The most obvious quality that makes Patrick Bateman unusual amongst villains is that he's both the protagonist and the narrator of his own story-- AMERICAN PSYCHO by Bret Easton Ellis. (This article will concentrate on the novel, because Mary Harron's movie adaptation falls extremely close to the original text, but there is a lot of information missing.)
Bateman's story is a complete negation of Joseph Campbell's "Hero's Journey"--this 'hero' does not go anywhere, he does not overcome any obstacles, he does not learn anything. The book ascribes him a motto, found signposted on the places he frequents: THIS IS NOT AN EXIT. There's no way out for Bateman, and likewise, there is no way to escape him.
Bateman, from a distance, is a chiseled uber-yuppie who kills people for fun and pleasure. He's rich, educated, he has a job which affords him power and prestige without requiring him to do a speck of work. But as you zoom closer, a lot more... or, depending on how you think of it, at it, less... becomes apparent. Smash cut to appalling carnage or hideous banality.
Bateman is principally defined by a lack of identity: he is a shell of brand names, advertisinng slogans and business-management cliches built around a fleeting and unstable sense of self; a spoiled, blood-soaked avatar of American consumer culture. Although the book is written in the first person, it's six pages before we first hear an "I". The sudden revelation of the narrator's presence in the scene is startling and confusing. He has been standing there in broad daylight, whispering his version of events in our ear all along.
Bateman has no conscience, no capacity for reflection; just a void that he tries to fill with bloodshed, pornography and recycled opinions. He himself tells us that "There's nothing there"; on the few the only occasions on which he describes his internal state he feels "intangible", "like a ghost."
Bateman suffers from psychotic episodes and hallucinations. His ability to distinguish between fantasy and reality shaky at best: he discusses Ed Gein and Leatherface without even attempting to distinguish of them is real and which fictive. He admits that he is used to thinking of reality as if it was a movie, and his description of events often invokes the language of cinematic editing.
Bateman describes his own deeds in the same cool and graphic tone that he discusses movies, pornography or even pop music, and, in fact, accords them equal importance. On the one single occasion where Bateman finds himself in danger, that present-tense narration narration slips into third person as he loses his id altogether--geography and time seem to bend and loop as his faculties depart. But Patrick is nothing if not resilient: after every episode he manages to claw his way back to the nominal level of sanity required for him to participate in normal society. The revelation of just how little is required is perhaps the book's most disturbing facet.
Bateman's crimes are usually wrought upon victims below his social class, with the exception of Paul Allen-- a business rival he believes to be a threat to him (a laughable thought, given the amount of attention Bateman puts into his actual job). He does occasionally spare those who regard him with affection--out of confusion more than anything.
There is only one person in the book that Bateman likes and admires: Tim Price, who Patrick describes as "The only interesting person I know." Tim, initially, is little different than Bateman and the rest of his shallow, yuppie friends: if anything he is even more arrogant and obnoxious than they are, but basically he is quite interchangeable with any of them. Bateman himself has difficulty telling some of his friends and colleagues apart, and is frequently misidentified for 'Marcus Halberstam'. But there is something different about Price: he disappears from the book for a lengthy period, and he returns from his sojourn (rumoured to be rehab) a changed man, daubed with the ashes of penitence (although Bateman may be the only one who can see this).
Price has become more aware of what is going on in the world and he's disturbed by it: he demonstrates a new awareness that people are not always what they seem and a sense of outrage at the lies and evil perpetrated by his (explicitly American) society. Price has returned to the fold, but he has grown as a person and it seems unlikely that he will stay. Bateman admires this, although he does not properly comprehend it. In the end, Bateman remains unable to see the door beneath the sign:
THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.
