Bret Easton Ellis’s shock 1980s satire American Psycho, about murderous Wall Street banker Patrick Bateman, famously features a lot of grisly deaths, but the story itself is one that refuses to die.
Since the publication of the novel, there’s been one great film adaptation, starring Christian Bale, and another, from Call Me By Your Name director Luca Guadagnino, is in the works.
Meanwhile, a stage musical which first premiered at London’s Almeida Theatre starring Dr Who’s Matt Smith has been revived at the same venue, 13 years on, by its original director Rupert Goold.
One thing’s for sure: when it comes to screen-to-stage adaptations, it makes for a change from all those teen movie musicals flooding the market.
And the story, in which the horrifically narcissistic and misogynistic Bateman goes on a killing spree that he can seemingly get away with thanks to his wealth and good looks – or does he? – remains a ferocious comment on the impunity of elites.
But the problem is musical theatre is fundamentally about emotional expression, with characters pouring their hearts out via song.
So having a homicidal psychopath as your musical’s lead is inevitably going to leave a bit of a hole at its centre. The result, for me, was that I came away from this show feeling pretty numb, and not in a good way.
What can’t be faulted is the production, which is as slick as they come, from the opening scene in which Bateman – now played by rising star Arty Froushan – rises out of the floor in a shower cubicle, describing his morning routine in obsessive detail.
Designer Es Devlin’s stylishly minimalist staging combines with rave-y lighting and video design to give the whole thing the feel of a twisted fashion show. The costumes are suitably sharp, and there is some excellent, poppy choreography.
But the original songs themselves are another story – or, let’s not beat around the bush, completely forgettable. Deploying synths and drum machines, their tinny electro sound is matched by their determined shallowness, which may be true to the spirit of the piece but becomes wearying.
How invested can you really be in songs centred around reciting fashion labels, or paying tribute to the power of a stylish business card? The real trouble is the decision to mix these ditties with renditions of genuine 80s pop hits like Everybody Wants to Rule The World and In the Air Tonight: highlights as these sequences are, they make plain the lack of decent melodies elsewhere.
As for the story, there’s entertainment to be had in the takedown of New York’s social scene and its vapidly self-obsessed denizens.
But, as staged here, the killings themselves don’t possess the truly visceral horror that they did in Easton Ellis’ unforgettably upsetting prose, while as Bateman, Froushan can’t match the demonic force that Bale had on screen: he’s a little too obviously, vulnerably neurotic from the get-go, and the script makes very clear here that his murderousness may well just all be in his head.
To give the piece some heart, the script also belatedly tries to make a heroine of Bateman’s lovelorn secretary Jean by giving her a climactic, sentimental ballad A Girl Before – but by this stage, and despite Anastasia Martin’s sympathetic performance, the attempt to inject some sincerity into proceedings feels a little laughable.
For a thought-provoking night out, you could do a lot worse – but the show fundamentally fails to make a convincing case that Easton Ellis’ outlandish source material really needed the song-and-dance treatment.
Verdict: This grisly show based on Bret Easton Ellis’ horrific tale of a homicidal Wall Street Banker certainly stands out from the musical crowd – but unfortunately, it can’t match up to either the original novel or the film.
American Psycho runs until March 21 at Almeida Theatre, London.
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