This pretends to be a sequel to the superb American Psycho. It isn't. it's an insult. It simply exploits a spurious association and in so doing drags down the earlier work.

Right from the very start to the very last second we are hammered with the leaden narration of the lead character, nothing is left for us to see. It might as well be a "talking book for the visually impaired". Maybe the director is visually impaired: how else does he fail to see the absurdity of the illustration on the cover of a book about a murder being a photo taken a few minutes after the incident for which there were only three witnesses without a photographer among them?

The plot makes no sense. Sure, the stolen identity idea works, just about, but even that falls apart when we consider that college records usually include photos of the students. What is worse is that the narrator tells us she kept quiet about seeing a murder to avoid years of therapy, then goes to a therapist anyway, doesn't actually tell him anything, but invests great effort in inspiring fear in him, a character who had no relevance whatever to the protagonists plans. Except that, coincidentally, he happens to be the professors friend. Which suggests that this entire chunk of the plot is simply a cack-handed way of tacking-on an external viewpoint to the professors death. How incompetent a method of storytelling is that?

In a work where it is used to serious effect we might tolerate the gross and extreme violence that begin with the very first frame ( a severed head ). But in this context, a ridiculous piece of chirpy teen-twaddle, that explicit violence becomes offensive.

Speaking of teen-twaddle, the music is unremittingly awful throughout. Apart from the incidental score. But hang on, how come the movie's own incidental music is actually playing on the girls car radio? Remember, she actually turns it's volume up! This detail is a POS of the highest order.

Tip: Morgan Freeman, stick to "acting", I mean, smoking cigars and looking soulful!