I wonder what screen-writer Paul Schrader thinks of this scene.*Schrader put a lot of his heart and soul (and probably a bit of his sanity) into the script for Taxi Driver. His man who falls between the cracks ("God's lonely man" as he calls himself) has so isolated himself that his psyche is unraveling in a series of self-reflexive delusions. Trolling the streets in his hack, ferrying the entire strata of the denizens tramping the streets of New York, he spouts ambivalence to what he sees.
But, deep inside that brain ("squirming like a toad"), it's Judgement Day. And a combination of alcohol and barbituates to keep him awake behind the wheel isn't helping his mental state any.
Schrader articulates his character, Travis Bickle, with a mumbled narration translated from a diary the cabbie keeps of his day-to-day existence, as well as the fantasy-letters he sends to his parents. It's how we get to know the real Travis, as Robert De Niro's performance is contained and seems to seep out of his eye-balls, his dialogue limited and tentative, while on the sound-track the sounds of the street play in the background with the immediacy of being in the room.
So how must Schrader feel that the one scene that everybody remembers and percolated into the nation's zeitgeist is this ad-libbed scene in front of a mirror?**Travis has armed himself and adapted the weapons for concealment and surprise. But that's not enough. As he practices his draw, he practices his 'tude, too. Mouths his lines, tries his stance, chooses his persona, like an actor playing a role, he wants to see what his audience sees and refine it. And the "You talkin' to me?" like the rest of the mumbled, off-the-cuff, bits of play-acting, is a pose, a feint, and a challenge, all played out with a cocky grin because he knows the end-game.
That the angle favors him speaking to the audience just gives the scene a little more heat.
Taxi Driver still creeps, thirty years and a couple of intrusionsinto reality later. It may be the greatest film of the 70's, that last bastion of quality film-making before film-makers became students of students, and the block-buster mentality sunk everything to the level of the bottom line. Taxi Driver reflects the drifting schism of activism and narcissism in the post-Viet-nam America. The nation's wounds were still deep, and it seemed like there were more loose cannons all too eager to fire into them in a sado-masochistic urge to cauterize them in the muzzle-flash.
The Set-Up: Veteran Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) drives a cab up and down the night-soaked neon streets of New York, a steady diet of coffee and barbituates interfering with his sleep, his strike-out daytime activities feeding his feelings of elevated persecution and paranoia. While the city swirls with political gamesmanship and doorway seaminess, Travis has taken up arms against his perceived sea of troubles as a self-appointed vigilante—the concept hardening, the targets still undetermined. For now, the demons he encounters are in his own mirror, and he's embracing them.
Action!
Travis Bickle: Yeah. Travis: Uh-huh. Travis: Faster than you, you fuckin' son of a-- Travis: I saw you comin'... Travis: ...you fuckin' shit-heel. Travis: I'm standin' here. You make the move. Travis: You make the move. Travis: It's your move. Travis: Don't try it, you fuck. Travis: You talkin' to me? Travis: You talkin' to me? Travis: You talkin' to me? Travis: Then who the hell else are you talking-- You talking to me? Travis: Well, I'm the only one here. Travis: Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? Travis: Oh, yeah? Travis: Huh. Travis: 'kay...
The Story: This is one of my favorite shots in all of film, and it's so, so simple. But, it shows just how instinctive a film-maker Martin Scorsese is. It's from Taxi Driver, his nihilistic study in loneliness, pathology, and violence (written by Paul Schrader, who formed a troika of mutual muses with the actor and director). It's one shot, one take, one camera move. But, it says a lot.
I remember seeing this at a preview house (with my brother) and this moment connecting with me. Hack driver Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) is talking to a girl on the phone, whom he only knows as Betsy (Cybill Shepherd), who works for the presidential campaign of Charles Palantine (Leonard Harris), and there first date did not go well. How could it? He took her to a porno film. For Betsy, Travis was an enigma that she wanted to understand. But, now that she knows he's a creep, she'd rather not have anything to do with him. Good choice.
But, Travis is smitten. Here, he calls her to try to apologize and attempt a "do-over" but she's having none of it, and, for Travis, the call ends without success.
One shot, one take, one camera move. We start out on the pay-phone (remember those?), with Travis hunkered over to give himself some semblance of privacy. But, once another date has been rejected, the camera moves laterally away, smoothly settling on an empty hallway—the hallway that Travis will be travelling in a few moments to exit. I've read a couple analyses that say that the hallway "represents" the void that is Travis' life or soul or whatever. Yeah, maybe that'll work if you're "reaching" in a term-paper. Sometimes, it is what is is.
But, the reality is—Travis is getting rejected. Once Betsy says "no" to coffee, the call is over except for the useless, obligatory attempts at prolongation and a hasty, frustrated exit. And it is at that point that Scorsese's camera moves, reflecting Travis' thoughts—he wants to get out of there—"this isn't going well and I want to be somewhere else (ANYWHERE else)." At that point a clean getaway is on his mind, and so the camera moves, quite generously, to show the way. One more way that Scorsese's camera work gets inside the mind of Travis (not a very good place to be), revealing his thoughts, emotions and reactions—without the need of the first-person voice-over narration Schrader provided throughout the film.
One shot, one take, one move. But, intuitive, insightful, and elegantly simple. And it speaks volumes. Scorsese at his directorial best.
The Set-Up: Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) is sick and tired. He drives an all-night taxi, gliding through the darkened mean streets of New York, circa mid 1970's, among the night-hawks. "A loner, he kinda keeps to himself," he has attempted a relationship with blonde goddess campaign worker Betsy and failed. But, hope springs eternal. Until it is smashed, bashed, bludgeoned, left for dead, cremated, doused, and the ashes stirred. Action.
BICKLE: Hello, Betsy. Hi, it's Travis. How you doin'? Listen, I'm—I'm sorry about the other—the other night. I didn't know that was the way you felt about it. Well, I—I didn't know that was the way you felt. I—I—I would've taken you somewhere else. Uh. Are you feeling better or--
BICKLE: Well, maybe you had a virus or something, a 24 hour virus, you know. It can happen. Yeah. Uh. You, uh—You been working hard, huh? Well, it's—yeah...Can-uh. Would you like to have—uh—some dinner—uh—with me—um—in the next, you know, few days or sumpthin'?
BICKLE: Well, how about jus' a cup of coffee? I could come by the—the headquarters or something. We could--Oh, okay, okay, okay....Oh, okay.
BICKLE: Did you get my flowers in the-- You didn't get them?
BICKLE: I sent—uh—some flowers—uh...
BICKLE: ..uh..well, okay, okay. Can I call you again—uh—tomorrow or the next day?
BICKLE: Okay. Uh, no, I'm gonna-- Yeah, sure, okay. So long. (Hangs up)
VOICE-OVER: I tried several times to call her, but after the first call, she wouldn't come to the phone any longer. I also sent flowers, but with no luck.
The Story: "You talkin' to me?"
Travis Bickle: Yeah.
Travis: Uh-huh.
Travis: Faster than you, you fuckin' son of a--
Travis: I saw you comin'...
Travis: ...you fuckin' shit-heel.
Travis: I'm standin' here. You make the move.
Travis: You make the move.
Travis: It's your move.
Travis: Don't try it, you fuck.
Travis: You talkin' to me?
Travis: You talkin' to me?
Travis: You talkin' to me?
Travis: Then who the hell else are you talking-- You talking to me?
Travis: Well, I'm the only one here.
Travis: Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?
Travis: Oh, yeah?
Travis: Huh.
Travis: 'kay...
