“Think of Bateman as a Martian”: how Christian Bale created the different levels of ‘American Psycho’
Christian Bale once described crafting the eponymous American Psycho as an “acting teacher’s nightmare”. Rather than disguising or hiding the performance as an actor is “supposed” to do, the character of Patrick Bateman relies on the audience’s awareness of his constant performative nature. Bale explained, “Many of the scenes I played as if they were Bateman’s fantasies of being the lead in his own movie.”
In a past interview with Filmmaker Magazine before the movie’s release, director Mary Harron spoke about her collaborative approach to bringing the iconic serial killer to life. This approach took root as Harron and co-writer Guinevere Turner began adapting the novel, realising that the story was not “psychologically realistic”. During script development, it became apparent that Bateman’s potential traumas or formative experiences weren’t important. Bateman is iconographic—a portrait of the quiet violence behind the late 1980s yuppie lifestyle, a representative of the kind of capitalist who plays nice and fair but really just craves the power and control that the lifestyle grants him.
“He killed 40 people,” Harron said. “It is not about whether his parents were mean to him or what traumas he had. In that way, he is a symptom; he’s emblematic.”
As a result of this decision, Patrick Bateman emerged as somebody who lacked “an inside”—a character that might have proved difficult for Bale to play without guidance. Thankfully, he found that guidance in Harron’s direction: “Christian and I often talked about how not to think about the character in terms of psychology but rather as a collection of impulses and modes.”
Harron went on to detail some of these modes, the first of which she described as “status anxiety”. This is Patrick at his most vulnerable, prominently seen in the now-famous scene where Bateman and his co-workers compare business cards. As Bateman’s unhinged monologue dissects every detail of Paul Allen’s card — the “subtle off-white colouring, the tasteful thickness of it” — his sweat-soaked face looms large in the frame. Bale could reportedly produce this sweat on cue for each take, perfectly capturing the anxieties of a man whose entire sense of self-worth hinges on the most minute details of his perceived success.
Like Bale, Harron also mentions how Bateman is “acting out roles for himself”. She explains, “When he picks up Christie, the prostitute, and the escort girl comes over—he is dressed like James Bond doing his smooth romantic-seducer thing. And everything, of course, goes wrong because women never do the right thing. In fact, he even plays as if Christie were his girlfriend, saying things in front of the escort, like, ‘Christie, our guests have arrived.'”
Harron gave Bale one telling piece of advice that would go on to define the character from the film’s opening scene: “I would tell Christian early on to think of Bateman as a Martian who is trying to be a human being but keeps getting it wrong and ends up killing people.”
This approach was crucial in Bale’s embodiment of Bateman’s detachment, alienation, and sociopathy—an entity that’s ostensibly human but basing its behaviour on things it sees yet doesn’t understand. Harron and Bale’s collaboration in creating such an unusual character has led to the iconic status of this satire, which has withstood the test of time. Despite its frequent brutality, the film remains fascinating and, at times, entertaining to watch.
