We have all sat in theaters and marveled in childlike wonder at the effects of Star Wars and Jaws, felt the stiffness of fear invade our muscles as we anticipated the fall of Jack's axe and laughed our selves to sickness as Spinal Tap blundered their way across America. American cinema has offered a fine feast of big budget, big name and big box office victuals for our hungry eyes over the last one hundred years, however, there is one truly outstanding delicacy that satiates not only our eyes, but also our very souls: Taxi Driver. Taxi Driver is the best film of the twentieth century.
In 1976, America was in the midst of a social identity crisis. Conflict and scandal introduced the first half of the decade with Vietnam and Watergate. "American society appeared in imminent danger of collapse" due to factors such as "feminism, black militancy [and] gay activism" (Wood 1185). Schrader captures this ambience in his script and illustrates the frustration and alienation felt by the main character, Travis Bickle.
The film chronicles the Dantean descent of Travis Bickle into his personal hell; his progress, however, is bereft of a knowledgeable guide. Travis is beset on all sides by the filth, injustice, and plasticity of modern American culture. He is stifled by the mocking alienation of a seedy New York City nightlife but desperately searches for a place within it. From his own words we understand his deepest desire: to "become a person like other people". Barbara Mortimer suggests that "what Taxi Driver documents is not only the desire of people today to create 'authentic selves', but the impossibility of doing so" (29). Are we ultimately frustrated reflections of a diluted society? The study of Travis Bickle tells us that this is the case. He is a study of our times.
The script for Taxi Driver found purchase in the soil of Paul Schrader's problematic life. It mirrored his failed love, poor health and mental stress. Les Keyser shows that "the rejection by two women, the drinking, the aimless drifting, the alien urban environment, the porno and the stomach pains", would provide the chaotic inspiration Schrader would mould into Travis Bickle (66). The poignancy of his predicament enabled Schrader to write two drafts of the script in just under 2 weeks.
Schrader is protective of his vision and has learned "to maintain more control over his material, either by working with sympathetic directors…or by becoming a director himself" (Bliss 1-2). To this end, Schrader has often raised capital to fund movies rather than having to rely on the studios, although he does acknowledge that "[He would] love to work for the studios. [He loves] those big budgets, [he loves] those toys…the problem is…there is always going to be interference" (9).
There was no compromise made by Martin Scorsese either. He agreed to a 1.3 million dollar budget, and demanded ultimate control. He was granted "a freedom that few Hollywood directors ever achieve" (Keyser 67). An example of Scorsese's refusal to relinquish any of his control was evidenced when Columbia wanted him to move shooting indoors due to chronic thunderstorms; he shut the filming down. Columbia eventually relented and filming resumed (68). His rational was that "you really have to love something enough to kill it" (qtd. in Keyser 69).
To say that Scorsese is a passionate man is an understatement. When you see the man speak, you can sense his aggressive genius working behind his ever-moving eyes. He injects so much of himself into his work, but does not let his ideals dominate. His use of Catholic symbols "in his films can reveal something of [his] perception of himself and his world" (Blake 2).
In contrast to Scorsese, Schrader, a devout Calvinist, "maintains that a film reaches the transcendent by paring away props to the senses and forcing the viewer to confront the spiritual realities behind the images" (3). "But Martin Scorsese is probably the least transcendental director imaginable" (Dempsey 40). Despite, or perhaps due to the contrasting styles, they have produced Taxi Driver: a concise character study of human conflict and alienation from society. "Schrader's collaborations with Scorsese…represent a rare blend of complementary talents" (Bliss 2).
With exceptional writing and direction in place, the role of Travis was now in the hands of Robert DeNiro. It would have been a compromise to the integrity of the film had the role been cast otherwise. Notorious for his fanatical preparations and research, his diligence could not have been paralleled. As Peter Boyle (who plays Wizard) pointed out in the documentary Making Taxi Driver, DeNiro, while working on a film in Italy, would fly back to New York on the weekends. He had obtained a taxi-drivers license and would spend his time driving a cab around the city.
