We open on Travis Bickle's dark watchful eyes gazing out of the window of his cab; he sees dreamlike scenes, all billowing smoke and blurred neon lights. Every distorted image is viewed through the lens of a windscreen that gushes with water - an apt division to place between our protagonist and the world - it echoes both his detachment and clouded perspective. This opening passage through what seems a sort of Stygian underworld is rendered with an achingly cinematic style that continues throughout the film. Michael Chapman's cinematography captures the clashes of the dark street corners with harsh artificial shop signs, bleeding them into one another, whilst the saxophone of Bernard Herrmann's score expresses something completely transcendent.
Travis is perhaps the defining example of the type of fundamentally flawed character with which Scorsese and De Niro worked so brilliantly in the late seventies and early eighties. From Travis Bickle to Jake La Motta all the way to Rupert Pupkin, they showed themselves to be masters of the portrayal of emotionally crippled men, deeply isolated from the world. In Travis' case, this manifests itself as an irrepressible desire to salvage what innocence he can from a world that he perceives as rotten to the core.
Despite this morally ambiguous centre, Travis is treated typically affectionately by Scorsese, fostering - in the same way that he often does - a compassion for a character that is profoundly flawed. Indeed it is the ways in which these flaws are explored which make Travis so completely likeable; we are able to empathise with everything he does on some level. Even more instrumental in this is De Niro, brimming with wiry energy, his performance paints a picture of a man at tipping point perfectly. When he says "I get some real crazy ideas, you know?", we definitely believe him. However, what is most compelling about his performance is the visible evolution of the character. The descent from his burgundy blazer clad charm to the gun toting vigilantism with which we finish is made completely convincing by De Niro.
As the film gradually progresses towards a violent climax that feels inevitable, the growing sense of grim direction we see in Travis is mirrored by the film. We are made to feel like him - careering towards the edge of a cliff - without the means or desire to divert our course. One excellent sequence shows Travis watching the TV, he sits back in an armchair tipping the crate on which it rests with his foot, pushing it farther and farther until finally it crashes to the floor, breaking the TV. Moments such as this epitomise the subtle ways in which Scorsese foreshadows the destruction that is to come; the TV seems a fitting representation of both his precarious mental state and the self destructive compulsion central to his character.
When we finally reach the climax, Scorsese does not disappoint, putting together one of the most uncompromisingly grim sequences in cinema history. Travis tears through what becomes a blood-soaked brothel with deranged determination; we see a man possessed, feeling the visceral intensity of every gunshot. When the dust settles, Travis slumps onto a sofa, does the famous finger gun to the head and stares skyward; no words are needed. Scorsese cuts to a shot from above that looks down on the aftermath - as it quietly surveys the carnage with odd serenity - it seems to both lament and condemn what has happened.
Following this is the much debated ending, depicting a world where Travis has been hailed as a hero for what he did. Is it another manifestation of Scorsese's compassionate treatment of his main characters? An ironic flourish, hinting at Travis' continued mental instability? Who knows (I fall into the Travis' fantasy camp). Above all else though Taxi Driver works as a tale of social alienation - an unflinchingly brutal study of one man's search to connect with a world that seems completely foreign to him - the film expresses a profound loneliness that is universal. As Roger Ebert pointed out, it is the "well I'm the only one here." that follows the famous "Are you talkin' to me" that really cuts to the heart of Taxi Driver.
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