated.

OWEN 
And Cecelia, how is she? Where is she tonight?

BATEMAN 
Cecelia is, well...you know (Cecelia. I think 
she's having dinner with...Evelyn Williams.

OWEN 
Evelyn. Great ass. Goes out with that loser Patrick 
Bateman. What a dork.

BATEMAN 
Another Martini, Paul?

Owen nods drunkenly.

LATER:

The end of the meal. Owen is squeezing a lime onto the 
table, missing his beer, incredibly drunk. The check is laid 
down.

BATEMAN 
(Talking to Owen like a child) 
Paul, give me your Amex card. Good boy.
Bateman slaps the card down, looks at the check.

BATEMAN 
Two-hundred-and-fifty. Very reasonable. Let's leave 
a big tip, shall we? My place hr a nightcap?

OWEN 
No, man. I'm gonna bail.

BATEMAN 
Come on, you dumb son of a bitch. 
(Helping him into his jacket) 
I've got a preview of the Barneys catalogue and a 
bottle of Absolut waiting for us.

INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
The living room floor has been meticulously covered with 
newspaper.

Owen is slumped drunkenly in a white Eames chair, a glass 
in his hand. Bateman is looking through his CDs.

BATEMAN 
You like Huey Lewis and the News?

OWEN 
They're okay.
BATEMAN 
Their early work was a little too New Wave for my 
taste. But then Sports came out in 1983, I think they really 
came into their own, commercially and artistically.

Bateman walks to his bathroom, taking a large ax out of the
shower. He takes two Valium.

BATEMAN 
(Said partly from the bathroom) 
The whole album has a clear, crisp sound and a new sheen of 
consummate professionalism that gives the songs a big boost.
Bateman comes back out and leans the ax against the wall. 
He walks to the foyer and puts on a raincoat, watching Owen 
from behind ail the time.

BATEMAN 
He's been compared to ELvis Costello but I think 
Huey has a more bitter, cynical sense of humor.

Owen is absent-mindedly leafing through the Barneys 
catalogue.

OWEN 
Hey, Halberstam?

BATEMAN 
Yes, Owen?

OWEN 
Why are there copies of the Style section all over 
the place? Do you have a dog? A chow or something?

BATEMAN 
No, Owen.

OWEN 
(Confused) 
Is that a raincoat?

BATEMAN 
Yes, it is.

Bateman moves to the CD player. He takes a CD out of its 
case and slides it in the machine.

BATEMAN 
In 1987 Huey released this, Fore!, their most 
accomplished album. I think I heir undisputed masterpiece is 
"HiP To Be Square," a song so catchy that 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 al~ a personal statement about the band itself.

Bateman puts on "Hip To Be Square."

BATEMAN crosses the room and picks up the ax.

We follow BATEMAN from behind as he walks up to Owen, the 
ax raised over his head.

BATEMAN 
Hey, Paul?

As Owen turns around, FROM OWEN'S POV we see Bateman swing 
the ax toward his face.

Blood sprays onto the white raincoat.

FROM BEHIND OWEN, we see BATEMAN as he yanks the ax out.

Owen drops to the floor. His body falls out of the frame. 
We stay on his legs twitching mechanically.

Blood pulses onto the newspaper-covered floor.

BATEMAN 
(Raising the ax and screaming) 
Try getting a reservation at Dorsia now, you fucking 
stupid bastard!

LOW ANGLE ON BATEMAN as he beats Owen with the back of the 
ax.

OFFSCREEN, the sound of the ax hitting Owen.

BATEMAN 
(Panting) 
Fucking bastard...

Bateman takes his raincoat off, still panting. He folds the 
coat carefully in half, bloody side in, and drapes it neatly 
over the back of a chair.

He sits back on the white sofa and surveys the scene. He 
checks his Rolex and lights a cigar.

OFFSCREEN, Paul Owen's last faint sighs are heard.

INT. LOBBY - NIGHT 

BATEMAN drags a large, blood-soaked sleeping bag through the lobby, 
past the bored doorman, who looks up from the Post for a moment.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

BATEMAN is trying to hail a cab. Owen's body is at his 
feet. Luis Carruthers and a Japanese girl walk up to him.

CARRUTHERS 
Patrick? Is that you?

BATEMAN 
No, Luis. It's not me. You're mistaken.

CARRUTHERS 
This is Gwendolyn Ichiban. This is my very good 
friend Patrick Bateman. Where are you going? We're going to 
Nell's. Gwendolyn's father's buying it. 
(Looking down at the body) 
Where did you get your overnight bag?

BATEMAN 
Commes des Garcon.

A cab stops. BATEMAN opens the door and manages to get 
Owen's body into the backseat.

Bateman gets into the cab.

CARRUTHERS 
Call me please, Patrick.

BATEMAN 
Jesus lives, Luis.

INT. BATEMAN'S HELL'S KITCHEN APARTMENT - NIGHT 

A bare room, lit by one light bulb. The walls are blank 
except for a Les Miserables poster. There is one ratty chair.

Bateman pours lime over Paul Owen's body, which is lying in 
a bathtub. He plays Huey Lewis, smokes a cigar, watches the 
body dissolve.

INT. PAUL OWEN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 

Bateman is letting himself into the apartment. It is very 
similar to Bateman's, but even more minimalist. The walls 
are white-pigmented concrete with a large minimalist painting 
on the wall. One wall is covered in a trendy, large-scale 
scientific drawing above a long, black leather couch.

BATEMAN 
Where to send the bastard? Dallas? Pans?

He throws some clothes into a suitcase, randomly grabbing 
toiletries and shoving them in.

BATEMAN 
Singapore? London. I'll send the asshole to London.

He puts some music on to help muffle his voice, then leans 
over the answering machine.

He does a passable imitation of Owen's speech.

BATEMAN 
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.

INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - MORNING 

Bateman is sitting at his desk, with the latest copy of 
Sports Illustrated in front of him and his Walkman playing 
Kenny G. We hear the MUSIC until Jean enters and he takes 
the Walkman off.

BATEMAN 
(Faintly irritable) 
What is it?

JEAN 
Patrick?

BATEMAN 
(Condescendingly) 
Ye-es, Je-an?

JEAN 
Patrick, a Mr. Donald KIMBALL is here to see you.

BATEMAN 
Who?

JEAN 
Detective Donald KIMBALL?

Silence. Bateman stares out the window, then down at the 
drawing of a headless woman he's been doodling on the back 
cover of Sports Illustrated.

BATEMAN 
Tell him I'm at lunch.

JEAN 
(whispering) 
Patrick, I think he knows you're here. 
It's only ten-thirty. 

Silence. 

BATEMAN 
Send him in, I guess. As she exits, he picks up the cordless 
phone and pretends to talk to someone at the other end.

BATEMAN 
Now, John, you've got to wear clothes in proportion 
to your physique. There are definite do's and don'ts, good 
buddy, of wearing a bold-striped shirt. A hold-striped shirt 
calls for solid-colored or discreetly patterned suits and ties...

The door to the office opens and he waves in DETECTIVE DONALD 
KIMBALL. KIMBALL is surprisingly young - about Bateman's age - 
and good-looking, dressed in a crumpled linen Armani suit of 
the type Bateman and his friends might wear.

Kimball sits down and crosses his legs with a 
self-assurance that makes Bateman so nervous he forgets to 
carry on with his fake conversation. Kimball looks up at 
him curiously, noticing the silence.

BATEMAN 
(Realizing that Kimball is staring at him) 
Right. And yes...always tip the stylist fifteen percent.

Bateman shrugs at the detective, rolling his eyes in 
exasperation. 

KIMBALL nods understandingly.

BATEMAN 
Listen, John, I've got to go. T Boone Pickens just 
walked in...
(He laughs inanely) 
Just joking...
(Pause) 
No don't tip the owner of the salon. Okay, John, 
right, got it. 
(He hangs up the phone and pushes the antenna in) 
Sorry about that.

KIMBALL 
No, I'm sorry. I should've made an appointment. 
(Gesturing toward the phone) 
Was that anything important?

BATEMAN 
Oh that? Just mulling over business problems. 
Examining opportunities...Exchanging rumors...
Spreading gossip.

They laugh politely.

KIMBALL 
(Holding out his hand) 
Hi. I'm Donald KIMBALL

BATEMAN 
(Shaking firmly) 
Hi. Pat Bateman. Nice to meet you.

KIMBALL 
I'm sorry to barge in on you like this. but I was supposed 
to talk to Luis Carruthers and he wasn't in and...well, 
you're here, so...I know how busy you guys can get.

KIMBALL stares at the three open copies of Sports 
Illustrated and the Sony Walkman lying on Bateman's desk. 
Bateman sees the look and sweeps the magazines 
into the top drawer along with the Walkman, which is 
still running.

BATEMAN 
(Forcing himself to sound friendly and relaxed) 
So, what's the topic of discussion?

KIMBALL 
I've been hired by Meredith Powell to investigate 
the disappearance of Paul Owen.

BATEMAN 
You're not with the FBI or anything, are you?

KIMBALL 
Nothing like that. I'm just a private investigator.

BATEMAN 
Ah, I see...Yes. Paul's disappearance...Yes.

KIMBALL 
So it's nothing that official. I just have some 
basic questions. About Paul Owen. About yourself-

BATEMAN 
Coffee?

KIMBALL 
No. I'm okay.

BATEMAN 
Perrier? San Pellegrino?

KIMBALL 
No, I'm okay.

KIMBALL takes out a small black notepad and the same gold 
Cross pen that Bateman and his friends all use. Bateman buzzes 
Jean.

JEAN (O.S.) 
Patrick?

BATEMAN 
Can you bring Mr...

KIMBALL 
KIMBALL.

BATEMAN 
Mr. Kimball a bottle of San Pelle-

KIMBALL 
Oh no, I'm okay.

