The Awkward Beauty of Taxi Driver

I watched Taxi Driver again on Saturday. I’ve now seen it at least a dozen times, probably closer to sixteen. 

It’s an awkward watch. Uncomfortable. Squirming, you feel like looking away at times. Yet compelling. You can’t take your eyes off it.

Just watch Travis Bickle (Robert Deniro) take Betsy (Cybill Shepherd) on a date to a porn theater. Oh dear. For that matter any scene between the two of them is a tough go. Even when — maybe especially — she’s not seen because it’s a phone conversation. We watch Travis at a payphone in a lobby apologizing for their awful date, asking — begging — for a second date. Thankfully Scorsese spares us after awhile by eventually directing the camera down an empty hallway. We still have to listen but we’re at least spared watching the unctuous, fawning excessively strange cab driver pleading his case.

These are the worst of it but Bickle’s “social” interactions with everyone else are a hard watch. The man’s not right (rather the whole point of the film). We wonder what’ll he say, what’ll he do next. Even after a dozen viewings that question persists as if somehow this time it could be different. 

Who is this Bickle character? Start with Cary Grant in, let’s say, The Philadelphia Story as C.K. Dexter Haven (although you could use a score of other Grant characters). Then travel to the opposite end of the universe. Reverse up and down. Bickle is the antithesis of a glib, charming raconteur. He is every stilted moment we’ve ever had — doubled. He is that acquaintance we’e embarrassed for while we watch him ask that out-of-his-league woman for a date. Bickle is every awkward silence we’ve ever been in, ever social malaprop we’ve committed, every wrong thing we’ve said at the wrong time. He’s when we forget to zip up after taking a quick leak. 

But he’s so much more. He’s a lethal killer. A killing machine. A dangerous menace. A blight upon society. Travis Bickle has no place in society polite or otherwise. A ticking time bomb. Sure it all works out for him in the end but he’s back out there and the world may not be so lucky next time. He may not be spotted seconds before shooting a candidate. It might not be gangsters and pimps he slaughters given a second chance. We don’t think he’s “reformed” do we? I think not.

Oh yes, this Bickle fellow is a product of society. We made him. A lot of those who walk among us are lumps of clay ultimately formed by the voices, and the actions and the people around them. Look at Trump supporters. They spent years as empty vessels ready for just the right (wrong) moment and leader to fashion them into MAGA zealots. Bickle, the lonely figure had no core of beliefs, no philosophy. As an ex-Marine, he’s trained to follow. What to do when there are no leaders around? He's not a reader, not a connoisseur of any of the arts, not attuned to politics (he supports a candidate without really knowing his position on the issues). He has no religion or philosophy. No education (he says “some, here and there”). He is malleable. The harsh, the ugly realities of society combine with his own psychosis, his pathological loneliness to form him into an angry, twisted man. One who’s heavily armed. When trying to choose a gun to buy he opts for “all of them.”

Yes, it’s true and correct that he wants to save a young hooker. Good intentions. He hates the wrongness of a twelve-year-old being a victim of human trafficking. He can’t let it stand. Travis to the rescue. The right impulse. But it leads to vigilante justice. It also comes after his foiled plot to kill a presidential candidate. There’s a lot going on in that man’s head but it has no structure, no basis in ethics or morality. It is wild and untamed. Might kill an innocent man or a gangster. Awkward. 

I get more out of Taxi Driver with each viewing. Despite how it can make me feel at times. There’s the jazz soundtrack that is so mournful and portentous of a lonely, ugly ride through New York’s meaner streets seen through the eyes of one it’s meaner denizens. I don’t “like” the music, but the film would be sorely lacking without it.

There is of DeNiro in one of those performance that transcends “acting” and is closer to embodying. It’s a role — like Bogart as Fred Dobbs in Treasure of the Sierra Madre or Paul Newman as the titular character in Hud — that is more than memorable or iconic. It is part of the legacy of motion pictures.

Taxi Driver is very watchable because of DeNiro, Jodie Foster, Peter Boyle and the rest of the cast (including Scorsese’s own cameo). Viewers are also drawn to the exquisite cinemaphotography and the brilliant coloring of the climactic bloodbath. It’s a masterclass of directing by Scorsese and one of cinema’s greatest achievements. All this despite being really awkward. I mean seriously.