Jodi Foster (who plays Iris) recalls that DeNiro would take her to lunch at various places in the city and they would just sit without talking. Then they would rehearse the lines over and over. For the young actress, this was utter boredom. She reflected later that he was making her so comfortable with him and learning the lines so well that their interaction and ad-libs would come naturally and seem true (Making). The culmination of Schrader's vision, Scorsese's intensity and Deniro's dedication defined the most provocative character study in film history. "Travis Bickle - the collaboration of writer, director and actor - remains fascinating throughout" (Canby).
Scorsese's mastery of composition create sequences which develop Travis's character. The shots are filmed very tight and up close. The scenes are dark and seedy. giving us the feel for Travis's suffocation. From the opening of the film, we sense the searching nature of the character. A close up of eyes, slowly scanning, fill the screen. The scene shifts to shots of the city filmed through the rain soaked windshield of a taxi cab. The scenes are blurred and distorted The cab emerges from "steam pouring from…manhole covers [and] the people and traffic are hard edged; their movements are multiplied and…leave trails of light and traces of their forms" (Kolker 229). We see what Travis sees; the visions of a man without clarity of vision and confused by his surroundings. "Some critics have referred to this sequence as an emergence from hell" (229).
Scorsese uses contrast in his shots as well, giving us a feel for Travis's need for action and his inability to do so. "Every scene combines the frantic and the still, almost simultaneously. The film has a good sense of modern paralysis; people flailing about but not moving an inch" (Patterson 34). The implication of duality defines Travis's character in ways the spoken words of the character cannot.
The scene where Travis is lying on his bed with no expression on his face or movement of his body shows us that "Travis is a paralyzed being" (Kolker 226). The shot is filmed from above, allowing us to look upon his isolation in the detached perspective the character is immersed in. At the same time, we are "[repulsed] from him, for the angle of approach…is too disorienting" (226).
The structure of many scenes offer interesting shots and "[provokes] our discomfort and…perceptual dislocation" (230). The choice of angle and placement is utilized to emphasize the displacement and awkwardness of Travis "and [prepare] us…for events to come" (231).
Travis embodies a soul in search of meaning. He looks around and sees only the "whores, skunk pussies, buzzers, queens, fairies, dopers, [and] junkies". He believes that "someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets". He is so immersed in his disgust for the world he dwells in that he cannot sleep at night. His decision to drive a cab on the night shift is symbolic of his isolation, but it also enables him to interact with other people: to observe and judge them. Scorsese does not intend to offer reasons why Travis has reached such isolation, but he does want us to see the conflict in Travis' mind (Kolker 224). The movie, shot almost exclusively from Travis' point of view, shows only images of seediness and corruption.
Travis finds hope in Betsy, the idealistic campaign worker. Betsy represents purity to Travis. She is the angel from heaven amidst the hell of his world. He feels she is the one real person he can make a connection with. He wins her over with shallow charms and they date. When Travis takes her to a porn movie on their second encounter, Betsy becomes offended and flees from him. Travis tries to contact her with an apologetic heart, but she rebuffs him again. Travis cannot deal with the rejection.
Michael Dempsey suggests that the sequence of the failed date "is inept, yet cunning" and cannot understand Travis' "gaffe" because, as a cab driver, Travis witnesses "every variety of human kinkiness" (39). What Mr. Dempsey fails to understand is that it is because of Travis' isolated immersion in the filth around him that prevents him from understanding why his actions elicited such disdain from Betsy. He expects to be forgiven. She was the one that was supposed to save him. The angel now becomes a demon to Travis, leading him further down into the abyss.