BATEMAN 
It's no problem

Bateman watches intently as KIMBALL writes something down 
in his notebook, then crosses something out. Jean enters 
and places the bottle of San Pellegrino and a Steuben etched 
glass on the table, shooting a concerned glance at Bateman. 
He glares at her. KIMBALL smiles and nods at Jean as she leaves.

BATEMAN 
Well, what's the topic of discussion?

KIMBALL 
The disappearance of Paul Owen.

BATEMAN 
Oh right. Well, I haven't heard anything about the 
disappearance or anything...
(Trying to laugh) 
Not on "Page Six" at least.

KIMBALL 
I think his family wants this kept quiet.

BATEMAN 
Understandable. 
(Staring at the untouched bottle of San Pellegrino) 
Lime?

KIMBALL 
No, really. I'm okay.

BATEMAN 
You sure? I can always get you a lime.

A pause.

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

BATEMAN 
Shoot.

KIMBALL 
How old are you?

BATEMAN 
Twenty-six. I'll be twenty-seven in October.

KIMBALL 
(Scribbling in his notebook) 
Where did you go to school?

BATEMAN 
Harvard. The Harvard Business School.

KIMBALL 
Your address?

BATEMAN 
Fifty-five West Eighty-First Street. The American
Gardens Building.

KIMBALL 
(Looking up, impressed) 
Nice. Very nice.

BATEMAN 
(Flattered) 
Thanks.

A pause as KIMBALL studies his notebook. Bateman closes his
eyes, as if in pain.

KIMBALL 
Pardon me, but are you okay?

BATEMAN 
Who do you ask?

KIMBALL
You seem...nervous.

Bateman reaches into his desk drawer and brings out a 
bottle of aspirin.

BATEMAN 
Nuprin?

KIMBALL Uh...no, thanks.

Kimball takes out a pack of Marlboro's and lays it on the 
desk.

BATEMAN 
Bad habit.

KIMBALL 
I know. I'm sorry.

A pause, as Bateman stares at the cigarettes.

KIMBALL 
Would you rather I not smoke?

BATEMAN 
No, I guess it's okay.

KIMBALL 
You sure?

BATEMAN 
No problem. 
(Buzzing Jean)

JEAN (O.S.) 
Yes, Patrick?

BATEMAN 
Bring us an ashtray for Mr. KIMBALL, please.
She whisks in with a crystal ashtray as they sit in silence.

KIMBALL 
What can you tell me about Paul Owen?

BATEMAN 
Well...

He coughs, shakes two Nuprin into his hand and swallows 
them dry.

KIMBALL 
How well did you know him?

BATEMAN 
I'm...at a loss. He was part of that whole...Yale thing, 
you know.

KIMBALL 
Yale thing?

A pause.

BATEMAN 
Yeah...Yale thing.

KIMBALL 
What do you mean...Yale thing?

A pause.

BATEMAN 
Well, I think for one that he was probably a closet 
homosexual. Who did a lot of cocaine...that Yale thing.

A silence during which the sound of the air conditioner 
becomes deafening.

KIMBALL 
So...there's nothing you can tell me about Paul 
Owen?

BATEMAN 
He led what I suppose was an orderly life. He...
ate a balanced diet.

KIMBALL 
What kind of man was he? Besides...
(He hesitates tries to smile) 
the information you've just given.

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

KIMBALL 
Do you feel that way?

BATEMAN 
No. Not really.

KIMBALL 
(As he writes without looking up) 
Where did Paul hang out?

BATEMAN 
Hang...out?

KIMBALL 
Yeah. You know...hang out.

BATEMAN 
Let me think. The Newport. Harry's. Fluties. Endochine.
Nell's. Comell Club. The New York Yacht Club. The regular 
places.

KIMBALL 
He had a yacht?

BATEMAN 
No, he just hung out there.

KIMBALL 
And where did he go to school?

A slight pause.

BATEMAN 
Don't you know this?

KIMBALL 
I just wanted to know if you know.
BATEMAN 
Before Yale? If I remember correctly, Saint Paul's...
Listen, I just...I just want to help.

KIMBALL 
I understand.

He makes another note.

KIMBALL 
Anything else you can tell me about Owen?

BATEMAN 
We were both seven in 1969.

KIMBALL 
(Smiles) 
So was I.

BATEMAN 
Do you have any witnesses or fingerprints?

KIMBALL 
Well, there's a message on his answering machine saying he 
went to London.

BATEMAN 
Well, maybe he did, huh?

KIMBALL 
His girlfriend doesn't think so.

BATEMAN 
But...has anyone seen him in London?

KIMBALL 
Actually, yes.

BATEMAN 
Hmmm.

KIMBALL 
Well, I've had a hard time getting an actual verification. 
A Stephen Hughes says he saw him at a restaurant there, but 
I checked it out and what happened is, he mistook a Hubert 
Ainsworth for Paul, so...

BATEMAN 
Oh.

KIMBALL 
Was he involved at all , do you think, in occultism or Satan
worship?

BATEMAN 
What?

KIMBALL 
I know it sounds like a lame question, but in New Jersey I 
know this sounds like a lame question, but last month-I don't 
know if you've heard about this, but a young stockbroker was 
recently arrested and charged with murdering a young Chicano 
girl and performing voodoo rituals with various body parts-

BATEMAN 
Yikes! No. Paul wasn't into that. He followed a balanced 
diet and-

KIMBALL 
Yeah, I know, and was into that whole Yale thing.

A pause - the longest so far.

BATEMAN 
Have you consulted a psychic?

KIMBALL 
No.

BATEMAN 
Had his apartment been burglarized?

KIMBALL 
No, it actually hadn't. Toiletries were missing. A 
suit was gone. So was some luggage. That's it.

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

KIMBALL 
No, not yet. As I said, we're not sure. But...
basically no one has seen or heard anything.

BATEMAN 
That's so typical, isn't it?

KIMBALL 
It's just strange. 
(He stares out the window, lost in thought) 
One day someone's walking around, going to work, alive, 
and then...

BATEMAN 
Nothing.

KIMBALL 
People just...disappear.

BATEMAN 
The earth just opens up and swallows people. 
(He checks his Rolex)

KIMBALL 
Eerie. Really eerie.

Silence.

BATEMAN 
(Standing up) 
You'll have to excuse me. I have a lunch meeting 
with Cliff Huxtable at Four Seasons in twenty minutes.

KIMBALL 
Isn't the Four Seasons a little far uptown? I 
mean aren't you going to be late?

BATEMAN 
Uh, no. There's one...down here.

KIMBALL 
Oh really? I didn't know that.

Bateman leads him to the door.

BATEMAN 
Yes. It's very good.

KIMBALL turns to face him.

KIMBALL 
Listen, if anything occurs to you, any information 
at all...

BATEMAN 
Absolutely, I'm 100% with you.

KIMBALL 
Great, and thanks for your, uh, time, Mr. Bateman.

Bateman closes the door firmly on KIMBALL. He closes his 
eyes and leans against the door, sweating.

INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - AFTERNOON 

A perfectly lit kitchen still-life - a bottle of Evian, 
a white porcelain plate on which sits a sliced kiwi, some perfect 
green grapes, a few berries.

OFFSCREEN, the SOUND OF SCREAMS AND A CHAINSAW can be heard 
from the living room.

The living room: Bateman is maniacally doing abdominal 
crunches as the television plays a video of Texas Chainsaw 
Massacre. There is a pile of horror videos on his coffee table, 
next to a copy of GQ.

LATER:

Bateman is sitting in his armchair, phone book in hand, 
jerking off. He is squealing into the phone and breathing.

BATEMAN 
You like that, slut?

The person on the other end clearly hangs up.

CLOSE-UP on his fingers dialing the phone.

BATEMAN 
You want to know what I'm wearing? Sixty-dollar 
boxer shorts by Ralph Lauren, a hundred-and-fifty-dollar white 
cotton T-shirt by 
Commes des Garcons. 
(He snorts like a pig) 
My Rolex cost-

Another hang-up. He dials again.

BATEMAN 
(Whipering) 
I'm a corporate raider. I orchestrate hostile takeovers. What do 
you think of that? 
(Makes disgusting sucking noises and grunts) 
Huh, bitch?

GIRL (O.S.)
Dad, is that you?

Bateman hangs up, frustrated.

EXT. STREET/INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT 

Bateman cruises around in the limo. It pulls up alongside 
CHRISTIE, a pretty blonde hooker in shorts and leather jacket. 
Bateman opens his window to speak to her.

BATEMAN 
I haven't seen you around here.

CHRISTIE 
You just haven't been looking.

BATEMAN 
Would you like to see my apartment?

Bateman flips on the light inside the limo. He's wearing a 
tuxedo.

CHRISTIE 
(looking away to some dark corner) 
I'm not supposed to.

Bateman is holding out a $100 bill, which Christie now 
notices, then takes.

BATEMAN 
Do you want to come to my apartment or not?

CHRISTIE 
I'm not supposed to. 
(She pockets the bill) 
But I can make an exception.

BATEMAN 
Do you take American Express?

Christie is still looking out behind her.

BATEMAN 
Do you take American Express?

Christie looks at him like he's crazy.

BATEMAN 
I'm joking. Come on, get in.

As they drive uptown, Bateman dials the cell-phone. He 
reads off a credit card number.

BATEMAN 
I'd like a girl, early twenties, blonde, who does 
couples. Couples. Fifty-five West Eighty-First, the 
American Gardens Building. Apartment 7C. And I really 
can't stress blonde enough. Blonde.

He hangs up.

BATEMAN I'm Paul. My name is Paul 0wen, have you'got that? 
You are Christie. You are to respond only to Christie. Is 
that clear?

INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 

Christie is in the bathtub, Bateman is pouring in white 
milky bath oil.

