I Have To Return Some Videotapes

I can honestly say I have never read American Psycho and thought: “Ooh, that murder would be an excellent moment for Patrick Bateman to do a song-and-dance routine”.

 I was therefore a bit apprehensive about how Bret Easton Ellis’s cult novel could be turned into “a new musical thriller”.  Fortunately I had other things to occupy my mind before the show began – such as passing by a pub called The Famous Cock on our way to the Almeida Theatre.  Yes, we had to stop for a photo.  We are easily amused.

We arrived at the theatre with plenty of time for wine, and some chatting with the front of house staff about where to find Matt Smith post-play.  The lobby was buzzing with young men who appeared to have taken the American Psycho theme to heart, sporting suits and haircuts to impress Patrick Bateman himself.  Hopefully the trail of innocent victims they left on their way had been well disposed of before they arrived.

Wine downed, we took to our seats and I was quickly joined by an eager Matt Smith fangirl who was there to see the play for the third time.  “You won’t be disappointed!” she assured me happily, before we started comparing notes on what actors we had successfully bothered in our time. 

We noticed the theatre seemed to be partly occupied by uniformed schoolchildren, which seemed like a much better school outing than the time my English class got taken to a matinee showing of Pride and Prejudice – the Musical.  Then when two schoolboys started openly fondling each other...well, that also seemed like a much better school outing than I was used to.

The musical began with a jump, as trench coat-decked cast members starting singing at us and Matt Smith appeared wearing only a pair of tight white underpants.  The fangirl was right – I wasn’t disappointed.  We got straight into Patrick Bateman’s metrosexual inner dialogue, as he detailed his morning beauty regime to the audience while getting dressed. 

We were then introduced to Bateman’s social circle.  The scene in which he and his yuppie pals try to one-up each other with their business cards was brilliantly turned into a musical number – possibly the only musical number you’ll ever see that discusses fonts and paper stock to a dance routine.  Bateman’s girlfriend Evelyn and mistress Courtney were introduced to us by way of a ridiculously catchy eighties pop number called You Are What You Wear, in which every possible designer is present and correct: “I will not touch a drop of red wine, don't wanna ruin the Calvin Klein / Chanel, Gaultier, or Giorgio Armani / Moschino, Alaïa or Norma Kamali / Should I rock the Betsey Johnson, or stick with classic Comme des Garçons?”.

But of course, it’s pretty easy to transfer a tale of well dressed New Yorkers from page to stage – the real question is, how do you make a musical out of a serial killer?

As Bateman’s killing spree is seen to be a reaction to the blank, consumerist lifestyle around him, the production mixes his violence with scenes of rich twentysomethings enjoying their Christmas parties and hip restaurants.  Bateman’s first killing of a homeless man gives way to a scene of neon-clad business men following their hardbody aerobics instructor in the gym and later on, Bateman and Evelyn’s idyllic trip to the Hamptons is immediately followed by a genuinely horrible scene where Bateman is chatting to two blood-splattered prostitutes he has recently toyed with, their bodies still twitching.

Not everything in the musical is entirely successful – the actress playing Bateman’s secretary Jean seemed to struggle with her American accent to the extent I wondered if she had actually given up trying at one point.  And though she was a terrific singer, she was given some of the show’s most uninspired songs to sing in which she insipidly fantasised about settling down with Bateman.  Jean doesn’t do much more than that in the novel, but putting it to music doesn’t make things more interesting.  Admittedly, Jean’s misguided love for her boss does lead to one of the more delicate scenes in the play, in which Bateman spares her from becoming another victim.

The play also changes the scene where Bateman phones his attorney to confess, so that he now phones Detective Kimball – which is fine, but it’s highly unlikely that Kimball and Bateman would ever have a chance encounter in a fashionable nightclub, which is where they meet again in the play and where Kimball laughs off the confession.

And while the play doesn’t descend into the hallucinations and fantastical scenes towards the end of the novel, it does accurately portray Bateman as a highly unreliable narrator, leaving you questioning just how much of what you’ve seen actually happened.

Unsurprisingly, Matt Smith is the star of the show.  His newly buff physique and clean cut image are ideally suited to the image obsessed Patrick Bateman, while he also does a great job of portraying the  dead-behind-the-eyes blankness of the character at the same time.  Though not the best singer you’ll ever hear, he holds a tune nicely and if anything, his limited vocal range actually works very well for the emotionless character he’s playing.  You might never exactly sympathise with Bateman, but he still seems like a much better person to hang out with than his friends, with their conversations about different types of water and what shoes to wear with what suit.

I would also imagine any younger fangirls only familiar with Smith from Doctor Who will have got quite an education from watching him strip down to his underwear and fuck a giant pink teddy bear.  There may have been some debate about whether or not he was wearing a cup for the underwear scenes...I’m choosing to believe he’s just naturally blessed.  Very well blessed indeed.

Play finished, we skipped off to the lobby where we had been told Smith would appear if he was signing autographs.  We waited, and we waited, and the rest of the cast wandered off completely ignored by the assembled masses before the announcement was made that Matt had gone home.  Alas, there would be no Bateman bothering that night. General opinion is that his no-show may have been due to his win at the NTAs that night – I found out he won during the interval when my new fangirl friend showed me his acceptance speech on her phone.  “He’s SO CUTE!!!” she sighed, as he ruffled his hair.

In many ways, it was a fitting end to the evening – as Bateman says himself, “I simply am not there”.