Everything, objects and people alike, dissolves in repetition, and his work makes little mark. Violence is the sole exception, indelible and irreversible. The film deviates here, with the murders far less certain. The ambiguity might seem a total repudiation of Bateman's impact, yet the novel's characters neglecting the deaths constitutes a deeper oblivion.

I have to read this again at some point. I only remember the rat scene.