THIS IS MY LAST REVIEW as film editor of The Stranger. Having been here since the paper started back in the fall of '91 (ah, it seems like yesterday that Teen Spirit was just a deodorant for high school girls, that Seattle Weekly charged 75 cents an issue, and that Microsoft was the temp job of choice), it's been fun and fascinating to watch The Stranger grow from a 12-page rag to the behemoth it is today. I've seen a lot of changes over the years -- in the paper, in the city, not to mention the business of filmmaking and distribution -- but this is the biggest change of all, because this time it's personal. This time it's about ME!

Before I get into all that, let me first get into this -- my last review. Like a lot of people, I expected American Psycho to be bad. Based on the near-universally reviled book by Bret Easton Ellis, the movie garnered initial interest when neo-feminist director Mary Harron (I Shot Andy Warhol) decided this would be her next project, casting Christian Bale (Empire of the Sun, Velvet Goldmine) as the misogynistic serial killer Patrick Bateman. Then producer/distributor Lions Gate very publicly and prematurely dropped Bale in favor of post-Titanic Leonardo DiCaprio, who quickly dropped out. Bale returned, the movie was made, and the excitement started to grow. Then it screened at Sundance, and it started getting negative reviews and "bad buzz."

Bad buzz is a difficult thing to overcome, but if any movie deserves to overcome it, it's American Psycho. The movie is actually not bad. Really. In fact, it's pretty good. Set at the height of the Reagan '80s, American Psycho deftly satirizes the deadening effect of unchecked corporate wealth and power. In his opening voice-over, Bateman himself recognizes how he's lost the ability to feel or care, instead moving through life with his rituals of exercise, personal grooming, and hanging out at trendy restaurants with the boys from work. Then something inside him snaps, and he discovers the only way for him to feel anything, or at least relieve his tension, is by killing people.

The movie isn't perfect. Bateman's homicidal potential is established early on, most notably in verbal attacks against women in the service industry, so when his rage erupts into murder, it's not a surprise. What is surprising, and quite funny actually, are his monologues about the genius of Huey Lewis, Phil Collins, and Whitney Houston, which he performs before and during the killings. Whereas the book is notorious for its graphic depictions of the murder and mutilation of women, the movie doesn't focus on the victims or linger on the violence. Unfortunately, the movie has him do one murder too many, killing (so to speak) the momentum before his character can gloriously self-destruct.

Because Bateman is nearly a cartoon character, it's extremely difficult to care much about his identity crisis ("I think my mask of sanity is slipping...") or whether or not he eventually gets caught. Overall, however, the movie works, particularly because the jokes are deadpan funny.

But enough about the movie -- let's talk about me. I quit. Heck, I never planned on becoming a film critic to begin with. Had I not tagged along with my best friend, Matt Cook, when he was asked to be the initial editor of this start-up paper in Seattle, I don't think I ever would have been. But I did tag along, and I ended up a part of this ever-changing, often dysfunctional Keck Family Newspaperâ„¢. During my tenure as film editor, I've watched as Sundance gained and lost its position as the most powerful film festival in the world, as independent studios like Miramax were bought out by big studios like Disney, and as video shifted from being a format fit only for documentaries to a viable format for low-budget features. The landscape continues to change, and I will keep watching -- because, quite frankly, I love the movies.

Finally, for everyone who currently e-mails me information on film showings and events, there's a new address to send stuff to: film@thestranger.com. For anyone who feels like sending me a more personal farewell note, I'll be keeping my old address for a while: andy@thestranger.com. Yes, I'm moving on. I quit. I'm outta here. But what'll I do? Aside from freelancing for Amazon.com and AtomFilms, I got myself a job at the Seattle International Film Festival organizing the Filmmakers Forum and Fly Filmmaking programs, and that should keep me plenty busy. Plus, I may return to these very pages eventually, but as a mere contributor, to spout off some more. Until that time... farewell.