Taxi Driver Page #4

He lies on his mattress at the ceiling. He is fully clothed

and appears deep in thought.

Near his mattress rest several medications: A large bottle

of vitamin pills, two smaller bottles of pills, a bottle of

peach-flavored brandy.

TRAVIS (V.O.)

All my life needed was a sense of

direction, a sense of someplace to

go. I do not believe one should

devote his life to morbid self attention,

but should become a

person like other people.

ANOTHER DAY - LATE AFTERNOON

Travis' taxi is driving down Broadway with the "Off Duty"

sign on.

POV TRACKING SHOT down Broadway. CAMERA stops at Palantine

Campaign Headquarters. A few WORKERS remain in the office.

Betsy's desk is vacant.

FIFTH AVENUE - THE SAME AFTERNOON

CAMERA TRACKS with crowded mass of MANHATTANITES as they

ooze through the sidewalks toward their various destination.

Individuals are indiscernible: It is simply a congested mass.

TRAVIS (V.O.)

I first saw her at Palantine

Campaign Headquarters at 58th and

Broadway. She was wearing a yellow

dress, answering the phone at her

desk.

17.

Suddenly:
Cut of the congested human mass, IN SLOWING

MOTION, appears the slender figure of BETSY in a stylish

yellow dress. The crowd parts like the Red Sea, and there

she is:
Walking all alone, untouched by the crowd, suspended

in space and time.

TRAVIS (V.O.)(CONTD)

She appeared like an angel out of

this open sewer. Out of this filthy

mass. She is alone: They cannot

touch her.

INT. TRAVIS' APARTMENT

He is at the table, writing in his diary.

CLOSEUP - His stubby pencil rests on the word "her".

CUT TO:

It is 3:
30 IN THE MORNING in a bacon-shaped all night WEST

SIDE REATAURANT. The thick smell hangs in the air - fried

grease, smoke, sweat, regurgitated wine.

Whatever doesn't flush away in New York at night turns up in

places like this. A burly grease-stained COOK stands over

the grill. A JUNKIE shuffles from one side of the door to

another. Slouched over the small four-person formica tables

are several WELL-DRESSED BLACKS (too well-dressed for this

time and place), a cluster of STREET PEOPLE and a lost OLD

COOT who hangs onto his cup of coffee as if it were his last

possession.

The restaurant, brightly lit, perfectly conveys the image

urban plasticity - without the slightest hint of an

accompanying cleanliness.

Toward the rear of the restaurant sit three cabbies: WIZARD,

a worn man about fifty, DOUGH-BOY, younger family man,

CHARLIE T., fourtyish Black.

Wizard is telling Dough-Boy a story. Charlie T., his elbows

popped against table top, is not listening. He stares

silently down at a plate of cold scrambled eggs and a Racing

Forum. His eyes may not be open.

WIZARD:

First she did her make-up. You

know, I hate it when they do that.

I mean she does the whole works,

the mascara, the eye-shadow, the

lipstick, the rouge...

18.

DOUGH-BOY

Not rouge. Blush-On, they call it.

WIZARD:

The kind with a brush.

Travis appears at the door. He has to push aside the JUNKIES

to enter without making physical contact - something Travis

would not relish. He may be repulsed with these people and

this place, but he is too much a part of this to let his

feelings rise to the surface.

Wizard gives Travis a perfunctory wave.

WIZARD:

Travis.

TRAVIS:

Hey Wizard.

Travis straddles a seat at the table. Dough-Boy gives Travis

something between a wink and an eye-twitch saying:

DOUGH-BOY

Yeah, that's Blush-On. My wife uses

it,

WIZARD:

(ironic)

Ask Travis. He's the ladies man.

Travis shrugs and motions for a cup of coffee.

WIZARD:

(continuing)

Well, whatever the f*** it is, she

used it. And then the spray perfume.

You know, the real sweat kind -

and, on top of that, get this,

right when we're crossing the Triboro

bridge - she changes her

pantyhose!

DOUGH-BOY

No.

Travis turns his head. He appears not to be interested, but

is.

WIZARD:

Yeah.

DOUGH-BOY

Could you see anything?

19.

WIZARD:

Well, she was trying to keep her

skirt down, sort of, you know. But

it was pretty obvious what she was

doing. I mean, Christ, it was rush

hour and the traffic's practically

standing still.

DOUGH-BOY

What did you do?

WIZARD:

Threw on the emergency, jumped the

seat and f***ed her brains out -

What do you think!

(they laugh)

What do I have to do? Draw you a

picture?

DOUGH-BOY

Yeah.

WIZARD:

What was I supposed to do? I was

watching in the rear view. You

know, just checkin' traffic.

(to Travis)

So howsit?

TRAVIS:

(w/o inflection)

Some fleet driver for Bell just cut

up. Just heard it on the radio.

DOUGH-BOY

Stick up?

A WAITRESS brings Travis' coffee and a glass of water. He

asks for a cheeseburger.

WIZARD:

Sure. What do you think? She wanted

to get out of the cab. I said

"Look, you're in the middle of the

f***ing bridge..."

DOUGH-BOY

You said that?

WIZARD:

Well, I said, "Lady, please, we're

on a bridge..."

20.

DOUGH-BOY

And what happened?

Travis awaits Wizard's answer.

WIZARD:

She stayed in the cab, what's she

gonna do? but she stiffed me. A

real skunk.

DOUGH-BOY

A real skunk.

Wizard realizes Travis and Dough-Boy may not have met.

WIZARD:

(paternal)

Travis, you know Dough-Boy, Charlie

T.?

Charlie T. nods sleepily. Travis indicates he knows Dough-Boy.

DOUGH-BOY

Yeah. We went to Harvard together.

(laughs)

WIZARD:

We call him Dough-Boy cause he

likes the dollars. He'll chase a

buck straight into Jersey.

DOUGH-BOY

Look who's talking?

(gestures around table)

Who else would stay up all night to

catch the morning rush hour?

Travis sips his coffee. Charlie T.'s eyelids slip shut.

WIZARD:

(to Travis)

So howsit?

TRAVIS:

(w/o inflection)

Some fleet driver for Bell just got

cut up. Just heard it on the radio.

DOUGH-BOY

Stick up?

21.

TRAVIS:

No, just some crazy f***er. Cut

have his ear off.

DOUGH-BOY

Where.

TRAVIS:

In the jungle. 122nd.

Travis' eyes turn toward the restaurant's other patrons.

POV:
THREE STREET PEOPLE sitting at a table. One GUY,

stoned, stares straight ahead. A raggedly attractive GIRL

rest her head on the shoulder of the other, a heavily

bearded YOUNG MAN with a headband. They kiss and tease each

other, momentarily lost in their separate world.

Travis watches the hippie couple closely, his feeling

sharply divided between cultural contempt and morose jealousy.

Why should these people enjoy the love and intimacy that has

always eluded him? He must enjoy these schizoid emotions,

because his eyes dwell on the couple.

DOUGH-BOY

(changing the subject)

You run all over town, don't you,

Travis?

WIZARD:

(referring to 122nd St.)

F***in' Mau Mau land, that's what

it is.

Travis turns back to his companions.

TRAVIS:

Huh?

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