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

Long pause, in which Christie is luxuriating in the tub and 
Bateman is casually touching her breast.

BATEMAN 
I want you to clean your vagina.

Christie reaches for a washcloth.

BATEMAN 
No. From behind. Get on your knees.

Christie shrugs.

BATEMAN 
I want to watch. You have a very nice body.

The doorman RINGS. Bateman answers.

BATEMAN 
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.

Bateman answers the door.

BATEMAN 
You've arrived! How lovely, let me take your coat. 
I'm Paul. How good of you to come.

The escort girl looks somewhat bewildered. Bateman takes 
her coat and inspects her body and face.

BATEMAN 
Not quite blonde, are you? More dirty blonde. I'm 
going to call you Sabrina. I'm Paul Owen.

Bateman escorts her into the living room and brings her a 
glass of wine. Christie enters, sitting next to Sabrina on the 
couch, and Bateman sits across from them. There is a 
long silence.

BATEMAN 
So, don't you want to know what I do?

The two girls look at each other with uncomfortable smiles. 
Christie shrugs.

CHRISTIE 
No.

SABRINA 
(Smiling) 
No, not really.

Bateman is visibly irritated, recrosses his legs.

BATEMAN 
Well, I work on Wall Street. At Pierce & Pierce. 
(Long pause) 
Have you heard of it?

Another long pause. They shake their heads. Christie stands 
up and goes over to the CD collection.

CHRISTIE 
You have a really nice place here...Paul. 
How much did you pay for it?

BATEMAN 
Actually, that's none of your business, Christie, 
hut I can assure you it certainly wasn't cheap.

Bateman leaves to refill his wine glass and Sabrina takes a 
pack of cigarettes out of her purse.
Bateman returns, carrying a tray of chocolates.

BATEMAN 
No, no smoking. Not in here.

He walks over to Christie.

BATEMAN 
Varda truffle?

Christie stares at the plate and shakes her head. Sabrina 
takes one.

BATEMAN 
I don't want you to get drunk, but that's a very 
fine Chardonnay you're not drinking.

Bateman goes over to his CDs and scans his vast collection. 
He takes one out and examines it.

BATEMAN 
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. He puts aside the CD and takes out 
another one.

BATEMAN 
I think "Invisible Touch" is the group's undisputed
masterpiece.

He puts on the song and gestures for them to follow him 
into the bedroom.

BATEMAN 
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.

Bateman puts out a lace teddy. He motions to Christie to 
put it on.

BATEMAN 
Listen to the brilliant ensemble playing of Banks, 
Collins and Rutherford. You can practically hear every nuance 
of every instrument. Sabrina, remove your dress.

Bateman starts to undress.

BATEMAN 
In terms of lyrical craftsmanship and sheer 
songwriting, this album hits a new peak of professionalism. 
Sabrina, why don't you dance a little?

Sabrina dances awkwardly. Christie sits on the bed.

BATEMAN 
Take the lyrics to "Land of Confusion." In this 
song, Phil Collins addresses the problem of abusive political 
authority.

Bateman knots a silk scarf around Christie's neck - rather 
menacingly - then helps her into some suede gloves. 

BATEMAN 
"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.

He turns on the video camera. 

BATEMAN 
Christie, get down on your knees, so Sabrina can see your 
asshole.

Bateman looks through the viewfinder.

BATEMAN 
Phill Collins solo efforts seem 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. 

He walks over to the sound system in his bedroom and slides in 
the CD.

BATEMAN 
But I also think that Phill Collins works better 
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.

SEX MONTAGE CUT TO "Sussudio." We see this in WIDE SHOT, or 
through the LENS OF THE VIDEO CAMERA.

CUT TO: 

Bateman asleep in his bed with Christie and Sabrina 
on either side of him. Sabrina accidentally touches his 
wrist. Bateman's eyes open.

BATEMAN 
Don't touch the Rolex.

Bateman gets up from his bed and goes over to his armoire.

He opens the drawer in which are a nail gun, a coat hanger, 
a rusty butter knife and a half-smoked cigar. He turns 
around to see Christie and Sabrina both starting to get up 
and get dressed. He takes the coat hanger.

BATEMAN 
We're not through yet...

CUT TO:

Bateman ushering them out the door impatiently. They 
are both sobbing, badly bruised and bleeding. Bateman has a 
deep scratch on his hand and one on his shoulder. In the 
b.g. Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight" is playing.

INT. YALE CLUB – DAY
 
McDermott, Van Patten and Bateman are 
having drinks. Price walks by with a gorgeous girl and 
gives them the finger.

BATEMAN 
What an asshole.

McDERMOTT 
Why is Laurie Kennedy dating Price? He's a 
fucking drug addict. No self-control.

VAN PATTEN 
But Laurie Kennedy is a total hardbody. What do 
you think, Bateman?

BATEMAN 
I know her. I knew her.

McDERMOTT 
Why do you say it like that? Why does he say it 
like that?

VAN PATTEN 
Because he dated her.

BATEMAN 
How did you guess?

VAN PATTEN 
Girls dig Bateman. He's CQ. You're total CQ, 
Bateman.

BATEMAN 
Thanks, guy, but...she's got a lousy 
personality.

McDERMOTT 
So what? It's all looks. Laurie Kennedy is a 
babe. Don't even pretend you were interested for any other 
reason.

VAN PATTEN 
If they have a good personality, then something 
is very wrong.

McDERMOTT 
If they have a good personality and they are not 
great looking-who fucking cares?

BATEMAN 
Well, let's just say hypothetically, okay? What if 
they have a good personality? 
(He smiles giving up) 
I know, I know-

ALL IN UNISON
There are no girls with good personalities! 
(They laugh and high-five each other)

VAN PATTEN 
A good personality consists of a chick with a 
little hardbody who will satisfy all sexual demands without 
being too slutty about things and who will essentially keep 
her dumb fucking mouth 
shut.

McDERMOTT 
Listen, the only girls with good personalities who are
smart or maybe funny or halfway intelligent or even 
talented-though God knows what the fuck that means-are ugly 
chicks.

VAN PATTEN 
Absolutely.

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

Pause.

BATEMAN 
Do you know what Ed Gein said about women?

VAN PATTEN 
Ed Gein? Maitre d' at Canal Bar?

BATEMAN 
No, serial killer, Wisconsin in the fifties. He was 
an interesting guy.

McDERMOTT 
So what did Ed say?

BATEMAN 
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 and be real nice and sweet and treat 
her right."

Pauses, finishes his drink.

McDERMOTT 
What does the other part of him think?

BATEMAN 
What her head would look like on a stick.

McDermott and Van Patten look at each other and then back 
at Bateman. Bateman starts to laugh, and the other two uneasily
join In.

Luis Carruthers walks up to the table.

CARRUTHERS 
(Shyly) 
Hi, guys. I wanna get your opinion on something.

McDermott rolls his eyes at the rest of the table.

McDERMOTT If it's about the bow-tie you're wearing, you 
know how we feel about it. Luis laughs good-naturedly.

CARRUTHERS 
Yes, I do. No, it's my business card-I decided to 
get a new one too.

He pulls out something incredibly tasteful. Everyone 
compliments Luis except Bateman. The SOUND DROPS and all we hear 
is the beating of his heart as he stares at the card enviously. 
Luis plucks it from his hand and walks away, pleased with 
himself.

VAN PATTEN 
Listen, what about dinner?

BATEMAN 
(Suddenly angry) 
Is that all you ever have to contribute, Van Patten? "What about 
fucking dinner?" 

McDERMOTT 
Ah, cheer up, Bateman. 
(Slaps him on the back, massages his neck) 
What's the matter? No shiatsu this morning? 

BATEMAN 
(Watching Luis going into the men's room) 
Keep touching me like that and you'll draw back a stump.

McDERMOTT 
Whoa, hold on there, little buddy.

BATEMAN 
Excuse me.

He gets up from the table. As Bateman walks away, Van 
Patten grabs a waiter.

VAN PATTEN 
Is this tap water? I don't drink tap water Bring 
me an Evian or something, okay?

INT. MEN'S ROOM - DAY 

Bateman pulls on his gloves as he 
enters the men's room. Carruthers is standing in a stall with his 
back to Bateman. The sound of his urinating is heard until Bateman 
approaches, then abruptly stops. Slowly, Bateman brings his hands 
up over the collar of Carruthers' cashmere jacket, circling his 
neck until both thumbs and index fingers meet. All we can hear 
is the sound of Bateman's heavy breathing. Slowly he starts to 
squeeze. Almost in slow motion, Carruthers turns around.

Carruthers looks down at Bateman's wrists as if lost in 
thought. Then he lowers his head and kisses Bateman's 
wrist. He looks back at Bateman with a shy, love-struck 
expression, then reaches up and tenderly touches the side 
of his face.

CARRUTHERS 
God, Patrick. Why here?

He strokes Bateman's hair.

CARRUTHERS 
I've seen you looking at me. I've noticed your hot body.

Carruthers tries to kiss him on the lips but Bateman backs 
away. He drops his hands from Carruthers' neck. Carruthers 
immediately takes them and places them back. Bateman drops 
them again.

CARRUTHERS 
Don't be shy.

Bateman takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and tries to lift 
his hands again, but abandons the attempt.

CARRUTHERS 
You don't know how long I've wanted it. Ever since that Christmas 
party at Arizona 206. You know the one, you were wearing that 
red-striped paisley Armani tie.

Bateman looks down and sees that Carruthers' pants are 
still unzipped. He moves past him out of the stall and 
stands by the sink and pretends to wash his hands until he 
realizes he still has his gloves on. Carruthers comes up 
behind him.

CARRUTHERS 
I want you. I want you...too.

Bateman storms out of the men's room, bumping into a waiter 
and several customers and cursing. Noticing the maitre d' 
and another waiter conferring and looking at him strangely, 
Bateman straightens up and smiles and waves cheerfully at 
them. Carruthers walks up behind him.

