A 26 year old cabbie makes his rounds in the most debauched upon streets of New York City. Awash in this flagrant behavior and plagued by those sensitive inner workings that compel a man to that which awaits him, Travis Bickle equips himself to take matters in to his own hands.
Scorsese paints a paradoxical chauffeur in Taxi Driver. Travis is a hollow vessel of a man, and in Scorsese’s New York, there is no vacuum into which the spuming communal exhaust of a crowded city, whose most hopeful redemption is still an absurd collection of grievous prejudices, will not flow and overflow. The city is an expellant “organiz-ism” whose wasted, useless byproduct it is Travis’ unenviable job to wipe off the backseats nightly. Part goodhearted and part misguided, part reflection and part projection, part cowboy and part Indian, Travis Bickle is neither fully gear nor wrench, but he is certainly just a small part of something larger and much more terrifying.
- Taxi Driver (Scorsese 1976) @ Roxie Cinema