Taxi Driver Page #18

IRIS:

Pittsburgh.

TRAVIS:

I ain't ever been there, but it

don't seem like such a bad place.

IRIS:

(voice rising)

Why do you want me to go back to my

parents? They hate me. Why do you

think I split? There ain't nothin

there.

TRAVIS:

But you can't live like this. It's

hell. Girls should live at home.

IRIS:

(playfully)

Didn't you ever hear of women's lib?

There is a short, quick silence; TRAVIS' eyes retract. He

goes on:

91.

TRAVIS:

(ignoring her question)

Young girls are supposed to dress

up, go to school, play with boys,

you know, that kinda stuff.

Iris places a large gob of jam on her unbuttered toast and

folds the bread over like a hotdog.

IRIS:

God, you are square.

TRAVIS:

(releasing pent-up tension)

At least I don't walk the streets

like a skunk p*ssy. I don't screw

and f*** with killers and junkies.

IRIS motions him to lower his voice.

IRIS:

Who's a killer?

TRAVIS:

That fella "Sport" looks like a

killer to me.

IRIS:

He never killed nobody. He's a

Libra.

TRAVIS:

Huh?

IRIS:

I'm a Libra too. That's why we get

along so well.

TRAVIS:

He looks like a killer.

IRIS:

I think Cancer's make the best

lovers. My whole family are air

signs.

TRAVIS:

He shoots dope too.

IRIS:

What makes you so high and mighty?

Did you ever look at your own

eyeballs in a mirror. You don't

get eyes like that from...

92.

TRAVIS:

He's worse than an animal. Jail's

too good for scum like that.

There is a brief silence. Iris mind continued to whirl at

78 rpms. She seems to have three subjects on her mind at a

time. She welcomes this opportunity to unburden herself.

IRIS:

Rock music died in 1970, that's

what I think. Before that it was

fantastic. I can tell you that.

Everybody was crashing, hanging out

at the Fillmore. Me and my

girlfriend Ann used to go up the

fire escape, you know? It was

unbelievable. Rock Stars everywhere.

That Airplane--that's my group, man.

All Libras. But now everybody's

split or got sick or busted. I

think I'll move to one of those

communes in Vermont, you know?

That's where all the smart ones

went. I stayed here.

TRAVIS:

I never been to a commune. I don't

know. I saw pictures in a magazine,

and it didn't look very clean to me.

IRIS:

Why don't you come to a commune

with me?

TRAVIS:

Me? I could never go to a place

like that.

IRIS:

Why not?

TRAVIS:

(hesitant)

I... I don't get along with people

like that.

IRIS:

You a scorpion? That's it. You're

a scorpion. I can tell.

TRAVIS:

Besides, I've got to stay here.

93.

IRIS:

Why?

TRAVIS:

I've got something important to do.

I can't leave.

IRIS:

What's so important?

TRAVIS:

I can't say -- it's top secret.

I'm doing something for the Army.

The cab thing is just part time.

IRIS:

You a narc?

TRAVIS:

Do I look like a narc?

IRIS:

Yeah.

TRAVIS breaks out in his big infectious grin, and IRIS joins

his laughter.

IRIS:

God, I don't know who's weirder,

you or me.

TRAVIS:

(pause)

What are you going to do about

Sport and that old bastard?

IRIS:

Just leave'em. There's plenty of

other girls.

TRAVIS:

You just gonna leave 'em?

IRIS:

(astonished)

What should I do? Call the cops?

TRAVIS:

Cops don't do nothin.

IRIS:

Sport never treated me bad, honest.

Never beat me up once.

94.

TRAVIS:

You can't leave 'em to do the same

to other girls. You should get rid

of them.

IRIS:

How?

TRAVIS:

(shrugs)

I don't know. Just should, though.

(a beat)

Somebody should kill 'em. Nobody'd

miss 'em.

IRIS:

(taken back)

God. I know where they should have

a commune for you. They should

have a commune for you at Bellevue.

TRAVIS:

(apologetic/sheepish)

I'm sorry, Iris. I didn't mean that.

IRIS:

You're not much with girls, are you?

TRAVIS:

(thinks)

Well, Iris, I look at it this way.

A lot of girls come into my cab,

some of them very beautiful. And I

figure all day long men have been

after them:
trying to touch them,

talk to them, ask them out. And

they hate it. So I figure the best

I can do for them is not bother

them at all. So I don't say a

thing. I pretend I'm not even

there. I figure they'll understand

that and appreciate me for it.

It takes IRIS a moment to digest this pure example of

negative thinking: I am loved to the extent I do not exist.

IRIS:

Do you really think I should go to

the commune?

95.

TRAVIS:

I think you should go home, but

otherwise I think you should go.

It would be great for you. You

have to get away from here. The

city's a sewer, you gotta get out

of it.

Mumbling something about her "shades" again, Iris fishes

through her bag until she comes up with another 99?pair of

sunglasses and puts them on. She likes these better, she

decides.

IRIS:

Sure you don't want to come with me?

TRAVIS:

I can't. Otherwise, I would.

IRIS:

I sure hate to go alone...

TRAVIS:

I'll give you the money to go. I

don't want you to take any from

those guys.

IRIS:

You don't have to.

TRAVIS:

I want to -- what else can I do

with my money?

(thinks)

You may not see me again--for a

while.

IRIS:

What do you mean?

CLOSE on C.U. of TRAVIS:

TRAVIS:

My work may take me out of New York.

CUT TO:

IRIS' ROOM - DAY

Sport stands beside the bed.

SPORT:

What's the matter, baby, don't you

feel right?

96.

Iris is wearing her blue-tinted shades.

IRIS:

It's my stomach. I got the flu.

Sport puts his hand on her hips. He is slowly, carefully,

smoothly manipulating her. It's the stone black hustle.

SPORT:

Oh, baby, there ain't no flu. You

know that, baby.

IRIS:

Honest, Sport.

Sport puts some slow soul music on the stereo.

SPORT:

You're just tired, baby. You just

need your man. I am your man, you

know. You are my woman. I wouldn't

be nothing without you.

Sport slowly grinds his hips to hers. Iris starts to move

with him. This is what she really wanted. Her man's

attention.

SPORT:

I know this may not mean anything

to you, baby, but sometimes I get

so emotional, sometimes I think, I

wish every man could have what I

have now, that every woman could be

loved the way I love you. I go

home and I think what it would be

without you, and then I thank God

for you. I think to myself, man,

you are so lucky. You got a woman

who loves you, who needs you, a

woman who keeps you strong. It's

just you and me. I'm nothing

without you. I can go like this

for ever and ever. We can do it,

baby. You and me. Just you and me.

Sport slowly rubs his crotch into her. Iris smiles. She is

happy. The music rises.

CUT TO:

FIRING RANGE - DAY

TRAVIS stands at the firing range blasting the .44 Magnum

with a rapid-fire vengeance.

97.

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