BATEMAN 
(Hissing) 
What...is...it?

CARRUTHERS 
Where are you going?

BATEMAN 
(Stumbling away from him) 
I've gotta...I've 
gotta...return some videotapes.

CARRUTHERS 
Patrick?

BATEMAN 
What?
CARRUTHERS 
(Silently mouthing the words) 
I'll call you.

Bateman storms out of the restaurant.

INT. COURTNEY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 

Bateman is lying on top of Courtney in her bed, after sex. 
Still panting, he rolls off her, onto his back. He feels 
something lumpy underneath him and pulls out a stuffed toy, 
a black cat with blue jewel eyes. There is silence.

COURTNEY 
Will you call me before Thanksgiving?

BATEMAN 
Maybe.

Courtney sighs and reaches for a bottle of pills on her 
nightstand, swallowing several. Bateman gets up and begins 
to dress, admiring himself in the mirror. Courtney watches 
the TV at low volume.

COURTNEY 
What are you doing tonight?

BATEMAN 
Dinner at the River Cafe. Au Bar afterwards, maybe.

COURTNEY 
That's nice.

BATEMAN 
You and...Luis?

COURTNEY 
(Lighting a cigarette) 
We were supposed to have dinner at Tad and 
Maura's, but-you know how Luis is...

BATEMAN 
I never knew you smoked.

COURTNEY 
(Smiling sadly) 
You never noticed.

Bateman is making final adjustments to his tie.

COURTNEY 
Listen...Patrick. Can we talk?

BATEMAN 
You look marvelous. There's nothing to say. You're 
going to marry Luis. Next week, no Less.

COURTNEY 
(Sarcastically) 
Isn't that special? 
(A pause) 
Patrick?

BATEMAN 
Yes, Courtney?

C0URTNEY 
If I don't see you before Thanksgiving, have a nice one, okay?

BATEMAN 
(Flatly) 
You too.

Courtney picks up the black cat and starts petting its 
head. Bateman heads down the hallway to the front door.

COURTNEY 
Patrick?

BATEMAN 
Yes?

COURTNEY 
Nothing.

INT. NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT 

A big eighties nightclub with a mixed crowd: hip-hop 
kids, visitors from Jersey, downtown art people, yuppies.

I Bateman makes his way through the crowd to the bar, and 
tries to attract the bartender's attention. He is wearing a 
suit and his tie is loosened. Kimball approaches him.

KIMBALL 
Mr. Bateman?

Bateman gasps and recovers.

BATEMAN 
Detective Kendall...uh Campbell?
KIMBALL 
Kimball. 
(Extending his hand) 
Call me Don.

BATEMAN 
Don.

KIMBALL 
So...you hang out here a lot?

BATEMAN 
Uh, yes...I mean...whenever necessary. You 
know.

Pause.

BATEMAN 
How's the investigation going? Taken anyone 
in for "formal questioning?" (He makes quotation marks 
in the air and laughs a not-so-relaxed laugh)

KIMBALL 
0h no. Informal conversations, mostly. What's that, Stoli?

BATEMAN 
Yeah. No Finlandia, as usual. Fucking dump.

KIMBALL 
(Looking at his glass) 
Too true. You know, Bateman-people tend to reveal so much 
more about themselves when they're in a relaxed setting, 
don't you think?

Bateman is nodding nervously, idiotically.

KIMBALL 
Some people just can t help themselves. Another Stoli?

Bateman shakes his head.

KIMBALL 
I mean they want to get caught.

BATEMAN 
Dan, great to see you again. Like I said, you need 
anything at all, I'm your man. I don't envy your job. I mean 
Owen was a...complex man.

Bateman wanders away.

He looks back uneasily at KIMBALL, who is watching him from 
the bar. A GUY WITH DREADLOCKS walks by.

BATEMAN 
(Holding up his hand to high-five) Rasta Man!

The man stares at him.

BATEMAN 
I mean-Mon. We be jammin'...

The man walks by, shaking his head.

Bateman wanders into the next room, which is filled with a 
more familiar crowd: young men in designer suits, girls in 
black designer dresses. Across the room he spots McDermott 
and Price sitting with three models, all wearing black 
mini-dresses. Price and McDermott are having a whispered 
argument.

PRICE 
I have to talk to these girls? They're models.

McDERMOTT 
Someone has to get the Bolivian marching powder. 
You went last time. Stay here.

McDermott waves gaily to the girls and disappears.
Bateman looks at the models. DAISY and CARON are staring 
into space, smoking. LIBBY is trying to work out how to 
unfold her napkin. Price signals to Bateman for help.

PRICE 
(Clapping his hands together) 
Let's have a conversation. So...it was hot out today, no?

Silence.

LIBBY 
Where did Craig go?

PRICE 
Well, Gorbachev is downstairs. McDermott is going to 
sign a peace treaty with him between the United States 
and Russia. McDermott's the one behind glasnost, you know.

LIBBY 
Well...yeah. But he told me he was in mergers and acquisitions.

PRICE 
You're not confused, are you?

LIBBY 
No, not really.

CARON 
Gorbachev's not downstairs.

DAISY 
(Smiling) 
Are you Iying?

PRICE 
Yes, Caron's right. Gorbachev's not downstairs. He's 
at Tunnel.

BATEMAN 
(To Daisy) 
Ask me a question.

DAISY 
So, what do you do?

BATEMAN 
What do you think I do?

DAISY 
A model? An actor?

BATEMAN 
No. Flattering, but no.

DAISY 
Well...

BATEMAN 
I m into, well, murders and executions mostly.

DAISY (Unfazed) 
Do you like it?

BATEMAN 
Welt...it depends, why?

DAISY 
Well, most guys I know who work in mergers and 
acquisitions don't really like it.

Silence.

BATEMAN 
So, where do you work out?

MUCH LATER IN THE EVENING: 

The club is half-empty now. Price is leaning over a 
balcony, messed-up on drugs. Bateman comes up behind him 
in a menacing way that suggests he might push him over 
the railing. Price turns around, wild-eyed, just as Bateman 
is reaching for him.

PRICE 
(Shouting)
I'm leaving. I'm getting out.

BATEMAN 
Leaving what?

PRICE 
This.

Bateman is confused, he thinks Price is referring to his 
drink.

BATEMAN 
Don't, I'll drink it.

PRICE 
(Screaming) 
Listen to me, Patrick. I'm leaving.

BATEMAN 
Where to? Are you going to go get a gram?

PRICE 
I'm leaving! I...am...leaving!

BATEMAN 
Don't tell me...merchant banking?

PRICE 
No, you dumb son of a bitch. I'm serious. I'm 
disappearing.

BATEMAN 
(laughing) 
Where to? Morgan Stanley? Rehab? What?

Price looks away.

McDermott and Daisy walk up to them.

McDERMOTT 
Hey-don't worry, be happy.

Price lifts his arms up as if greeting the crowd and is 
shouting something that can't be heard, then

PRICE 
Goodbye! Fuckheads!

He climbs over the railing.

DAISY What is he doing?

BATEMAN 
Price! Come back!

Price leaps from the balcony. He disappears for a moment 
then resurfaces and runs off into the crowd.

EXT. CLUB - NIGHT 
Bateman and Daisy are waiting for a cab.

DAISY 
My ex-boyfriend, Fiddler, who was in there, he plays 
in this band that just opened for U2-he couldn't understand 
what I was doing with a yuppie.

BATEMAN 
Oh really?
DAISY 
He said...
(She laughs) 
He said you gave him bad vibes.

BATEMAN 
That's...that's too bad.

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

BATEMAN 
What?

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

BATEMAN 
(insincerely) No. I really don't.

DAISY 
That's okay. I don't mind. There's something sweet about you.

She takes his hand as they get into a cab.

INT. DAISY'S HALLWAY - LATER THAT NIGHT 

Bateman leaves Daisy's apartment carrying a suitcase. He pauses 
in the hallway and tucks some long blonde hair back inside the 
case.

INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON 

Bateman sits at his desk wearing Wayfarers doing the New York 
Times crossword puzzle at dusk.

Jean knocks gently on the half-open door and walks in with 
a folder in her hand. Bateman ignores her.

JEAN 
Doin' the crossword?

Bateman nods without looking up.

JEAN 
Need help?

BATEMAN doesn't respond. We see that every space on the 
puzzle has been filled in with the words MEAT or BONE. Jean 
drops the folder on his desk and then walks out.

BATEMAN 
Jean?

JEAN 
(Re-enters office) 
Yes, Patrick?

BATEMAN 
Would you like to accompany me to dinner?

He erases one of the M's on the crossword puzzle.

BATEMAN 
That is...if you're not doing anything.

JEAN 
Oh no. I have no plans.

BATEMAN 
(Lowering his Wayfarers) 
Well, isn't this a coincidence.

A pause.

BATEMAN 
Listen, where should we go?

He leans back and pulls a Zagat's from the desk drawer.

JEAN 
Anywhere you want?

BATEMAN 
Let's not think about what I want. How about 
anywhere you want.

JEAN 
Oh Patrick, I can't make this decision.

BATEMAN 
No, come on. Anywhere you want.

JEAN 
Oh, I can't. 
(Sighs) 
I don't know.

BATEMAN 
Come on. Where do you want to go? Anywhere you want.
Just say it. I can get us in anywhere.

A long pause.

JEAN 
What about...Dorsia?

Bateman stops looking through the Zagat's guide and smiles 
at her.

BATEMAN 
Soooo...Dorsia is where Jean wants to go...

JEAN 
Oh, I don't know. No, we'll go anywhere you want.

BATEMAN 
Dorsia is...fine.

He dials the number.

MAITRE D'
Dorsia, yes?

BATEMAN 
Yes, can you take two tonight, oh, let's say at 
nine o'clock?

