Cav Gil’s review published on Letterboxd:
A film all about trying to stand out and then discovering that no one even knows who you are. A fm which debates whether individuality is a myth and that men especially are proven to merge into the same ocean of pretty white yuppie faces.
Bale is just amazing, his calm air and arrogance which wrapped up in moments of genuine humanity and sympathetic rage. Watching Bateman, a guy who basically has no identity that is distinguishable from his co-workers, completely loose it over moments that make him part of the crowd in very minor ways (the business cards or Willem Dafoe liking the same Heuy Lewis and the News album). Bale perfectly captures a man who hates the fact that he succeeds in the end; he got away with murder and not a single person cares because they don't even know his name.
His method devolves into madness as he begins to kill indiscriminently by the end by just gunning people down, there are little moments in Bale's face where you can tell Bateman is having fun just killing random people. The moments where he manages to plan out his killings seems to bring him an almost orgasmic level of satisfaction, even down to smoking after Paul Allen's death like he had just finished a particularly enjoyable session of intercourse.
This movie is so full of facinating symbolism regarding conformity and individuality, to the point where it feels almost Orwellian. Paul and Patrick's rooms look almost indentical with only the colour setting them appart, every guy where's an identical suit and the business cards with only typeface barely distinguishing them all provide stark examples.
If this is Mary Harron will be remembered for, what a legacy to leave behind