- —四川最大高校综合门户网
Niki Wurster Mao Guangqin 2 1 2000-01-23T12:51:00Z 2000-01-23T12:51:00Z 24 10319 58820 Pumpkin Software 490 117 72235 9.2504 1 21 0 0 Taxi Driver Screenplay by PaulSchrader Produced by Michael Phillips JuliaPhillips Directed by
Betsy's conversation interrupts Travis' VOICE
OVER.
BETSY
We've signed up 15.000 Palantine volunteers in New
York so far. The organizational problems are becoming just staggering.
TRAVIS
I know what you mean. I've got the same problems. I
just can't get things organized. Little things, I mean. Like my room, my
possessions. I should get one of those signs that says, "One of these days
I'm Gonna Organezizied".
Travis contorts his mouth to match his mispronunciation, than breaks into a big, friendly, infectious grin. The very sight of it makes one's heart proud.
Betsy cannot help but be caught up in Travis' gin. Travis' contagious, quicksilver moods cause her to say:
BETSY
(laughing)
Travis, I never ever met anybody like you before.
TRAVIS
I can believe that.
BETSY
Where do you live?
TRAVIS
(evasive)
Oh, uptown. You know. Some joint. It ain't much.
BETSY
So why did you decide to drive a taxi at night.
TRAVIS
I had a regular job for a while, days. You know, doin'
this, doin' that. But I didn't have anything to do at night. I got kinda
lonely, you know, just wandering around. So I decided to works nights. It ain't
good to be alone, you know.
BETSY
After this job, I'm looking forward to being alone for
a while.
TRAVIS
Yeah, well...
(a beat)
In a cab you get to meet people. You meet lotsa
people. It's good for you.
BETSY
What kind of people?
TRAVIS
Just people people, you know. Just people.
(a beat)
Had a dead man once.
BETSY
Really?
TRAVIS
He'd been shot. I didn't know that. He just crawled
into the back seat, said "West 45th Street" and conked out.
BETSY
What did you do?
TRAVIS
I shot the meter off, for one thing. I knew I wasn't
goimg to get paid. Then I dropped him off at the cop shop. They took him.
BETSY
That's really something.
TRAVIS
Oh, you see lots of freaky stuff in a cab. Especially
when the moon's out.
BETSY
The moon?
TRAVIS
The full moon. One night I had three or four weirdoes
in a row and I looked up and, sure enough, there it was – the full moon.
Betsy laughs. Travis continues:
TRAVIS
Oh, yeah. People will do anything in front of a taxi
driver. I mean anything. People too cheap to rent a hotel room, people scoring
dope, people shooting up, people who want to embarrass you.
(a bitterness emerges)
It's like you're not even there, not even a person.
Nobody knows you.
Betsy cuts Travis' bitterness short:
BETSY
Com'on, Travis. It's not that bad. I take lots of
taxis.
TRAVIS
I know. I could have picked you up.
BETSY
Huh?
TRAVIS
Late one night. About three. At the plaza.
BETSY
Three in the morning? I don't think so. I have to go
to bed early. I work days. It must have been somebody else.
TRAVIS
No. It was you. You had some manila folders and a pink
bag from Saks.
Betsy, realizing Travis remembers her precisely, scrambles for a polite rationale for her behavior:
BETSY
You're right! Now I remember! It was after the Western
regional planners were in town and the meeting went late. The next day I was
completely bushed. It was unbelievable.
TRAVIS
If it wasn't for a drunk I would have picked you up.
He wanted to go to the DMZ.
BETSY
The DMZ?
TRAVIS
South Bronx. The worst. I tried to ditch him, but he
was already in the cab, so I had to take him. That's the law. Otherwise I would
have picked you up.
BETSY
That would have been quite a coincidence.
TRAVIS
You'd be surprised how often you see the same people,
get the same fare. People have patterns. They do more or less the same things
every day. I can tell.
BETSY
Well, I don't go to the Plaza every night.
TRAVIS
I didn't mean you. But just ordinary people. A guy I
know – Dough-Boy – met his wife that way. They got to talking. She said she
usually caught the bus so he started picking her up at the bus stop, taking her
home with the flag up.
BETSY
That's very romantic. Some of your fares must be
interesting. See any stars, politicians, deliver any babies yet?
TRAVIS
Well, no... not really... had some famous people in
the cab.
