American Psycho Page #3

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.

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