doom generation and american psycho, an interesting article i read.
Gregg Araki's The Doom Generation is undeniably one of the weirder movies you'll ever see. And similarly, Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho is one of the more bizarre books you'll ever read. It's easy to become lost amidst their more graphic sexual and violent attributes and lose any bit of substance, but besides just being generally strange experiences throughout, the two, despite completely different plots actually intercross deeper levels of theme and symbol.
From issues of violence, sex, consumerism, and social class, the visual stories themselves are rich, and at times none-too subtle with their exploration of the American Dream, or really, just America.
Now, naturally "America" can mean many different things, and who's to say what it means specifically? Many stories throughout time take on the topic and the results are usually pretty different from one to the other. From American History X and its ideas of racism and minorities, Upton Sinclair's The Jungle and its exposure of the American meat packing industry, and even Natural Born Killers, a film to which ‘Doom’ is oft compared, and its themes of media's portrayal and handling of violence in our country.
As for ‘Doom’ and ‘Psycho’, the most blatant parallel the stories share is the one in which its main characters are young, tortured, American souls and how they interact amidst the hellish abyss of the world around them.
For what it's worth, The Doom Generation is one giant symbol. The divisive nature of the film tends to come from those who just miss it altogether and take the film for the wildly violent, sexual road movie that it is and either love it or hate it, and those who embrace the sex, violence, characters, and situations as representations for something else altogether. Something much deeper than the modern exploitation film it appears to be. Araki is a smart filmmaker, and far from lazy. Though the film is grainy, cheap, dirty and far from polished, every word, edit, song, character, and location plays a role in Araki's satirical exploration of youth in America.
To best get an idea of its tone and plot, its back cover does it best: “This is the story about this hot chick and her loser boyfriend that begins one night at a nightclub where they listen to techno music. So anyway, they leave the club only to have this bleeding dude jump into the back of their car. The chick curses a lot and they visit many fast food restaurants, rob a convenience store and meet up with people. Anyway, in the end, they all become way more than friends and wind up being chased by a bunch of crazy neo-Nazi jocks who want to kill them when all they want to do is ride off smoothly into the sunset eating Doritos.”
Perhaps the most obvious of all places to start is with the character's names: Amy Blue, Jordan White, and Xavier Red. Clearly - Red, White, and Blue. Here Araki plays with color symbology even further opening the meaning behind the characters. Of course meanings are universal but here it's as simple as the American Flag. And from the standard definition of the colors of our flag come the personalities of the characters, or more so what it is they're meant to embody.
Blue stands for bravery and courage, and hope. In the character of Amy we get a foulmouthed, chain-smoking, sexually promiscuous vixen, but deep down, like her fellow characters, she's just lost. In her world of never-ending convenience stores, fast food, and overblown violence, all she longs for is the hope of finding real love. Something she may have found in Jordan.
White stands for purity and peace. In the character of Jordan we get a naive, lovingly goofy virgin who looks to the world around him with a child's sense of wonder. In situations of violence and sex he exudes a confused and bewildered sense of perception. Those around him, Amy and Xavier however treat the situation with a real sense of panic and reality. Through back-story untold, but certainly hinted at, Amy and X are minds beyond corrupted.
Constantly Amy bumps into people who claim to be lovers of the past, but she always vehemently denies having ever known one of them. And wherever X goes, people die, whether intentional or not, and almost usually without regret or remorse. The only hint at such feelings comes when the trio accidentally hit a dog and are forced to put it out of its misery. At such moment, Araki is taking the time to illustrate for the viewer the desensitization of violence we have in America. In all previous scenes of grisly decapitations, amputations, murder and destruction, the tone was one of a comic nature. Like to the characters themselves, the acts meant nothing. It's just blood, it's just violence, and we see that everyday on TV don't we? It's often recurring amongst films that human death is treated like entertainment and spectacle, while animal death is treated with far more sentimentality. So when forced to end the life of an innocent dog, their humanity comes out. It's here Araki uses a dog to illustrate that there is no difference in hurting a human and hurting an animal. We should not be desensitized to the pain and suffering of either, as both are living, breathing beings.
