A Killer Yuppie
In the slaughter-riffic American Psycho (2000), a high-powered corporate shirt-tucker plays material oneupmanship with his snobby peers and it becomes a game of “look at what I have.”
Soon, this vapid lifestyle begins to warp this poor excuse for a human and he erupts in mindless yet ferociously angry violence to help him make sense of his senseless world. (Can’t tell you how many times I’ve done that myself.)
He analyzes music from Huey Lewis & The News, Phil Collins and Whitney Houston while chopping up his buddy with an ax who has better business cards than him. He hires hookers to have cash-only sex, then chases them down the hall with a state-of-the-art chainsaw. Black comedy at its finest, this is one funny movie and a crushing commentary on male vanity. (Is there really such a thing?)
Copious drug use, unsafe intercourse, rented limos, reserved tables at trendy dinner establishments, nail guns. You never get to see the actual dissections. (Then again, you didn’t see any in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre/1974, either.) But Christian Bale as Patrick Bateman is the best non-mask wearing serial-killing psycho to wield cutlery since Norman Bates.