He checks his Rolex and winks at Jean.

MAITRE D'
We are totally booked.

BATEMAN 
Oh really? That's great.

MAITRE D' 
I said we are totally booked.

BATEMAN 
Two at nine? Perfect.

MAITRE D' 
There are no tables available tonight. The waiting list is 
also totally booked.

BATEMAN 
See you then.

He hangs up the phone. He walks over to the coat rack. He 
glances over at Jean, who is still standing in front of the 
desk, confused.

BATEMAN 
Yes? You're dressed...okay.

JEAN 
You didn't give them a name.

BATEMAN 
They know me.

Pause.

BATEMAN 
Why don't you meet me at my house at seven o'clock 
for drinks, okay?

She turns to leave.

BATEMAN 
And Jean? You'll want to change before we go out.

INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - EARLY EVENING 

Jean stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out.

JEAN 
Patrick, it's so...elegant. What a wonderful view.

Bateman opens up the freezer where Daisy's head is cleady 
visible.

BATEMAN 
Jean? Sorbet?

JEAN 
Thanks, Patrick. I'd love some.

Bateman walks in with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew in 
his hand and hands her the sorbet.

Jean is eating the sorbet.

JEAN 
Want a bite?

BATEMAN 
I'm on a diet. But thank you.

JEAN 
You don't need to lose any weight. You're kidding, right? 
You look great. Very fit.

BATEMAN 
(Weighing the corkscrew examining the point for sharpness) 
You can always he thinner. Look...better.

JEAN 
Well, maybe we shouldn't go out to dinner. I don't 
want to ruin your willpower.

BATEMAN 
No. It's all right. I'm not very good at controlling 
it anyway.

Silence, as Bateman walks around his apartment, opens up 
his knife drawer, looking at the knives.

BATEMAN 
So listen, what do you really want to do with your 
life?

Pause.

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

JEAN 
Well, I'd like to travel. And maybe go back to school, 
but I really don't know...I'm at a point in my life 
where there seems lo be a lot of possibilities, but I'm so...
I don't know...unsure.

Bateman is touching a knife in the drawer, feeling the edge 
of the blade.

BATEMAN 
Do you have a boyfriend?

JEAN 
No, not really.

BATEMAN 
Interesting.

JEAN 
(Shyly) 
Are you seeing anyone? I mean, seriously?

BATEMAN 
Maybe. I don't know Not really.
Bateman opens up a cupboard where there are a lot of very 
Bateman opens a cupboard where there are a lot of neatly
ordered weapons - an ax, a rifle, a chain saw, duct tape, 
twine and a nail gun.

BATEMAN 
Jean, do you feel...fulfilled? I mean, in your life?

JEAN 
Well, I guess I do. For a long time I was too focused 
on my work, I think, but now I've really begun to think about 
changing myself, you know, developing, and...growing.

BATEMAN 
Growing. I'm glad you said that.

Bateman picks up the duct tape.

BATEMAN 
Did you know that Ted Bundy's first dog, a collie, 
was named Lassie? Had you heard this?

JEAN 
Who's Ted Bundy?

BATEMAN 
Forget it.

JEAN 
What's that?

BATEMAN 
Oh. Uh, tape. Duct tape. I...need it for...
taping something. Bateman goes back to the cupboard for the 
nail gun.

JEAN 
Patrick, have you ever wanted to make someone happy?

Jean puts her spoon down on the table.

BATEMAN 
(Looking up from loading nails into the gun) 
What...No! Put it in the carton.

JEAN 
Sorry. 
(She puts the spoon in the carton)

BATEMAN 
Jean? What?

JEAN 
Make someone happy-have you ever wanted to?

From behind, we follow Bateman as he walks across the room and
stands behind the couch.

BATEMAN 
I'm looking for...I guess you could say I just 
want to have a meaningful relationship with someone special.

JEAN 
Hmmmm. 

He points the nail gun at the back of Jean's head.
The phone RINGS. Startled, Bateman hides the nail gun 
behind his back. The answering machine picks up. As Bateman 
listens he discreetly places the nail gun behind the couch. 
He sits down opposite Jean, enjoying her discomfort as she 
listens to the message.

EVELYN 
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 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, 
auld Taylor, he went to Cornell-and we're meeting at the Cornell 
Club, so l'll call you tomorrow morning probably-bye, honey-oopps! 
You hate that. Bye Mr. Big Time CEO Patrick. Bye. Bye.

Silence. Jean is obviously embarrassed and upset.

JEAN 
Was that...Evelyn?

Silence.

JEAN 
Are you still seeing her?

Silence.

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

Silence.

JEAN 
Do you want me to go?

A long pause.

BATEMAN 
Yes. I don t think I can...control myself.

JEAN 
I know I should go. I know I have a tendency to get 
involved with unavailable men, and...I mean, do you 
want me to go?

Another long pause.

BATEMAN 
If you stay, I think something bad will happen. I 
think I might hurt you. 
(Almost hopefully) 
You don't want to get hurt, do you?

JEAN 
No. No, I guess not. I don't want to get bruised. 
You're right, I should go.

She gets up to leave.

JEAN 
And don't forget you have a breakfast meeting with 
Frederick Bennet and Charles Rust at '21.

BATEMAN 
Thanks. It slipped my mind completely.

He sinks back on the sofa and shuts his eyes.

INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - DAY 

Bateman enters P&P, walks up the corridor and pauses outside 
the door to his office. He sees KIMBALL in conversation with 
Jean, and Jean looking through her date book. He watches for 
a moment, frozen with anxiety. He then bursts in, shutting 
the door behind him.

BATEMAN 
Kimball-I've been wanting to talk with you, Come 
into my office. Jean, great jacket. Matsuda?

Jean looks flustered.

Kimball follows Bateman into his office.

KIMBALL 
I actually came to see Timothy Price, but he's 
taken a leave of absence.

BATEMAN 
Yeah, gone into rehab. Shame. 
(Hopefully) 
Is he a suspect?

KIMBALL 
Not really.

A pause.

KIMBALL 
Do you remember where you were on the night of 
Paul's disappearance? 
(He checks his notebook) 
Which was on the twentieth of December?

BATEMAN 
God...I guess...I was probably returning 
videotapes.

He opens his desk drawer and pretends to search through his 
diary.

BATEMAN 
I had a date with a girl named Veronica.

KIMBALL 
Wait. That's not what I've got.

BATEMAN 
What?

KIMBALL 
That's not the information I've received.

BATEMAN 
Well...I...Wait...What information have 
you received?

KIMBALL 
Let's see...
(He flips through his notebook) 
That you were with-

BATEMAN 
Well, I could he wrong.

KIMBALL 
Well...When was the last time you were with Paul Owen?

BATEMAN 
(Clearly nervous and under pressure) 
We had...gone to a new musical called...Oh Africa, Brave Africa. It 
was...a laugh riot...and that's about it. I think we had dinner 
at Orso's. No, Petaluma. No, Orso's. The...last time I 
physically saw him was...at an automated teller. I can't 
remember which...just one that was near, um, Nell's.

Kimball is clearly giving up on Bateman for now. He opens 
his briefcase to put away his notebook.

KIMBALL 
Well, thank you, Mr. Bateman.

BATEMAN 
Patrick, please. I hope I've been informative. Long 
day-a bit scattered.

KIMBALL 
Listen, I'm a little spent for now but how about lunch 
in a week or so when I've sorted out all this information?

BATEMAN 
Great, yes, I'd like that.

KIMBALL 
And if you could try and pin down where you were 
the night of Owen's disappearance, it would make my job a 
lot easier.

BATEMAN 
Absolutely. I'm with you on that one.

Kimball is rifling through his briefcase. He pulls out a 
new shrink wrapped CD and holds it up.

KIMBALL 
Huey Lewis and the News. Great stuff. Heard it? I 
just bought it on my way here.

Bateman stares at the CD - stunned, terrified.

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

KIMBALL 
Not a big music fan, eh?

BATEMAN 
No, I like music. Just-they're-Huey's too...
black sounding. For me.

KIMBALL 
Well, to each his own. So-lunch, Thursday? I'll 
call your secretary about reservations.

BATEMAN 
I'll be there.

EXT. MEAT PACKING DISTRICT/INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT

The same street corner where Bateman found Christie before. 
The limo is kept idling as he talks to her through a 
half-opened window.

CHRISTIE 
I'm not so sure about this. I had to go to Emergency after 
last time...

BATEMAN 
Oh this won't be anything like last time, I promise.

CHRISTIE 
I don't think so.

He hands her a $500 bill.

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

The driver's here, you'll be safe.

Christie gets in hesitantly.

BATEMAN 
Nothing like last time, promise.

CHRISTIE 
Alright.

He pours her a shot of vodka and makes her drink it.

BATEMAN 
(Chatting as if they were at a cocktail party) 
So, you're looking great, how have you been?

CHRISTIE 
(A little confused) 
Well, I actually might need a little surgery after last time.

BATEMAN 
(Mock shock) 
Really?

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

BATEMAN 
Oh, lawyers are so complicated-don't do that. Here.

He writes her a check for $I ,000 to cash and hands it to 
her. She snatches the check out of his hand and gets 
quickly out of the limo, walking hurriedly down the street.

BATEMAN 
Bitch.

He follows alongside her slowly in the limo, waving a huge 
wad of cash at her. She hesitates; he uses the money to 
lure her into the car. As she reluctantly gets into the 
limo, she reaches for the money.

He snatches it away.

BATEMAN 
Uh uh uh. Half now, half later.

She takes the money and puts it inside her shirt.

BATEMAN 
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. Don't say anything 
about yourself. Is that clear. Christie?

Christie nods.

INT. PAUL OWEN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 

The living room: ELIZABETH has kicked off her shoes and flopped 
down on the couch underneath the Baselitz. Elizabeth is an 
attractive, dark-haired society girl who models occasionally. 
Christie is sitting on the couch opposite her, pretending to 
examine a CD.

