Rupert Goold’s slick and shiny take on Bret Easton Ellis’s disturbing satire returns to the stage after more than a decade Two bloodied female bodies are draped over a sofa, their elegantly stockinged legs twitching disconcertingly to a pulsing electronic score. It's a crime scene, but it feels jarringly stylish – like a fashion show in an abattoir. And that cognitive dissonance is typical of the grimmest musical to darken London's stages in years. Studded with retro numbers by Duncan Sheik (