Disclaimer: this article contains an analysis of the themes presented by Bret Easton Ellis in American Psycho and not the personal opinions of anyone associated with The Game of Nerds.

On April 14, 2025, American Psycho, the movie, celebrated its 25th anniversary. And, although the movie achieved great success and produced plenty of memes that still haunt the internet, it started off as a book nine years earlier.

The movie did a phenomenal job recreating the book, so instead of analyzing their differences (like I did in Nightbitch, the Unspoken Tale of Motherhood: Book vs. Movie), I want to use them both as tools to provide insight into the biggest debate the plot of American Psycho has sparked: is Patrick Bateman actually a killer?

People have argued that many of the things that occur over the course of the story aren’t true, that they are happening in Bateman’s head, a figment of his violent imagination and the hallucinations he is seemingly prone to. The ending is left ambiguous for a reason, giving its readers and watchers space for this discussion. I believe that the book and the movie work side-by-side to prove that, although Bateman is undeniably an unreliable narrator, there is still truth to the story he tells us and it is within these truths that we can see the societal critique Ellis is trying to make through his novel.

American Psycho is a satire at a glance and a horror story at its core.

“‘But that’s simply not possible,’ he says, brushing me off. ‘And I’m not finding this amusing anymore.’

‘It was never supposed to be!” I bellow, and then , ‘Why isn’t it possible?’

‘It’s just not.’” (Ellis, American Psycho)

Isn’t it funny how as the story progresses, the plot gets objectively less funny, how the elements of satire slowly begin to fall away, piece by piece, until only the horror is left? Think of the playfulness of Paul Allen’s (or Paul Owen in the book, but I will continue to refer to him as Paul Allen from here on out) murder in contrast with the ones that come after, with how distressed and hysterical Bateman is towards the end when he used to take so much joy in killing. American Psycho is a story that starts off amusing in its ridiculousness, but turns into something much darker as it reveals its true intentions to its reader and watcher, just as Bateman does.

But what are Bateman’s intentions? What is the truth to the story and the point of American Psycho? Let’s get into it.

Upper class invisibility

One of the biggest arguments against Bateman actually being a killer is the fact that nobody in his life responds appropriately when he gives voice to his violent thoughts. At first, I truly wondered if that was what they were, just his thoughts, or if he was actually speaking them out loud. But, it isn’t that no one reacts when he says awful things (though Evelyn and Courtney may be exceptions). People do acknowledge him. It’s just that his peers cannot fathom what Bateman’s words truly mean and instead of being horrified, it simply comes off as a joke to them.

“‘Keep touching me like this,’ I say, eyes shut tight, entire body wired and ticking, coiled up ready, wanting to spring, ‘and you’ll draw back a stump.’

‘Whoa, hold on there, little buddy,’ McDermott says, backing off in mock fear. The two of them giggle like idiots and give each other high-five, completely unaware that I’d cut his hand off, and much more, with pleasure.” (Ellis, American Psycho)

So, it’s not that these statements are just thoughts in his head, it’s that his fellow, upper class peers do not recognize his true intentions, or they fail to see them at all. This becomes interesting when we compare it with his interactions with people of a lower class than him, when he lets his perfect mask slip and they get a glimpse of what lies beneath.

“I break into a smile and lean right into her face. ‘If-you-don’t-shut-your-fucking-mouth-I-will-kill-you-are-you-understanding-me?’

The Chinese woman’s panicked jabbering speeds up incoherently, her eyes wide.” (Ellis, American Psycho)

The dry cleaner is noticeably upset, not only by the blood on Bateman’s sheets, jacket, shirts and a tie, but also his threat. We see another odd reaction when Bateman returns to Paul Allen’s apartment after Christie and Elizabeth’s murder and interacts with the real estate agent there.

“Her eyes narrow, but don’t close. She’s noticed the surgical mask I’m gripping in a damp fist and she breathes in, sharply, refusing to look away.” (Ellis, American Psycho)

She must know. About the mess he left, why he must have come back. What kind of man he truly is. But she has an ulterior motive and instead of causing a scene, she only asks him to leave and not cause trouble for her. Both the dry cleaner and the real estate agent have reactions that are very different from McDermott’s, which begs the question: what is different about them that allows them to see the threat Bateman poses and take it seriously?

They aren’t rich privileged people, blinded by their entitlement and freedom from the struggles of life, so they can see the truth of what Bateman is.

While this idea is more ambiguous in the book (Are the cleaners really reacting to the blood, can they even understand Bateman’s threat of violence against them or are they distressed by an angry, rich man yelling at them about a stain they couldn’t get out? Did the real estate agent really have something to do with the disappearance of the bodies or did Bateman hallucinate the whole thing and she is simply trying to stop a weird man from interfering with her sales?), the movie provides one more example that is impossible to dispute: Jean and her discovery of Bateman’s planner.

When Jean finds Bateman’s planner, littered with drawings of dismembered women, there is only one conclusion she can come to. In this moment, she is the only one in the entire story who sees Bateman as he truly is. It is undeniable, and it is through her eyes that we know that what we have been seeing is true. Although he is invisible within the sea of the elite, people outside the upper class can see him.

Bateman is a killer and it is through their eyes that this is validated for the reader. The dry cleaner. The real estate agent. And, finally, Jean.

Bateman has utter control over the narrative, until he doesn’t

Bateman is undeniably an unreliable narrator. We cannot take any of the information he presents us at face value, as he is curtailing everything we see to fit the narrative he wants, just as he molds the image of “Patrick Bateman” into what everyone expects him, an upper class businessman, to be.

This forces us to ask, what is real and what isn’t? Can anything we see throughout the book and movie be taken at face value?

