I write. Therefore, I am.
I don’t pay attention to the naysayers. I pay attention to my craft. A writer should be his own harshest critic.
I know American Psycho is a play now on Broadway, which I haven’t seen, but I did recently watch the movie of the same name for the second time where Patrick Bateman carves a path of blood on Wall Street.
Parts of the movie, directed by Mary Harron, are hilarious black humor, while other parts are ghoulish and worthy of Grand Guignol.
The scene where the Wall Street masters of the universe trot out their business cards and flourish them over lunch is funny. Bateman becomes irate when he sees that one of his buddies has a better card than his because it has a watermark on it. Bateman is a guy who can’t stand being upstaged when it comes to showing off his wealth and concomitant superiority.
On the other hand, the scene where he’s chasing the hooker around his digs with a chainsaw while he’s naked is grisly. The way the scene ends with the chainsaw somersaulting through the stairwell like a swimmer high-diving through the sky out of Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will and finding its mark is outrageous and brutal.
The movie succeeds as a horror movie more than as a comedy, since Bateman shows no signs of reforming at the end. The homicidal misogynist who uses women alternately as sex toys and murder victims will continue his reign of terror.
I’m kind of surprised the author Bret Easton Ellis hasn’t written a sequel to his novel.
Bryan Cassiday will be signing books at the Los Angeles Times Book Fair at USC at the Horror Writers Association booth on April 19, 2015, on Sunday at noon.
I think this is my first Australian interview. You’ve heard of the usual suspects. Well, this is the usual questions. Take a look.