ELIZABETH 
You look really familiar. Did you you go to Dalton?

Christie shakes her head.

The kitchen: Bateman is grinding up tabs of Ecstasy and 
putting them in a bottle of wine. In the living room, Elizabeth 
is still staring at Christie as if she came from Mars.

ELIZABETH 
I think I met you at Au Bar, didn't I ? With Spicey?

Christie looks blank.

ELIZABETH 
Well, maybe not with Spicey but it was definitely at Au Bar.

Christie still blank.

ELIZABETH 
You know, Au Bar?

Christie shakes her head.

ELIZABETH 
Anyway, Au Bar sucks now, it's terrible. I went to a birth
day party there for Malcolm Forbes. Oh my God, please.

Bateman enters carrying the bottle of wine and two glasses.
Christie, who seems frightened, sips her wine and stares at 
the floor. There is an awkward silence.

CHRISTIE 
This is nicer than your other apartment.

BATEMAN 
(Offended that she prefers Owen's apartment) 
It's not that nice.

Silence.

CHRISTIE 
Where did you two meet?

ELIZABETH 
Oh God! I met him at, oh God, the Kentucky Derby in '86-no, 
'87, and...
(Turning to Patrick) 
You were hanging out with that bimbo Allison Poole. 
(Sarcastically) 
Hot number.

BATEMAN 
What do you mean, she was a hot number.

ELIZABETH 
If you had an American Express card she'd give you a blowjob. 
(To Christie) 
Listen, this girl worked in a tanning salon, need
I say more?...What do you do?

A long silence. Christie reddens and stares at the floor. 

BATEMAN 
She's my...cousin. 

ELIZABETH 
(Skeptically) 
Uh huh? 

BATEMAN
She's from...France.

A pause. Elizabeth looks at Bateman dubiously. 

ELIZABETH 
Where's your phone? I've got to call Harley.

Bateman hands her a cordless phone. She dials, and stares 
At Christie while she waits for someone to answer. 

ELIZABETH 
Where do you summer? Southampton?

Christie looks at Bateman and then back at Elizabeth.

CHRISTIE 
No.

ELIZABETH 
(Listening to the receiver) 
Oh God, it's his machine.

BATEMAN 
Elizabeth, it's three in the morning.

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

BATEMAN 
Don't tell him you're here.

ELIZABETH 
Why would I?

Bateman has poured her another glass of wine. She downs the
whole glass, making a face.

ELIZABETH 
This tastes weird. 
(She examines the label and shrugs)
Harley? It's me. I need your services. Translate that anyway 
you'd like. I'm at-

BATEMAN 
(Whispering) 
You're at Paul Owen s.

ELIZABETH 
Who?

BATEMAN 
(Whispering) 
Paul Owen.

ELIZABETH 
I want the number, idiot. 
(She waves him away and continues into the reciever) 
Anyway, I'm at Paul Norman's and I'll try you later and if I 
don't see you at Canal Bar tomorrow night I'm going to sic my 
hairdresser on you.

She hangs up.

ELIZABETH 
Did you know that guy who disappeared? Didn't he work at Pierce 
& Pierce, too? Was he a friend of yours?

BATEMAN 
No.

ELIZABETH 
Do you have any coke? Or Halcyon? I'd take a Halcyon.

Bateman sits next to Elizabeth on the couch and pours her 
another glass of the drugged wine.

BATEMAN 
Listen, I would just like to see...the two of you...get it on. 
What's wrong with that? It's totally disease-free.

ELIZABETH 
(Laughing) 
Patrick, you re a lunatic.

BATEMAN 
Come on. Don't you find Christie attractive?

ELIZABETH 
Let's not get lewd. 
(Flirty) 
I'm in no mood to have a lewd conversation.

BATEMAN 
Come on. I think it would be a turn-on.

ELIZABETH 
(To Christie) 
Does he do this all the time?

Christie shrugs.

BATEMAN 
Christie, you're not drinking your wine.

Christie looks at her wine and gingerly takes a sip.

BATEMAN 
(To Elizabeth) 
Are you telling me you've never gotten it on with a girl?

ELIZABETH 
No! I'm not a lesbian. Why do you think I'd be into that?

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

ELIZABETH 
Those are Sarah Lawrence guys, Patrick. You're making me 
feel weird.

LATER:

Elizabeth is now writhing around on the couch and making 
out with Christie. Bateman holds up a Whitney Houston CD, 
showing them the picture of Whitney on the cover.

BATEMAN 
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? Whitney's voice leaps 
across so many boundaries and is so versatile-though she's 
mainly a jazz singer-that it's hard to take in the album 
on a first listening.

ELIZABETH 
You actually listen to Whitney Houston? You 
actually have a Whitney Houston CD? More than one?

She giggles, rolling off the sofa onto the floor.

BATEMAN 
(Ignoring her) 
It's hard to choose a favorite track 
among so many great ones, 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. to act kinder. 
Since, Elizabeth, it's impossible in the world we live in 
to empathize with others, we can always empathize with 
ourselves.

As he speaks, he opens the case and carefully places the CD 
in the player, admiring its pristine silver surface, and 
watches it slide into the machine.

BATEMAN 
It's an important message, crucial, really, and it's 
beautifully stated on the album.

INT. BEDROOM - LATER 

AN OUT-OF-FOCUS HOME VIDEO SHOT of Elizabeth, Christie and 
Bateman in the throes of sex, in the master bedroom.

CUT BACK TO WIDE SHOT of the bedroom, partially blocked by 
the video camera in the foreground. Their bodies are an 
incoherent tangle of arms and legs. The only sounds are 
moans, heavy breathing and the slapping of flesh against 
flesh. CLOSE ON Christie's head and shoulders. Her eyes are 
shut as she grimly concentrates on giving a good professional 
performance, turning her head every so often to check the 
progress of her partners.

OFFSCREEN WE HEAR Elizabeth panting in genuine pleasure, 
moaning loudly. Her voice gets louder and louder and then 
shifts to actual pain.

Bateman rises up off the bed, suddenly appearing behind 
Christie. There is blood on his face.

Christie turns her head and sees him. She screams and leaps 
off the bed, running out of the room. She slams the 
mirrored door behind her, and as it swings shut for a split 
second we see Elizabeth writhing in pain on the bed.

We follow Christie out of the room, panicking, screaming.

Christie runs down a darkened hallway, frantically opening 
doors, looking for an escape.

She hears the SOUND OF A CHAINSAW coming from the bedroom.

She opens a closet. The closet lights up as she opens the 
door and sees two dead, women hanging inside. She screams, 
then claps a hand over her mouth. She stops and listens. THE 
DISTANT SOUND OF THE CHAINSAW.

She backs away slowly, into another dark room, lit only by 
the light from a television set. Through the darkness she 
sees a head on the top of the TV and starts to whimper.

She runs toward the nearest door. Finding herself in the 
main hallway, she begins to jog toward the front door, then 
runs.

Bateman appears from nowhere, holding the chainsaw, 
spattered with blood.

Christie screams and changes direction. Bateman leaps at 
her, bellowing.

They run through the bedroom and into the bathroom. 
Christie trips over Elizabeth's body, which is half in the 
bathtub.

Both are slipping on the floor, which is slick with blood.

Christie falls, tries to get up. Bateman grabs her leg. He 
tries to bite it.

She kicks him in the face and gets up, running toward the 
front door.

He runs after her.

BATEMAN 
Not the face, you bitch. Not the fucking face, you 
piece of bitch trash!

Christie, screaming, makes it out the front door.

Bateman runs after her.

She runs down the hall screaming and banging on doors.

She moves to the elevator, pounding hysterically on the 
buttons. She sees the stairwell and runs for it.

Bateman sees this and runs after her, revving the chainsaw.

She runs down the stairs, Bateman two flights behind her. 
He stops, leans over the railing to look at her, then aims 
the chainsaw at her and drops it.

Christie SCREAMS OFFSCREEN, then is suddenly silent.

FROM BATEMAN'S POV we see Christie's body sprawled facedown 
at the bottom of the stairwell. The chainsaw sticks out of 
her back like a sword.

INT. CRAYONS - EARLY EVENING 

An insanely expensive restaurant with a childhood motif: paper 
tablecloths and jars of crayons for drawing, lots of primary 
colors, and a goldfish bowl on each table.

Bateman is at a table with Evelyn. They are both drawing on 
the tablecloth. Bateman is drawing Christie with the 
chainsaw in her back.

EVELYN 
I want a firm commitment.

BATEMAN 
I think, Evelyn, that we've...lost touch.

Evelyn waves to a couple across the room.

EVELYN 
(Distracted) 
Why? What's wrong?

BATEMAN 
(Speaking very carefully, measuring each word) 
My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale 
cannot be, um, corrected, but I have no other way to fulfill 
my needs.

The woman across the room holds up her hand, displaying a
new bracelet. Evelyn smiles and nods approvingly.

BATEMAN 
We need to talk.

EVELYN 
Talk about what, Patrick? What is there to talk 
about?

BATEMAN 
It's over, Evelyn. It's all over

EVELYN 
(Motioning to the waiter for water) 
Touchy, touchy. I'm sorry I brought the wedding up. Let's just 
avoid the issue, alright? Now, are we having coffee?

BATEMAN 
I'm fucking serious. It's fucking over. Us. This 
is no joke. I don't think we should see each other anymore.

EVELYN 
But your friends are my friends. My friends are your 
friends. I don't think it would work. 
(Reaching over to dab his face with a napkin) 
You have a little something on your upper lip.

BATEMAN 
(Brushing her hand away) 
I know that your friends are my friends. I've thought about 
that. You can have them.

Evelyn stares at him, suspicious and bewildered, a 
realization dawning.