Now the story's violent nature would be nothing without Red. The character of Xavier is meant to represent valor, bravery, and blood. In him we get a guy vulgarly outspoken, constantly horny, and always on edge. He's capable of anything and everything, especially in cases of dire need, like saving his two friends. He's dangerous though. Because he doesn't know fear, he's never sure when enough is enough. Outside his personality though, there lies a religious undertone. When you think Red, you probably think of the Devil. And in many ways, Amy and Jordan are the Adam and Eve of this story. Though miles away from any common representation of the famous duo, there’s still many similarities. Together they are virgins in a world unexplored. And out of nowhere, Xavier comes into their lives constantly tempting and tipping their curiosities. Without him, like without the Devil, there wouldn’t be much of a story to tell.
The Devil aspect of things seems all the more prominent when you take into consideration the tone of the film. From everywhere they go, Araki would like the viewer to believe that the characters are already in Hell. From where it starts in a fiery nightclub blaring a song claiming god is dead, to the locations they visit displaying large signs of doom (pray for your lost soul, the rapture is coming, shoplifters will be executed), Hell is in full effect. Additionally, every single time either one of the characters spend money, the total comes to $6.66. Sure these elements, as previously stated, are none too subtle. But it’s in their blatant obviousness that Araki plays with the viewer’s perceptions and all the things he has to say.
Besides the ever-present social commentary of 90s youth in America, Doom also takes the time to explore America's handling of sexuality. Araki, himself a gay filmmaker, called this film "A heterosexual movie” in its publicity and opening credits. Now yes the main love story is between man and woman, but the moment X enters the picture, and though no acts of homosexuality transpire, the movie oozes with homoeroticism. Despite this though, Araki isn't trying to cater to one or the other. Rather he's crafting a tale about open sexuality and liberation. Throughout their journey they all have sex. Jordan with himself and Amy. Amy with Jordan and X. And X with Amy and himself, or at least until the climactic threesome.
After a long road journey of homicide, convenience store nachos, cheap motels, gut busting fast food, and an array of characters trying to stop them, the trio finally settle down for a simple ménage a trois, or as X calls it, "a double stuffed ET finger touch". Together they put themselves at ease and peace. Together as one, the Red, White, and Blue. With this, the colors seem to reassign their meaning. Instead of representing an America that IS, Araki is trying to picture an America that COULD BE. In the midst of their passions however, they're suddenly interrupted by a disgusted group of neo-Nazis.
From here, Amy is raped with a Virgin Mary statue (symbolizing America's stance on religion and its role in limiting sexual freedom) on an American flag while the National Anthem blares in the background. Meanwhile X and Jordan are brutally beaten, finally climaxing with Jordan's castration/death with garden shears.
In the form of Nazis, Araki is representing America's general distaste and hatred of people who live alternative lifestyles, and the violence often used if deemed "necessary". It's a disturbing ending to a story so over the top, but vital. Quite literally translated, the innocence is killed. It’s the innocence these characters display in the passion of love and sex that Araki is trying to highlight. To him, sex should be free, open, and without prejudice. It doesn’t hurt or affect anyone, so who is anyone to judge? Of course it’s hard to ignore that in America, despite whatever campaigns or slogans, we’re anything but free. So many are forced to hide in shame of the lifestyles they lead, especially sexually. And it’s in this ending the power behind the film is at its strongest. After Amy slaughters the Nazi’s, herself and X escape, but to a future uncertain and even bleaker than before. They drive down a long road while the sun rises, as Amy remains expressionless and broken. X just eats Doritos. Finally Amy is silent after eighty-five minutes of constant swearing and cursing. Her love is gone, and so is her hope. Their America ahead is the America WE already have. With an unsure sense of hope, innocence dead, and violence long from ceasing. A generation doomed.
Now whereas ‘Doom’ is about characters with nothing searching for anything, American Psycho is about a character with everything who feels nothing. By now, Patrick Bateman, protagonist of ‘Psycho’, is a personality well ingrained in pop society thanks to Christian Bale’s portrayal in Mary Harron’s film adaptation. Most seem to forget though that Bateman was once just a controversial literary character in Bret Easton Ellis’ novel.
As rich the original novel is with burning social commentary, it’s undeniably far less potent, or perhaps less overbearing with its use of symbolism as ‘Doom’ was. In Ellis’ pages of pornographic sexuality, snuff-film-like violence, and epic diatribes on society, the reader is acquainted with a sadistic character truly living the “American Dream”. He’s rich, powerful, and attractive without a worry in the world.
