If American Psycho isn't supposed to be a comedy, then I've got a seriously messed up sense of humor.

I'm not entirely sure that I understood American Psycho. When it was all said and done, I was kind of left with a Fight Club style, "But if Edward Norton was also Brad Pitt, how could he hear himself having sex in the next room?" haze of uncertainty.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning. This is the first movie that I've seen in the past four months that hasn't had a Disney's Dinosaur preview on it, but I just wanted to mention that it looks like it's going to suck anyway.

American Psycho is the story of a suburbanite who's loathsome discontent for his unsatisfying job and loveless marriage is whipped into a full-on mid-life crisis by his lust for one of his daughters weird looking friends… wait wait, sorry. That was American Beauty.

American Psycho is actually the story of Patrick Bateman, an '80s Wall Street yuppie who is stunningly attractive, incomprehensibly shallow, and completely over-the-edge insane. I couldn't get over how he looked like Bruce Campbell's little brother, but had the exact same voice as Dennis Miller. Seriously, close your eyes for a few minutes at any given point of the film and see if you don't expect his voice to suddenly take off into a rant about Reganomics.

While going through his daily 132 step beautifying routine, Bateman gives us a chilling voice over explaining that he may look like a man, but is no longer a man. Kind of like Dr. Loomis's "He's not a man, he's pure evil" spiel from Halloween 1-6, but more eloquent.

"And then I use a soap made of all natural materials that was not tested on animals. Everybody loves bunnies. Even psychos. I'm a psycho. I'm not a man. I may look like a man, and have beefy, rippling pectorals like a man, but I am not a man. I use one of those puffy pink shower things to exfoliate, because I love my face, because I am a hottie. A hottie yes, but not a man. I may act like a man, and I may do things like a man, and I may have one of those pink puffy shower things, but I am not a man, and I am not a woman. I use Kiwi brand white shoe polish to buff my eyeballs twice a day. A man needs to have eyeballs that are their whitest, even when they are not a man."

After finishing his morning regiment, Bateman leaves his upscale monochromatic apartment just in time to get to school. After he and his friends make a series of disastrously uncool advances on various women at a party, they make a pact that they will all lose their virginity before graduation. And then some guy has sex with a pie. No wait... sorry, my bad. That was American Pie.

The guy in American Psycho has no problem in the virginity department. Having muscles developed in places where other people don't even have places, and a big fat bankroll to boot, Bateman has no trouble getting a girl or two into the sack every night... and then kills them.

Not only does he kill them, but he also forces them to endure his lengthy commentary on his favorite songs of the '80s. It's like he comes from the place where High Fidelity and Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer meet. But they did play a cut from "Walking on Sunshine" and as always, that scores points in my book.

Being the scouring newshound that I am, in preparation for writing this review I read a lot of other press on the movie... or I saw something on the news... or I talked to some guy outside the Shell, or something. Okay, I don't know where I got it from, but somehow I got the idea in my head that this movie was going to be controversially gory.

It wasn't. Not at all.

They say that the best horror movies leave the gore to the imagination. In Psycho the audience never actually sees the knife enter the Janet Leigh's body, they only see the knife and the blood.

American Psycho takes this to such an extreme that my imagination isn't good enough to fill in the blanks.

First we see the psycho with a wire coat hanger in his hands and a devilishly evil expression on his face, then we cut to two bloody and tortured prostitutes fleeing the scene. What da? As Johnny 5 once said, "Need more iiiinput!"

I offer this piece of advice to everyone going into the movie that will make it more fun, or at least ruin the experience for you. The whole time you're watching, pretend that American Psycho is the prequel to Wayne's World, and that the psycho is Rob Lowe's character, Benjamin. Imagine that after maiming, mutilating, and killing all of these people in the '80s, that he goes on to try to steal Wayne and Garth's show out from under them in the '90s. It adds a whole new dimension of comedy, and really nothing you can do can make the movie make less sense.

All in all, not a bad directorial job for George Lucas, but the scenes at Mel's Diner really made me nostalgic for... oh for cryin' out loud, that's American Graffiti. Have I no shame?

It must have been the author's intention to leave a lot of loose ends. Right?

Like it was part of the confusing aesthetic of a world gone blind to not explain why all the bodies were gone from the apartment and the realtor simply asked him sternly to leave, right?

And how the secretary was looking at the whacked-out study hall doodle notebook and crying and then nothing.

And how the lawyer said that he had dinner with Paul Allen in London, huh?

And how after he has sex with the drugged up girl, and she talks about not seeing him until after Easter how that fits in somehow.

And how the cop says that Bateman was with the other guys on the night Paul Allen was murdered.

Oh well, who cares. At least he didn't kill the kitten.

Just remember, Benjamin is nobody's friend. If Benjamin were an ice cream flavor, he'd be pralines and dick.