EVELYN 
You're really serious, aren't you?

BATEMAN 
Yes, I am.

EVELYN 
But what about the past? Our past?

BATEMAN 
We never really shared one.

EVELYN 
You're inhuman.

BATEMAN 
I'm...in touch with humanity. Evelyn, I'm sorry. 
(He pauses, as if searching for the right words) 
You're just not terribly important to me.

Evelyn begins to cry.

EVELYN 
No, no, no.

BATEMAN 
I know my behavior is...erratic sometimes.

She reaches desperately across the table and takes his 
hand. Bateman pulls his hand away.

EVELYN 
(Sobbing) 
What do you want me to do, what is it you want?

The occupants of nearby tables begin to stare. Bateman is
becoming increasingly agitated and embarrassed.

BATEMAN 
(Looking uncomfortably around the room) 
If you really want to do something for me, you can stop making 
this scene right now.

EVELYN 
Oh God, I can't believe this.

BATEMAN 
I'm leaving now. I've assessed the situation and I'm going.

Evelyn makes an effort to compose herself. She blots the 
tears so they will not affect her make-up.

EVELYN 
(Surprisingly calm) 
Where are you going?

BATEMAN 
I'm just leaving.

EVELYN 
But where?

BATEMAN 
I have to return some videotapes.

He rushes out of the room.

EXT. TRIBECA STREET - EVENING 

Bateman wanders into misty Tribeca streets, sees a stray cat.

BATEMAN 
Here kitty, kitty.

The small mangy cat rubs against him. He picks it up and 
walks toward an ATM, holding the cat. He puts his card in 
the machine. The screen reads: FEED ME A STRAY CAT.
Bateman begins to attempt to shove the kitten into the 
deposit slot with some difficulty. The kitten squeals. He 
takes a gun from out of his pocket and points it at the 
kitten. He doesn't notice the woman waiting behind him.

WOMAN 
Oh my God! Stop that! What are you doing?

Bateman wheels around and shoots her. She falls screaming 
to the floor.

Responding to the gunshot, A POLICE CAR SIREN WAILS in the 
distance. Bateman breaks into a run. The police car 
screeches after him.

COP CAR (O.S.)
HALT STOP. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON.

Bateman ducks down an alley.

EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT 

A COP rushes toward him, seemingly from 
out of nowhere, and tackles him, trying to get the gun away 
from him.

Bateman manages to shoot the cop in the face while both of 
them have their hands on the gun, then shoots him again. He 
reloads the gun. The sound of more COP CARS arriving.

He runs out of the alley.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

As he reaches the street, he finds A PHALANX OF POLICE CARS
approaching.

COP CAR 
Halt. Put down your weapon.

The cops leap out and fire a warning shot in the air. 
Bateman shoots at them. The police return fire.

Bateman ducks down behind a parked car and continues
shooting wildly. A bullet hits the gas tank of one of the 
police cars. It catches fire and explodes. The flames light 
up the scene, illuminating the bodies of policemen both living 
and dead.

NEW ANGLE: Bateman flees from the scene. The camera follows 
him as he runs along a row of Porsches, trying to open each 
one, setting off a cacophony of CAR ALARMS.
THE SOUND OF POLICE SIRENS draws near.

NEW ANGLE: He runs, panting, until he ends up in front of a 
tail, brilliantly lit office building. As he approaches, 
the lights in the building are going off floor by floor.

INT. OFFICE BUILDING - NIGHT 

He rushes into the lobby, running for the elevator.

NIGHT WATCHMAN 
Burning the midnight oil, Mr. Smith? You 
forgot to sign in.

Bateman wheels around and shoots him. He runs toward the 
revolving doors. As he swings around in the doors, he 
notices a JANITOR who has witnessed the shooting. He 
revolves back into the lobby and shoots the janitor.

NEW ANGLE: 

He runs out of the building and across the 
street to an identical office building, the one that houses 
Pierce & Pierce.

INT. PIERCE & PIERCE LOBBY - NIGHT 

Bateman nods at the Pierce & Pierce NIGHT WATCHMAN and signs 
in. He breathes a sigh of relief as the elevator doors close 
behind him.

INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT 

Bateman stands looking out 
through the floor-length windows at a panoramic night view 
of the city and the river.

Below him he sees a SWAT TEAM swarming over the roof of the 
opposite building. There are ambulances standing by, flares 
everywhere, distant sirens.

Suddenly, THE SOUND OF A HELICOPTER draws near. Frightened, 
he drops to the floor behind his desk.

Helicopter searchlights scan the building, illuminating 
Bateman's office for a few moments with a blaze of light.

He is crouched in one corner, half-sobbing, talking into 
the phone, as the searchlight keeps circling.

BATEMAN 
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 an apartment uptown, some 
homeless people, maybe five or ten, an NYU girl I met in 
Central Park. I left her in a parking lot, near Dunkin' 
Donuts. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail 
gun. and a man, some old faggot with a dog. Last week I 
killed another girl with a chainsaw-I had to, she almost 
got away There was someone else there, maybe a model, I 
can't remember but she's dead too. And Paul Owen. I killed 
Paul Owen 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 20 people, maybe 40-I have tapes 
of a lot of it. Some of the girls have seen the tapes, I even...
well, I ate some of their brains and I tried to cook a little. 
Tonight I just, well, I had to kill a lot of people and I'm not 
sure I 'm going to get away with it this time-I mean I guess 
I'm a pretty sick guy. So-if you get hack tomorrow, I may show 
up at Harry's Bar, so, you know, keep your eyes open.

Bateman hangs up the phone. The helicopter searchlight 
circles back, briefly illuminating the room. The camera rises 
up over Bateman huddled in the corner, staring blankly at the 
sky.

INT. SMITH AND WOLLENSKY RESTAURANT - DAY 

KIMBALL and Bateman are sitting at a corner table.

KIMBALL 
(Very surprised) 
No hash browns? 

BATEMAN 
Not in the mood, I guess.

KIMBALL 
But...everyone orders the hash browns here. I 
mean- it's-have you been here before?

BATEMAN 
(Deliberately nonchalant) 
Yes, of course. The hash browns are delicious. I'm just...not...
ordering them.

KIMBALL 
(Looking at him like he's nuts) 
Suit yourself, I guess.

Pause.

KIMBALL 
So, the night he disappeared? Any new thoughts on 
what you did?

BATEMAN 
I'm not really sure. I had a shower...and some 
sorbet?

KIMBALL 
I think maybe you've got your dates mixed up.

BATEMAN 
But how? Where do you place Paul that night?

KIMBALL 
According to his date book, and this was verified by his 
secretary, he had dinner with...Marcus Halberstam.

BATEMAN 
And?

KIMBALL 
I've questioned him.

BATEMAN 
Marcus?

KIMBALL 
Yes. And he denies it. Though at first he couldn't 
be sure.

BATEMAN 
But Marcus denied it?

KIMBALL 
Yes.

BATEMAN 
Well, does Marcus have an alibi?

KIMBALL 
Yes.

A pause.

BATEMAN 
He does? You're sure?

KIMBALL 
(smiling)
I checked it out. It's clean.

BATEMAN 
Oh.
KIMBALL Now where were you? 
(He laughs) 

BATEMAN 
(Laughing with him) 
Where was Marcus? 

KIMBALL 
He wasn't with Paul 
Owen. 

BATEMAN 
So who was he with? 

KIMBALL 
He was at Atlantis with Craig McDermott, Frederick Dibble, 
Harry Newman, George Butner and – 
(He pauses, Then looks up) 
- you.

A moment of stunned silence.

BATEMAN 
Oh, right. Of course...We had wanted Paul Owen 
to come. But he said he had plans...I guess I had dinner 
with Victoria...the following night. 

KIMBALL 
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. 
(A pause) 
I mean, to think that one of his friends 
killed him, for no reason whatsoever would be too 
ridiculous. Isn't that right, Patrick? 

McDermott stops by the table. 

McDERMOTT 
KIMBALL! How's the investigation? 
Talking to Bateman? Don't believe a word he says. 
(Laughs uproariously slapping him on the back) 
Bateman, what's wrong with ,you? 

Bateman looks at him in silence, 
panicking. 

McDERMOTT 
You can't eat at Smith and Wollensky 
without ordering the hash browns. Jesus, Bateman, you're a 
raving maniac. Been at Pierce & Pierce too long. 
(He wanders off muttering) 
No fucking hash browns...

INT. PAUL OWEN'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY

Bateman walks into the lobby of Paul Owen's building. He 
has a surgical mask in one hand.

DOORMAN 
What can I do for you, sir?

BATEMAN 
20B.

DOORMAN 
Of course. Mrs. Wolfe is up there right now.

BATEMAN 
Mrs. Wolfe?

DOORMAN 
The real estate agent? You do have an appointment,
don't you?

Bateman steps out of the elevator and walks cautiously down
the hallway. Owen's door is open. The apartment is freshly 
painted and has been immaculately redecorated in English 
country-house style: overstuffed sofas, lots of chintz. There 
are flowers everywhere, and a YOUNG YUPPIE COUPLE stands 
admiring the place talkingto the realtor, MRS. WOLFE. Bateman 
wanders down the hallway, looking for familiar signs. He stops 
at the closet where we last saw two dead girls hanging. He 
opens the door and the light switches on, but it is empty. Mrs. 
Wolfe approaches, smiling.

MRS. WOLFE 
Are you my two o'clock?

BATEMAN 
No.

Mrs. Wolfe eyes him strangely, then looks down at the 
surgical mash clutched in his hand. Her expression changes.

MRS. WOLFE 
Can I help you?

BATEMAN
I'm looking for...Paul Owen's...place.

She stares at him impassively.

BATEMAN 
Doesn't he live here?

MRS. WOLFE 
No, he doesn't.

BATEMAN 
Are you sure?

