Taxi Driver Page #3

11.

The SOUND of the feature drones in the background.

CONCESSION GIRL:

Kin I help ya?

Travis rests his elbow on the counter, looking at the Girl.

He is obviously trying to be friendly - no easy task for him.

God knows he needs a friend.

TRAVIS:

What is your name? My name is Travis.

CONCESSION GIRL:

Awh, come off it, Pal.

TRAVIS:

No, I'm serious, really...

CONCESSION GIRL:

Ya want me to call da boss? Huh?

That what you want?

CONCESSION GIRL:

No, no, it's alright. I'll have a

big Coca-Cola - without ice - and a

large buttered popcorn, and...

(pointing)

... some of them chocolate covered

malted milk balls... and ju-jukes,

a box. They last.

CONCESSION GIRL:

We don't have ju-jukes. We don't

have Coca-Cola. We only got Royal

Crown Cola.

TRAVIS:

That's fine.

CONCESSION GIRL:

That's a dollar forty-seven.

Travis lays two dollar bills on the counter.

INT. THEATRE AUDITORIUM

Slight TIMECUT to Travis sitting in theatre, drinking his

Royal Crown Cola, eating his popcorn and milk balls. His

eyes are fixed on the screen. A MALE VOICE emanates from the

screen:

MALE MOVIE VOICE (O.S.)

Come here, b*tch. I'm gonna split

you in half.

12.

Male Voice yields to Travis' monotone narration.

TRAVIS (V.O.)

Twelve hours of work and I still

cannot sleep. The days dwindle on

forever and do not end.

FADE TO:

EXT. CHARLES PALANTINE CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS

The Headquarters of the "New Yorkers for Charles Palantine

for President Committee", located at the corner of 50th

Street and Broadway, are festooned in traditional red, white

and blue banners, ribbons and signs.

One large sign proclaims "Palantine". Another sign reads

"Register for New York Primary, July 20.". The smiling

middle-aged face of Charles Palantine keeps watch over the

bustling pedestrians.

It is LATE AFTERNOON.

INSIDE HEADQUARTERS

A variety of YOUNG WORKERS joke and chatter as they labor

through stacks of papers. The room is pierced with the sound

of ringing phones.

Seen from a distance - the only way Travis can see them -

those are America's chosen youth: Healthy, energetic, well groomed,

attractive, all recruited from the bucolic fields

of Massachusetts and Connecticut.

CAMERA FAVORS BETSY, about 25, an extremely attractive woman

sitting at the reception desk between two phones and several

stacks of papers. Her attractions, however, are more than

skin deep. Beneath that Cover Girl facial there is a keen,

though highly specialized sensibility: Her eyes scan every

man who passes her desk as her mind computes his

desirability:
Political, intellectual, sexual, emotional,

material. Simple pose and status do not impress her; she

seeks out the extraordinary qualities in men. She is, in

other words, star-f***er of the highest order.

Betsy, putting down the phone, calls TOM, a lanky, amiable

and modishly long-haired campaign workder over to her desk:

BETSY:

Tom.

Tom is pleasant and good-looking, but lacks those special

qualities which interest Betsy. He gets nowhere with Betsy -

yet he keeps trying.

13.

Just another of those routine office flirtations which pass

the hours and free the fantasies.

BETSY:

Tom, come here a moment.

(he walks over)

I think this canvas report is about

ready to go out. Check it out with

Andy, and if he okays if, have a

copy made for the campaign

headquarters in every county.

(a beat)

And don't forget to add the new

photo releases.

TOM:

The senator's white paper is almost

ready, Bets. Should we wait for that?

BETSY:

Andy usually just sends those to

the national media. The local press

doesn't know what to do with a

position paper until UPI and AP

tell them anyway.

TOM:

I think we should try to get

maximum coverage for this new

mandatory welfare program. Push the

issues.

BETSY:

(as if instructing a child)

First push the man, then the issue.

Senator Palantine is first of all a

dynamic man, an intelligent,

interesting, fascinating man.

TOM:

You forgot "sexy".

BETSY:

No, I didn't forget "sexy".

TOM:

Just didn't get around to it, huh?

BETSY:

Oh, Tom, please.

14.

TOM:

Well, for Christsakes, you sound

like you're selling... I don't know

what... cars... not issues.

BETSY:

Have you ever wondered why CBS News

has the highest ratings?

TOM:

More people watch it.

BETSY:

Alright, forget it if you're not

going to be serious,

TOM:

No, c'mon, I'm listening. I was

just...

BETSY:

Just what?

TOM:

Kidding around... you know, fun.

Betsy looks toward the street, then back at Tom.

BETSY:

Maybe if you'd try thinking once in

a while, you'd get somewhere.

TOM:

With who?

BETSY:

Alright, now. You want to know why

CBS has the highest ratings? You

their news is any different from

NBC, ABC? It's all the same news.

Same stories. Same order usually.

What, you thought they had good

news for people, right? You thought

that's why people watched CBS? I'll

tell you why people watch CBS.

Cronkite. The man. You got it? Not

the news, not the issues, the man.

If Walter Cronkite told people to

eat soap, they'd do it. We are

selling cars, goddamn it.

Betsy's attention is being distracted by something she sees

across the street. She puts on her glasses and looks out

across the street again.

15.

TOM:

Well, if Cronkite's so great, why

don't we run him instead?

BETSY:

That's the last. The finish. Period.

Some people can learn. Some people

can't. And you wonder why we never

get serious----

TOM:

Sure we could run him. You realize

he's already of his block

association.

BETSY:

(looks across street again)

Have you been noticing anything

strange?

TOM:

No, why?

BETSY:

Why's that taxi driver across the

street been staring at us?

TOM:

What taxi driver?

BETSY:

That taxi driver. The one that's

been sitting here.

TOM:

How long has he been there?

BETSY:

I don't know - but it feels like a

long time.

Travis' cold piercingly eyes Stare out from his cab parked

across the street from Palantine Headquarters. He is like a

lone wolf watching the warm campfires of civilization from a

distance. A thin red dot glows from his cigarette.

Tom exchanges Travis' gaze.

TOM:

(determined)

Well, I'll go out and ask him.

As Tom walks toward front door Betsy's eyes alternate

between him and the position where Travis sits.

16.

EXT. PALANTINE HEADQUARTERS

Tom strides out the front door and walks briskly across the

street toward Travis' taxi.

Travis spots Tom walking toward him and quickly stares up

his cab, then squeals off in a burst of billowing exhaust.

Tom watches the speeding taxi quizzically.

Travis' taxi continues down Broadway.

CUT TO:

INT. TRAVIS' APARTMENT

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