In contrast to Betsy, Iris enters Travis' life abruptly and is in need of a savior. She is seeking escape from her life of prostitution. She jumps into his cab and implores him to take her away. Travis sits paralyzed as her pimp (Sport, played by Harvey Keitel) drags her out of the cab and back to his side. He later tries to convince her to run away from Sport, but she rebuffs his help. He is rejected once again. Barbara Mortimer asserts that "by cavalierly rejecting the role Travis has scripted for them, the female characters in [the film] are responsible for Travis's inability to script himself as the hero of his own life story" (30).
The frustrations of Travis's rejections and his ability to sort through the thoughts in his mind leave him lost. Two sequences in the film provide the focus for Travis to become the hero he strives to be. The first involves a lone passenger, played by Martin Scorsese. The passenger has Travis park the cab in front of a building. The passenger explains that his wife is having an affair with a black man. He tells Travis that he plans to kill them both. The intensity of the passenger paralyzes Travis. "Did you ever see what a .44 magnum pistol can do to a woman's face?" he says.
Travis is obviously conflicted by the passenger as is evidenced in the second sequence of his enlightenment. Travis approaches Wizard for some advice. He tries to explain to Wizard the conflict he feels. All he manages to say is that he has some "bad ideas in [his] head". Wizard responds with a philosophical speech, which Travis does not immediately grasp, but we will see that they are the words that solidify Travis's course of action. He says, "A man takes a job…and that job…that becomes what he is…you do a thing and that's what you are". It is at this point that Travis realizes that his job is to assassinate the presidential candidate, Charles Palantine.
In preparation for this task, Travis gathers a small arsenal of guns. He excercises to get fit and rehearses his role. He descends further into his insanity in the sequences regarding this preparation. This point in the film is the setup for the violent eruption Travis will unleash at the end. The most famous sequence of the film, which were total improvisation from DeNiro, show us that Travis is ready to strike. The irony we need to see is that Travis is actually talking to himself as he says: "You talking to me? Well I'm the only one here". He is the only one there, not only in his dingy room, but in the world. He is a hero to himself and will save himself.
Travis fails in his attempt to carry out his assassination of Pallentine. This leads to the climax of the film. Unable to succeed in any attempts so far to create his heroic role, he lashes out with desperate violence in a final attempt to save Iris. He arrives at the building where Iris entertains her clients. He is erratic and still unsure of what he should do. Eventually he approaches Sport and shoots him in the street, enters the building and shoots the manager and proceeds to Iris's room and shoots her client. Blood is awash in the scene. The shot switches to an overhead and we see the events frozen in time. The shot begins to track slowly, retracing the scene. Within the building there is no movement: Travis, the police and the corpses are frozen in time. This is the defining moment in Travis's life. Barbara Mortimer captures the essence when she states: "Before our eyes, the scene of the crime becomes a text" (30).
The shot fades and opens to a new shot of the green wall of Travis's hospital room. The camera pans across and we see newspaper clippings taped to the wall. The headlines allude to the heroic taxi driver who battled gangsters. We hear a voice over from Iris's father, thanking Travis for returning her to her home. We sense a calm contentment about Travis.
Travis had achieved his goal. He had become a hero, he had become "a person like other people", but in doing so Travis did not succeed in creating an authentic role for himself. Quite the opposite, he allowed himself to become false. The media and the misconstrued information it presented created the role of savior for Travis. Travis's actions were not borne from heroism or good intentions. He lashed out in anger for selfish reasons.
Taxi Driver is a gift from creative, albeit fevered imaginations. Of all the movies of the 20th century, there are none that can compare. Laced with Martin Scorsese's unique gift of moviemaking, the brilliant writing of Paul Schrader, the unequaled performance of Robert DeNiro and a well selected supporting cast, this film entices us with a dominating theme of alienation and one man's attempt to find redemption in a world of social inadequacy. While the character of Travis Bickle tends toward the extreme, we can relate. After all, there is a little Bickle in us all. Yeah, I'm talking to you.
was the truest movie of the era. It did not rely on big budget and big effects, but on concise vision and social commentary.