God's Lonely Man

 

Is this a dagger I see before me,

The handle toward my hand?...

                                                                                                                                    Macbeth

                                                                                                                                    Wm. Shakespeare

                       

            An absorbing and challenging film, Taxi Driver is a landmark in cinema of the 1970's.  The film, a powerful essay on male alienation and aggression in modern America, is unlike anything that came before it.  The intense screenplay by Paul Schrader coupled with self-assured direction of Martin Scorsese and depth provided by Robert De Niro's acting place this film among the masterworks of modern cinema.  It is one of those rare films where the right combination of talent came together at exactly the right time and ignited.

The 1970's saw a renaissance in the film industry as a younger generation of filmmakers took up the sagging reins of American cinema.  Wunderkind directors such as George Lucas and Steven Spielberg pushed the envelope of genre films to exciting new realms.  Other directors such as Francis Ford Coppola, Terrance Malik, Arthur Penn, Paul Schrader and Martin Scorsese directly challenged established filmmaking conventions.  It is during this revolutionary time in American cinema that Taxi Driver came to be made.  With the benefit of hindsight, one could rightfully claim that this is perhaps the only time in the history of American film that a movie like Taxi Driver could have ever been made at all.  

            The plot of Taxi Driver revolves around Travis Bickle (De Niro), a lonely, young Vietnam veteran.  Through Travis' eyes we see the world of New York, circa 1975.  Travis' world is the under-belly of society.  "All the animals come out at night.  Whores, scum, pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies... sick... venal.  Someday a real rain will come and wash all the scum off the streets."  These lines near the beginning of the film give us an immediate insight into his thoughts and motivations.  What Travis never realizes though, is that he is an integral part of everything he observes and despises.

            In the opening of the picture, we see Travis emerging from a cloud of smoke to enter the cabstand.  There he applies for the graveyard shift, because, he says, he can't sleep at night.  The taxi becomes a symbol of the character's isolation.  He drives the city streets insulated in his metal cocoon.  

His life becomes a routine of driving all night and frequenting porno theaters during the day.  In the middle of this routine, Travis becomes fixated on a beautiful, young, upper-middle class, campaign worker named Betsy (Cybill Shepherd).  Finally gaining the courage to ask her out on a date, he takes her to the porn theater because this is all he knows.  Betsy walks out on him, disgusted, and refuses his flowers and phone calls.  While Travis is trying to figure out Betsy's rejection of him, he meets and befriends, Iris (Jodie Foster), a twelve-year-old prostitute, who becomes a strange surrogate for Betsy.

            As Travis starts sinking into his sociopathic madness, he purchases a small arsenal of handguns and starts to practice with them in front of the mirror.  He begins preparing his body and mind for what he feels is his divine mission in life; he will assassinate Senator Pallantine, the candidate Betsy works for.  His attempt is thwarted by the Secret Service, who catch on to his suspicious behavior.  He escapes, and instead of killing the Senator, he goes to the dingy hotel Iris works out of and murders her pimp, along with everyone else in his way.  The media, aware only that he "saved" Iris, turns him into a hero.

            In the film Travis is always shown as an observer and doesn't become a participant until the final, violent climax.  He is never able to make any real human connection.  His associates at the cabstand are not friends, even though he occasionally sits in on their conversations and tries to fit in.  His attempts to relate to Betsy are completely misguided. In fact, the only one he really relates to is Iris, the twelve-year-old hooker that he becomes fixated on and eventually incorporates into his death fantasy.  

            The screenwriter, Paul Schrader, exposes the character of Travis through a mixture of dialog, situation and environment.  From the initial moment the audience sees Travis, they are given clues and insights into his psychotic personality.  The strongest clues to Travis' true character come from a voice-over that narrates his thoughts and diary entries.  These revelations become more unsettling as the audience realizes just how dangerous he really is.  The voice-over disappears in the final act as Travis sets out on his mission, adding to the film's sense of realism.  The overall effect pulls the viewer into Travis' world; they feel as though they really know Travis, how he lives and how he thinks.

            The dramatic structure of the film is hard to pin down.  In some ways it conventional, the film progresses from point “A” to point “B.”  In other ways though is unconventional, in that we do not necessarily know where point B is going to lead.  As in life, we do not always know what to expect next in this film.  The film starts slowly and gradually builds to an orgasmic climax of bloodshed and violence.  According to Schrader, he wrote the entire screenplay in just ten days after suffering through an ordeal of pain, loneliness and near psychosis.  These emotions reverberate throughout the piece.