Living daily as a *beep* n’ span, anally well-groomed Manhattan executive, Bateman epitomizes the symbol of the urban yuppie. Everything about him reeks of cliché. From his perfect suits and ties, well-connected social life, and an ability to wrap anyone around his finger, you can’t help but wonder how he could possibly be interesting. And he isn’t really, but that’s Ellis’ point.
In drawing out the life of Bateman bit by bit by bit by bit, Ellis illustrates the vacuous existence he truly leads. Like the gunk in his hair and the clothes on his back, he’s nothing more than a product of society, and he’s not the only one. Daily Bateman interacts with fellow colleagues but it’s really nothing more than a popularity contest. Who has the best business card? Who has the best restaurant reservation? Nothing goes unscathed as Bateman constantly feels pressured to best them all. It’s from the expectations society sets on people that Ellis made a character that buys into it all, and from it all, snaps.
Like ‘Doom’s consistent idea of Hell on earth, a similar method is used throughout ‘Psycho’. On more than one occasion are the phrases “Abandon all hope ye who enter here” and “This is not an exit” displayed on signs throughout the character’s journey. Now it’s open to debate but it doesn’t seem far-fetched to see these as a harbinger not only for the character, but also for the reader. It’s as if to say to Bateman, and to us, to cease these selfish ways. That such ways are not an exit, and to abandon hope if you think so.
What ‘Psycho’ first and foremost symbolizes for Ellis is not the glorification of violence or materialism, but rather the objectification. In his graphic descriptions of sexuality and violence, he isn’t indulging for the sake of indulgence, much like Bateman and his confidantes, but instead is pointing out to the reader the rewards of leading a selfish life. When all you do is work for the better of yourself, then what’s worth living for?
There’s no surprise in Bateman’s life and also a distinct lack of emotion. In his various mutilations of the homeless, prostitutes, animals, and even a child, there’s a bored, calculated approach to his methods and reactions. These aren’t people to him, and aren’t deserving of his sympathies. For him, nothing and no one actually matters. He’s a sociopathic nihilist, but still smart enough to know that he’s nothing but a showpiece. He matters to no one, and no one matters to him.
His time, the 80s, was an era rich in excess and yuppie culture. For what it’s worth, times haven’t changed. ‘Psycho’ still speaks volumes today as Ellis knew even then the repercussions of the way things were. Around him people constantly indulged and lived the good life, without second thought as to those socially below them. Bateman himself is a symbol for all that Ellis despises. He didn’t create a hero, or even an anti-hero; he’s created a straight up bastard. Like his previous works, including The Rules of Attraction, he’s crafted a morality tale about characters with no morals. Ellis doesn’t wish Bateman to be idolized, but wants you to learn from him and know that he really exists. Perhaps he’s not as violent or as characterized, but the actions he’s capable of are only possible because society lets it so. The rich prosper while the lower class suffers. And all the while, those who put themselves amidst the glamour and fortune, are they really happy? Does claiming everything you could ever want actually bring the American Dream? In creating a serial killer as a yuppie, one who’s hopeless of the world around him and so personally unsure with himself, then Ellis’ answer would appear to be no.
As symbolic pieces of Literature and Visual culture, The Doom Generation and American Psycho are certainly not as unsure as their inhabiting characters. Though ‘Doom’ certainly takes the cake on symbolic abundance, ‘Psycho’ is not to be undermined as its individual parts are just bits of its symbolic whole. Together though, the two partner each other in a very complimentary way. Back to back, they serve a biting commentary on the land we call America. Both stories would lead you to believe that a perfect America is one of fiction. Through their exploitations they create an experience rich with afterthought. These aren’t just simple tales of violence and sex. They ask you to look beneath the surface, something many don’t often do in life. They don’t scream “DISSECT ME!” and it’s not necessary to take them apart bit by bit to enjoy them, but part of the joy of art is not taking things at face value. The stories are deceptive in their tactics, but easy to see through if you choose to do so. America so often is glorified as the perfect country, but Araki and Ellis know this to not be true. With their talents they crafted worlds not entirely dissimilar from reality, yet unique enough to set themselves apart. And in between the lines, or frames, is a layer bursting with something to say.
out by 16 or dead in the scene - but together forever.