Taxi Driver Page #21

OLD MAN's mouth.

THE OLD MAN's voice is full of pain and ghastly fright:

OLD MAN:

Don't kill me! Don't kill me!

IRIS screams in b.g. TRAVIS looks up:

IRIS:

Don't kill him, Travis! Don't kill

him!

TRAVIS fires the revolver, blowing the back of THE OLD MAN's

head off the silencing his protests.

The police SIRENS screech to a halt. SOUND of police

officers running up the stairs.

106.

TRAVIS struggles up and collapses on the red velvet sofa,

his blood-soaked body blending with the velvet.

IRIS retreats in fright against the far wall.

First uniformed POLICE OFFICER rushes in room, drawn gun in

hand. Other POLICEMEN can be heard running up the stairs.

TRAVIS looks helplessly up at the OFFICER. He forms his

bloody hand into a pistol, raises it to his forehead and,

his voice croaking in pain, makes the sound of a pistol

discharging.

TRAVIS:

Pgghew! Pgghew!

Out of breath fellow OFFICERS join the first POLICEMAN.

They survey the room.

TRAVIS' head slumps against the sofa.

IRIS is huddled in the corner, shaking.

LIVE SOUND CEASES.

OVERHEAD SLOW MOTION TRACKING SHOT surveys the damage:

-- from IRIS shaking against the blood-spattered wall

-- to TRAVIS blood-soaked body lying on the sofa

-- to THE OLD MAN with half a head, a bloody stump for one

hand and a knife sticking out the other

-- to POLICE OFFICERS staring in amazement

-- to the PRIVATE COP's bullet-ridden face trapped near the

doorway

-- to puddles of blood and a lonely .44 Magnum lying on the

hallway carpet.

-- down the blood-specked stairs on which lies a nickleplated

.38 Smith and Wesson Special

-- to the foot of the stairs where SPORT's body is hunched

over a pool of blood and a small .32 lies near his hand

-- to CROWDS huddled around the doorway, held back by POLICE

OFFICERS:

-- past red flashing lights, running POLICEMEN and parked

police cars

107.

-- to the ongoing nightlife of the Lower East Side, curious

but basically unconcerned, looking then heading its own

way.

FADE TO:

FADE IN:

EXT. TRAVIS' APARTMENT - DAY

It is EARLY FALL. The trees are losing their leaves.

CUT TO:

SLOW TRACKING SHOT across INT. APARTMENT. Room appears

pretty much the same, although there is a new portable TV

and an inexpensive easy chair.

VISUAL:
TRACK begins at table and works across the room to

the mattress.

We see these items:

-- On the table rests the diary, closed. A desk calendar

stands on the table: it is October.

-- Across the wall where the Palantine clippings once hung

there are now a series of new newspaper clippings. Right to

left, they read:

1. The first is a full back page from the N.Y. Daily News.

Headline reads:
"CABBIE BATTLES GANGSTERS." There are large

photos of police standing in IRIS' room after the slaughter,

and a picture of TRAVIS' cabbie mug shot.

2. Underneath there is a more discreet clipping without

photo from the N.Y. Times. Two-column headline reads:

"Cabbie Shootout, Three Dead."

3. A follow-up story from the News. Two-column photo shows

plain middle-aged couple sitting in middle-class living room.

Two-column headline reads: "Parents Express Shock, Gratitude."

4. A two-column Daily News story without photo. Headline

reads:
"Taxi-Driver Hero to Recover."

5. A one-column two-paragraph News story stuck on an obscure

page. Headline reads: "Cabbie Returns to Job."

-- At the end of the clippings, a letter is tacked to the

wall. It is a simple letter hand-written on plain white

paper. The handwriting makes a conscious effort to appear

neat and orderly. We recognize that it is the same letter

that is being read in voice over.

108.

-- When we finally arrive at the mattress, we find it is

barren. A pillow and blanket (new purchases) are folded at

the head of the mattress.

AUDIO:
THROUGHOUT THE TRACK, we hear the voice of a middleaged

uneducated man reading in voice over.

It is the voice of IRIS' FATHER and he is reading a letter

he sent to TRAVIS, and which TRAVIS has tacked to his wall.

IRIS' FATHER (V.O.)

Dear Mr. Bickle,

I can't say how happy Mrs. Steensma

and I were to hear that you are

well and recuperating. We tried to

visit you at the hospital when we

were in New York to pick up Iris,

but you were still in a coma.

There is no way we can repay you

for returning our Iris to us. We

thought we had lost her, but now

our lives are full again. Needless

to say, you are something of a hero

around this household.

I'm sure you want to know about

Iris. She is back in school and

working hard. The transition has

been very hard for her, as you can

well imagine, but we have taken

steps to see she never has cause to

run away again.

In conclusion, Mrs. Steensma and I

would like to again thank you from

the bottom of our hearts.

Unfortunately, we cannot afford to

come to New York again to thank you

in person, or we surely would. But

if you should ever come to

Pittsburgh, you would find yourself

a most welcome guest in our home.

Our deepest thanks,

Burt and Ivy Steensma

CUT TO:

EXT. PLAZA HOTEL - NIGHT

Four cabs stand in the waiting line in front of the hotel.

109.

Near the entrance, TRAVIS and WIZARD stand in the light

talking.

TRAVIS' hair is almost fully grown back to its normal length.

TRAVIS wears the same clothes -- cowboy boots, jeans,

western shirt, Army jacket -- but he isn't wearing a gun.

There is a thick scar on the left side of his neck.

Wizard is speaking.

WIZARD:

A private-owner wanted to swap

wheels. Now my tires were brand

new. "Give me a couple days," I says.

CHARLIE T. parks his cab in line and walks toward TRAVIS and

WIZARD.

CHARLIE T:

Howdy Wizard, Killer.

CHARLIE T. points his pistol/finger at TRAVIS, fires, says

"Pow" and laughs.

CHARLIE T (CONTD)

(casual joking)

Don't mess with the Killer.

TRAVIS:

(smiles)

Hey Charlie T.

WIZARD:

Howsit, Charlie?

(pause)

Hey Travis, I think you gota fare.

They all turn. P.O.V. of DOORMAN closing rear door of

TRAVIS' taxi.

TRAVIS:

Sh*t.

(runs off)

CHARLIE T:

Take it slow, Killer.

TRAVIS waves back to CHARLIE T. and WIZARD as he runs around

cab and jumps in the driver's seat.

TRAVIS' taxi pulls away.

C.U. TRAVIS at the wheel. A FEMALE VOICE says:

110.

FEMALE VOICE:

34 East 56th Street.

TRAVIS recognizes the voice. He looks in the rear-view

mirror:
It is BETSY.

TRAVIS says nothing: he heads toward 56th Street.

After a silence, BETSY speaks:

BETSY:

Hello, Travis.

TRAVIS:

Hello, Betsy.

There is an uneasy pause.

TRAVIS:

I see where Palantine got the

nomination.

BETSY:

Yes. It won't be long now.

Seventeen days.

TRAVIS:

Well, I hope he wins.

There is another pause.

BETSY:

(concerned)

How are you, Travis? I read about

you in the papers.

TRAVIS:

Oh, I got over that. It was

nothing, really. The papers always

blow these things up.

(a beat)

A little stiffness. That'll go

away. I just sleep more, that's all.

EXT.

TRAVIS' taxi pulls up to 34 East 56th Street.

TRAVIS:

Here we are.

BETSY digs in her purse.

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