            The acting in Taxi Driver is some of the most realistic in modern film.  Robert De Niro's characterization is completely convincing.  You can see the tension in his eyes and his body language tightening as he begins to break down.  His performance at once elicits sympathy from the audience while frightening them at the same time. 

The supporting actors are equally noteworthy.  As Iris, Jodie Foster's performance is a mixture of worldliness and naivete that won her an Academy Award for best supporting actress. Harvey Keitel is also convincing as Sport, Iris' pimp.  Peter Boyle, Albert Brooks and Cybill Shepherd all do wonderfully in smaller character roles as well.

The direction by Martin Scorsese is masterful.  Scorsese's style of directing is perfectly suited to Schrader's screenplay and De Niro's acting.  He borrows from other directors, such as Sam Peckinpah and Samuel Fuller, and melds it into his own with this film.  He constantly, but unobtrusively, uses devices of the cinema to emphasize Travis's life as the ultimate outsider.  Scorsese's camera underlines the anxiety and isolation by keeping the character alone in the frame most of the time, even when he is trying to relate to others.  In one scene we see Travis walking down a crowded New York street and only his face is in focus; he is just another face in the crowd.

Scorsese also uses mirrors in his shots to further symbolize the central character’s isolation from the real world.  Travis observes his passengers through the mirror in the cab.  He practices with his guns in front of the mirror in his apartment.  In the last shot of the film, we see Travis' eyes reflected in the cab's rear-view mirror and a look that tells us he will snap again.

            To call this film an auteur piece would be a disservice to the contributions of Paul Schrader, Robert De Niro and Cinematographer Michael Chapman.  Although he is know for carefully overseeing all aspects of production, as any good director should, Martin Scorsese is not necessarily an autuerist director.  Although there are many trademarks that make a Scorsese picture unique, his films also rely on strong collaborations with his scenarists, cinematographers and actors.

            Taxi Driver definitely bears the stamp of Scorsese's unique filmmaking signature.  The New York setting of the film puts Scorsese on his home turf.  The New York City in his films is not a location so much as it is another character.  Scorsese's New York pulsates and breathes in his films.  As shown in Mean Streets, Raging Bull and Goodfellas, no one knows better how to map on film the physical and psychological terrain of New York City and its denizens.  

            Another similarity that Taxi Driver shares with Martin Scorsese's other works is its exploration of male aggression and violence.  Often criticized for his films being too violent, Scorsese presents frank examinations of the brutality in men.  Travis Bickle's bloodbath in Taxi Driver is not so distanced from Jake La Mota's punishing his contenders in the ring in Raging Bull or Tommy, Henry and Jimmy taking care of business in Goodfellas.  Scorsese doesn't try to provide any excuses for these men's actions, he is more concerned with what drives them.

Also exceptional, the editing by Marsha Lucas dictates the pace of the movie while staying unobtrusive.  The film begins with a slow pace, showing us the dull routine of Travis's life.  The editing then becomes tighter and faster paced as the film progresses along with Travis' madness.  In the epilogue though, the filmmakers revert back to the slow pacing, suggesting the original routine.

Technically, the film is a marvel of perfection.  Every nuance of lighting, sound effects and music score is perfectly matched to the drama and add to the movie's realistic feel.  The Michael Chapman's lighting design dictates the emotion of the scenes while also representing the locale where the action takes place.  From the brightly lit campaign office, to the neon glow of Forty-second street, to the dim gloom of the hotel in the finale, the lighting always keeps the film grounded in realism.

            Sound is also used as a device to help shape the film's reality. It is asynchronous at certain times, subliminally influencing our perception of the scene. In one instance, we see Travis purchasing guns in an apartment while the sounds of children playing outside are heard.  In another example, we see Iris dancing sweetly with Sport, her pimp, and then we hear the sound of gunshots a few seconds before the scene cuts to show Travis practicing at a shooting range, foreshadowing the events to come. 

            Bernard Herrman's unconventional score manipulates the audience as well.  The music starts out slow and jazzy, building with the tension of the film.  The absence of the score in the climax gives it an edgier feel; it doesn't return until the bloodshed is over and the final impact begins to take hold of the viewer.  Mr. Herrmann was best known for his work with Alfred Hitchcock and Taxi Driver was his last film score (the film, in fact, is dedicated to his memory).

            Taxi Driver is a great film because it challenges it's audience with some difficult questions and observations.  A normal face in the crowd can be capable of incomprehensible violence.  What does it matter whether such a person assassinates a presidential candidate or guns down a pimp?  To Travis, isolated from the real world, it was all the same.  Perhaps we will stop and think the next time we hear about someone the media has bequeathed the title of "hero."

 

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