MRS. WOLFE 
You saw the ad in the Times?

BATEMAN 
No. Yes. I mean yes, I did. In the Times. But...
doesn't Paul Owen still live here?

MRS. WOLFE 
There was no ad in the Times.

Bateman is shaking as they continue to stare at each other.

MRS. WOLFE 
I think you should go now.

BATEMAN 
But I think...I want to know what happened 
here.

MRS. WOLFE 
Don't make any trouble. Please. I suggest you go.

Bateman backs away slowly.

MRS. WOLFE 
Don't come back.

BATEMAN 
I won't...don't worry.

Mrs. Wolfe glares at him as he walks down the hall, 
rattled, and gets into the elevator.

EXT. DEPARTMENT STORE - DAY 

Bateman enters the revolving 
door of an office building, panicking and breathing 
heavily. He is sweating, his hair is wild, and he looks 
deranged. He goes around the revolving door twice and comes 
out onto the street again, where he bumps smack into a GUY 
just like him.

GUY 
Hey, Kinsley.

Bateman looks up at him wild-eyed.

GUY 
See you at Fluties, okay?

The guy walks away, utterly unfazed. Bateman wanders down 
the street, banging his briefcase against walls, garbage 
cans, etc.

EXT. MIDTOWN PHONE BOOTH - DAY 

Bateman searches his pockets 
for pills. He finds three different pills and swallows 
them. He's sweating, and takes his jacket off to wipe his 
face, dialing a number.

JEAN (O.S.) 
Patrick Bateman's office.

BATEMAN 
Jean? Hello? Jean?

JEAN (O.S.) 
Patrick? Is that you?

BATEMAN 
Hello? Jean, I need help!

JEAN (O.S.)
Where are you?

BATEMAN 
Jean-I'm not-

JEAN (O.S.) 
Craig McDermott called. He wants to meet you and 
David Van Patten and Tim Price at Harry's for drinks.

BATEMAN 
Oh God, what did you say, you dumb bitch?

JEAN (O.S.) 
Patrick? I can't hear you.

BATEMAN 
What are I doing?

JEAN (O.S.) 
Where are you? Patrick, what's wrong?

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

Pause.

BATEMAN 
...to the office this afternoon.

JEAN (O.S.) 
Why?

BATEMAN 
(Screaming) 
Just...say...no!

JEAN (O.S.) 
What is it, Patrick? Are you alright?

BATEMAN 
Stop sounding so Fucking sad! Jesus!

He hangs up. He throws the Walkman which is around his neck 
into a nearby trash can, and wipes his face with his 
jacket.

INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE- SAME DAY 

Jean sits at Bateman's desk. She looks around, and then opens 
his desk drawer and tentatively begins to search through it.

INT. HARRY'S BAR - EVENING 

Bateman comes into the bar, a little cleaned up from the 
previous scene (he's smoothed his hair), but still panicking 
and disheveled. He spots his friends in a corner, sits down, 
still breathing heavily.

Price is on his cell-phone, trying to get reservations.

McDERMOTT 
Bateman, you're looking a little wild-eyed rough 
day at the office?

They all laugh.

McDERMOTT 
Hey, look-Price is back. And he's drinking 
Perrier. He s a changed man. Except...he still can't 
get a reservation to save his life.

Bateman sits down silently.

McDERMOTT 
Why don't you try I 50 Wooster? Just fucking call them.

BATEMAN 
(On automatic) 
I'm not going anywhere unless we 
have a reservation.

VAN PATTEN Le Cirque, Flamingo East, Oyster Bar, come on, 
faggots-just get a res.

PRICE 
Keep your shirt on. Maybe lose the suspenders.

Bateman spots HAROLD CARNES at the bar, tenses. 

BATEMAN 
(He downs his drink) 
Excuse me, gentlemen. Right back.
He approaches Carnes cautiously. 

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

Bateman approaches, trying to act casual.

BATEMAN 
Shut up, Carnes, they will not.

Carnes is surprised, turns around, looks vaguely confused.

BATEMAN 
So, Harold, did you get my message?

Carnes lights a cigarette, stalling. Then laughs.

CARNES 
Jesus, Davis. Yes. That was hilarious. That was you, 
wasn't it?

BATEMAN 
(Waving smoke out of his face) 
Yes, naturally.

CARNES 
Bateman killing Owen and the escort girls? Oh that s 
fabulous. That's rich...

Pause

CARNES 
It was a pretty long message, wasn't it?

BATEMAN 
What exactly do you mean?

CARNES 
The message you left.

Carnes is distracted, waving at people.

CARNES 
By the way Davis, how is Cynthia? You're still 
seeing her, right?

BATEMAN 
But wait, Harold, what do you mean?

Carnes isn't really listening.

CARNES 
Excuse me. Nothing. Good to see you. Is that Edward Towers?

He turns to go.

BATEMAN 
Carnes? Wait.

CARNES 
(Sighing) 
Davis. I'm not one to bad-mouth anyone, your joke was amusing. 
But come on, man, you had one fatal flaw: Bateman's such a dork, 
such a boring, spineless lightweight, that I couldn't fully 
appreciate it. I wasn't fooled for a second. Now, if you'd said 
Price, or McDermott...Otherwise, it was amusing. Now, let's 
have lunch or dinner or something. Hilarious, Davis. A killer.

BATEMAN 
What are you talking about? Bateman is what?

CARNES 
Oh Christ. He can barely pick up an escort girl, let 
alone...what was it you said he did to her?

Carnes looks around the club, raises his glass to a passing 
couple. He laughs politely.

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

BATEMAN 
(Desperate, shouting) 
Wait. Stop. You don't seem to understand. You're not really 
comprehending any of this. I killed him. I did it, Carnes. 
I'm Patrick Bateman. I chopped Owen's fucking head off. 
I tortured dozens of girls. The whole message I left on your 
machine was true.

CARNES 
Excuse me. I really must he going.

BATEMAN 
No! Listen, don't you know who I am? I'm not Davis, I'm 
Patrick Bateman! I talk to you on the phone all the time! 
Don't you recognize me? You're my lawyer.

Carnes stares at him in confusion and annoyance.

BATEMAN 
Now, Carnes, listen to me. Listen very, very carefully. I killed 
Paul Owen and I liked it. I can't make myself any clearer

CARNES 
But that's simply not possible. And I don't find 
this funny anymore.

BATEMAN 
It never was supposed to he! Why isn't it possible?

CARNES 
(Eyeing Bateman worriedly)
It's just not.

BATEMAN 
Why not, you stupid bastard?

Carnes stares at him.

CARNES 
Because I had dinner with Paul Owen twice in 
London...just ten days ago.

BATEMAN 
No, you...didn't?

CARNES 
Now, if you'll excuse me.

Bateman returns back to his friends' table, in a daze.
They are all looking at the television, where Ronald 
Reagan is giving a speech about Iran Contra. They are 
halfheartedly arguing about whether or not he's 
lying.

PRICE 
How can he lie like that? How can he pull that shit?

VAN PATTEN 
What shit? Now where do we have reservations at? 
I mean I'm not really hungry, but I would like to have 
reservations somewhere.

PRICE 
(To Bateman) 
I don't believe it. He looks so...normal. He seems so...
out of it. So...undangerous.

McDERMOTT 
He is totally harmless you geek. Was totally harmless.
Just like you are totally harmless. But he did do all that 
shit and you have failed lo get us into I 50, so, you know, 
what can I say?

PRICE 
I just don't see how someone, anyone, can appear that 
way and yet be involved in such total shit. How can you be so 
fucking, I don't know, cool about it?

VAN PATTEN 
Some guys are just born cool, I guess.

Bateman laughs at this. Price shoots him a look.

PRICE 
And Bateman, what are YOU SO fucking zany about?

BATEMAN 
I'm just a happy camper. Rockin' and a-rollin'.
VAN PATTEN 
(To Price) Rehab's done wonders for you, pal. 
Working for UNICEF now?

McDERMOTT 
Do you want another Perrier Timothy? Some seltzer water?

PRICE 
Oh brother look-he presents himself as a harmless 
Old codger. But inside...

Pause.

PRICE 
But inside...

The SOUNDS OF THE BAR FADE AWAY and we hear Bateman's thoughts:

BATEMAN (V.O.) 
But inside doesn't matter...

THE SOUNDS OF THE BAR RETURN.

McDERMOTT 
(Bored)
Inside? Yes, inside? Believe it or not, Price we're actually 
listening to you.

PRICE 
Bateman? Come on, what do you think? 

Bateman looks up and smiles at Price. Then shrugs.

BATEMAN 
Whatever.

The conversation breaks up as Van Patten takes out his phone. 

VAN PATTEN 
Whose moronic idea was it to drink dry beers? I need a Scotch.

The sounds of the bar fade down. The following voiceover runs 
over images of Bateman and his friends ordering drinks, talking 
on portable phones, talking, laughing - combined with images of 
other very similar young men at other tables drinking, talking 
on portable phones, talking, laughing,

BATEMAN (V.O.)
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...

INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - DAY

Jean is alone in Bateman's office, looking through his diary. 
We see the pages that she is looking at. They are filled with 
doodles of mutilated women and their names...Jean looks lost 
and frightened, and begins to cry.

BATEMAN (V.O.)
My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better 
world for anyone. I fact I want my pain to be inflicted on 
others. I want no escape.

INT. HARRY'S BAR - EARLY EVENING 
As the film ends the camera moves CLOSE on Bateman. He is 
leaning back in his leather armchair, drinking a double Scotch, 
his eyes blank.

BATEMAN (V.O.)
But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis. I gain no 
deeper knowledge about myself, no new knowledge can be extracted 
from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any 
of this. This confession has meant nothing...

The camera moves up to a sign on the wall behind him: 
"THIS IS NOT AN EXIT."

CREDITS ROLL

Back to IMSDb