Sunday, July 16, 2006

Nostalgia Saturday Takes a Darker Turn... With Travis

No not the "Why does it always rain on me" singing band. Though their blandness would have made for a darker turn of events. No I'm talking about Travis Bickle. The geat anti hero of cinema. After the jubilation of Raiders of the Lost Ark came the despair of Taxi Driver. And I loved it.

Taxi Driver remains one of the great films. A phenomenol performance from De Niro which only makes his fall from cinematic grace in recent years that much more depressing. A great script by Paul Schrader, wonderful direction by Scorsese, a great score by Bernard Herrmann... I find that film grabs me and shakes me around for two hours, like it's a desperate parent trying to shake some sense into its child, then finally lets me go. But it's so eminantly watchable, which in some ways is a paradox given how dark the film is. I think it's De Niro's performance that's so compulsive. That anger, rage, just below the surface. Bubbling away. The script of course achieves this also and is fantastically structured. Travis expends his pent up energy and his attempts to connect with people, firstly on trying to woo Cybil Shepherd's Betsy, in one of the film's standout scenes, by taking her to a porn film. When that fails, his energy increases, his anger increases, he tries to confide in his colleague Wizard (Peter Boyle) that he's having "bad thoughts" but Wizard just tells him he'll be okay. He then turns his attention to 12 1/2 year old prostitute Iris (Jodie Foster). He tries to save her aswell as cleaning up the streets a little bit by killing all the scum he sees around her.

Driving his taxi, Travis is privy to the very worst New York has to offer. He's sickened by it, disturbed by it. Yet what's interesting is that he does this by choice. At the start of the film he is explicitly asked if there is anywhere he won't drive to or any days he won't work. His answer is the same both times. "Anytime, anywhere." He doesn't necessarily have to be surrounded by all this but his own self loathing and his abhorrence at what he sees all around him are inextricably linked. At the end of his shifts he has to "wash the cum off the back seat". He then goes to a porno theatre, comes on to the woman selling the sweets etc, and, having his advances refused, sinks low into his chair to watch the film. The link between sex and violence is ever present, both in Travis and in the city around him. When Betsy finally spurns Travis for good, he confronts her in her work place. Attempting to escort him out of the building, Tom (Albert Brooks) finds himself receiving karate gestures from Travis that, while somewhat comical, nonetheless hint that this is a person who will always react outwards rather than looking in to see how his own behaviour may have contributed to his predicament. A short time later, his passenger is a deranged man (Scorses himself making a cameo) who is watching his wife cheat on him. He talks at length to Travis how he's going to kill the man with a .44 Magnum, the gun Travis ends up doing much of his own killing with. Sex and violence, always interlinked.

So much has been written about Taxi Driver and I don't really feel I have very much new to add. Nor do I have a nostalgic anecdote about this film. Somewhat unsurprisingly I didn't watch it with my Dad and brother at the age of nine. But it's a visceral, arresting film. From the early images of the cab emerging from what looks like Hell, with the red neon and the steam erupting from city grates, to the final images of carnage Travis has caused in an attempt to make a statement, to make a difference, to in some way belong, the film never lets up. And what's interesting is that the ending allows him a chance to belong with the letter of gratitude he receives from Iris' parents that they now have their little girl back. Of course we know it's a pretty meaningless redemption. He was trying to save her, yes. But not because it was her specifically. It could have been anyone. It happened to be her because she stumbled across his cab one night when she looked like she was in trouble. Interesting also is the allusion to, but never explicitely stated idea that, Travis is a scarred Vietnam vet. His clothing indicate military background. With his shirt removed, we see a battle scarred body and of course he is more than competent with firearms. At his interview at the start of the film he tells his employer that he has been honoroubly discharged from active duty. But the film never directly links his disturbed nature with his military background. Is that the cause of his current state? Presumably not, which is why I've always assumed the film doesn't make a clear connection. Indeed, it's reasonable to assume Travis joined the military in the first place as another way to connect, to make a difference, possibly even to provide himself an outlet for his violent tendencies.

You'll never see a better portrayal of a man lost, a man searching for something, for what he doesn't even know himself, than Taxi Driver. A picture of alienation, Travis Bickle remains one of cinema's most riveting characters, written by a writer at his most raw, portrayed by one of the greatest living actors back when he still gave a shit. I had never before seen Taxi Driver on the big screen. After yesterday, it'll be hard to watch it any other way.

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