But Bateman isn’t perfect and there are occasional cracks in the facade he has created that allow us to see the truth. One crack is bigger than most: the cop chase scene.

The movie takes a more comical approach to the scene. The progression of events is ridiculous, though the movie is aware of this and leans into it. Bateman is seemingly just as shocked as the audience is when he manages to blow up a police car with a single bullet. This isn’t supposed to be realistic. And after he sees an atm asking him to feed it a cat, it is hard not to argue that this entire scene isn’t a hallucination. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t real, even if it is unbelievable that he would get away with it after everything he does

Because Bateman shows us what he wants us to see, until he loses control. And Bateman isn’t just losing control over his mind, he’s losing control over the narrative.

This is much more evident in the book, where the words on the page are just another tool for Bateman to manipulate. As a book written in the first person, we are seeing the entire story through Bateman’s lens, hallucinations and all. It can be hard to tell what is real and not real, or if the truth we are seeing is authentic or skewed towards the results Bateman wants. Until Ellis makes the choice to switch to third person. In the middle of the police chase, Bateman loses control and suddenly we are no longer seeing the situation through the words he is feeding us. We are watching from an outside perspective, where his thoughts and intentions can no longer control what we see. This scene, as ridiculous and comical as it appears, is untainted by Bateman’s unreliable perspective and could be considered the only undeniably true piece of the story.

It is only until Bateman makes the choice to confess to his lawyer, Harold Carnes, that it switches back to first person, the exact moment when he is able to take back some semblance of control.

Although this is the only time the novel switches to third person, a complete and utter loss of control, we can see Bateman’s control slipping throughout the length of the entire novel. At the beginning, there are no outright confessions that he has killed someone, no chapters depicting the details of the graphic violence he inflicts on his victims. It starts off with a violent thought here and there, hints that there is violence happening off page we don’t have the privilege of witnessing (the bloody clothes taken to the dry cleaners, all the extra bodies we see in Paul Allen’s apartment during Christie and Elizabeth’s murder). But then there is chapter upon chapter of death and violence, chapters abruptly starting in the middle of a psychotic episode where we know and understand nothing. The chapters where he is losing control and we see the things that he once kept hidden.

As his mind slips, so does his control, and it is then that we get to see the truth.

The confession

Through Bateman’s final words in the movie (though they are not so final in the book), we can begin to understand Ellis’s intentions.

“There is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself, no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant nothing…” (Ellis, American Psycho)

In the movie, this internal dialogue occurs right after Bateman’s conversation with his lawyer. It is easy to come to the conclusion that this “confession” is his literal confession, the one he left on his lawyer’s phone or even his attempt to get Carnes to believe that he, Patrick Bateman, is a violent, bloodthirsty killer. But, although the movie takes this quote right from the pages of the book, Bateman does not share these words with the reader at the same point. Instead of brewing in the frustration of not being believed after confessing his crimes, these thoughts occur before his conversation with Carnes at World’s End, when Jean is confessing her love to him at a cafe over an iced decaf au lait and a decapitated coffee, “I mean…decaffeinated” coffee.

So, what is his confession, then? Perhaps it’s the whole book.

American Psycho could be seen as a confession in and of itself. This story is one big, long confession to the reader, a confession of Bateman proving that he is a killer, that a handsome, successful, upper class man can harbor incredible violence beneath the perfect mask he has created. And it has all meant nothing because no one of any worth will believe that someone like Bateman can be a killer. Jean herself (in the book, because we know what she finds in the movie that makes her believe otherwise) cannot fathom that Bateman can be anything but the sweet and considerate person she believes him to be.

“‘Sometimes, Jean,’ I explain, ‘the lines separating appearance–what you see–and reality–what you don’t–become, well blurred.’

‘That’s not true,’ she insists. ‘That’s simply not true.’” (Ellis, American Psycho)

Jean’s words here are very reminiscent of Carnes’s words to Bateman after his confession, the words I shared at the beginning of this article. When asking why it isn’t possible that Bateman could be a killer, he simply says “it’s just not.” Neither Carnes or Jean can give Bateman a real answer as to why he can’t be both things: a perfect, rich businessman and a killer. Because there is no reason, and that’s the point.

This whole time, Bateman has been testing the limits of what he can get away with. From openly speaking about the violence he wants to commit, to leaving a plethora of bodies to be discovered in Paul Allen’s apartment, and even confessing every single one of his crimes to his lawyer. There is no reason he shouldn’t have been caught or at least suspected of a crime. But he isn’t. Because no one can see anything but the charming young man, or the “brown-nosing goody goody” as Carnes puts it.

As I said earlier, Bateman is invisible in the sea of the elite. It is the perfect alibi and it allows him to get away with everything. People are dead and he remains unpunished. In the end, nothing has changed. His confession truly meant nothing.

My final thoughts

American Psycho, although funny in its own horrific way, is much more than just a satire. Or even a horror story. Ellis weaves an intricate moral question into the words of his novel that forces us to think about the differences between the upper class and the rest of the world, and the idea that their privilege protects them from facing the consequences of their actions.

It was very interesting reading this today, at a time when Trump, the man Bateman idolizes throughout the book and movie, is a convicted felon who was found guilty and sentenced to a penalty-free, unconditional discharge that did not affect his ability to rise to power and become president.

This is just one instance where someone in a privileged position did something objectively wrong and faced very little consequence for it. And this begs the questions that Ellis is asking: what laws are there to keep the rich in check? To what extent can they hide behind their privilege? How much can they get away with before there are consequences? Questions that American Psycho asks its readers and watchers to consider under the guise of a bloody satire about a perfect, American businessman.