(remembering)
I got this guy who makes lasers. Not regular lasers,
not the big kind. Little lasers, pocket sized, small enough to clip your belt
like a transistor radio, like a gun, you know. Like a ray gun. Zap.
BETSY
(laughs)
What hours do you work?
TRAVIS
I work a single, which means there's no replacement –
no second man on the cab. Six to six, sometimes eight. Seventy-two hours a
week.
BETSY
(amazed)
You mean you work seventy-two hours a week.
TRAVIS
Sometimes 76 or 80. Sometimes I squeeze a few more
hours in the morning. Eighty miles a day, a hundred miles a night.
BETSY
You must be rich.
TRAVIS
(big affectionate smile)
it keeps ya busy.
BETSY
You know what you remind me of?
TRAVIS
What?
BETSY
That song by Kris Kristofferson, where it's said
"Like a pusher, party truth, partly ficition, a walking
contradiction".
(smiles)
TRAVIS
I'm no pusher, Betsy. Honest. I never have pushed.
TRAVIS
I didn't mean that, Travis. Just the part about the
contradiction.
TRAVIS
(more at ease)
Oh. Who was that again?
BETSY
The singer?
TRAVIS
Yeah. Yes. I don't follow music too much.
BETSY
(slowly)
Kris Kristofferson.
Travis looks at Betsy intently and they exchange smiles.
CUT TO:
INCIDENT IN A RECORD SHOP
Travis is walking confusedly around SAM
GOODY'S at MIDDAY, obviously unable to locate what he desires.
Travis is lost among the hip, young intellectual type that populate the store. He watches the stylish, attractive female help, unable to come right out and requests what he desires.
A young SALESGIRL sees his plight, walks over and asks if he needs any help. Travis INAUDIBLY says a name to her, although the name is obviously
Kris Kristofferson.
The Salesgirl digs out Kristofferson's "Silver-Tongued Devil" album for him.
Travis says something additional to the Salesgirl and she goes off to gift-wrap the album.
Travis emerges from the RECORD STORE, the brightly gift-wrapped album proudly
tucked under his arm.
CUT TO:
A NIGHT BEHIND THE WHEEL
A lengthy POV SHOT from Travis' vantage point behind the wheel.
We see the city as Travis sees it. The front windshield is a little
dirty, the lighted meter just up at the low right screen. The intercom crackles
with STATIC
and MESSAGES.
The light turns green; we take off with a start. A short first gear
– quick shift – a long second gear. The cab eases to the right of the street,
checking out prospective fares.
Our eyes scan the long lines of PEDESTRIANS. The regular – bums, junkies, tourists,
hookers, homosexuals, hippies – they mean nothing now. They only blend into the
sidewalks and lighted storefronts.
Our eyes now concentrate on those that step away from the curb – is that man hailing a cab or scratching his head?
In the next block there are perhaps three, four fares – quick gas-up
through this yellow light – brake sharply – check the action. The first:
Tourist, nickel tipper – let the next guy pick them up. Let the second go also,
the third – there's a live fare. Middle-aged LOCAL
WOMAN: Short fare to the East Side, good
tip.
We pull to the curb, waiting for her to get in. It is a long wait –
a Black STREET WALKER crosses in front of the cab. We focus on (as Travis would) a YOUNG
COUPLE embracing in the distance.
As we travel, we hear Travis' random thoughts about selecting fares and tips:
TRAVIS (V.O.)
You work at night, you get an instinct. You can smell
them. The big tippers, the stiffs, the trouble makers. Quarter is good tip for
Manhattan. Queens is better, Brooklyn is best. go for the guys with suitcases.
The rich are the worst tippers, hooks are lousy. Spooks are okay, but they
don't live at Park Ave after all.
The meter is activated: $.60 registers. Tick, tick, tick. A quick glance shows the woman is now seated. She says softly, "192 East 89". We take off with another jolt. Cross back up 9th Ave, then cut through the park.
We're zooming up 9th Ave – how many green lights can we string together? Somebody steps out to hail the cab, but quickly steps back again. The meter is up $.90. It'll be a $1.40 fare.
Now through the park and we're almost there. Check the numbers – 134 – 140. End of the block. Fare=$1.40.
Check back mirror – she's getting out two bills. Two quarters and a dime change. Tip'll be either.25 or .35.
The tip comes back: 35 cents – good tip. Good lady. We take off again with a jolt.
This is Travis' world: Dark side streets, garish glaring main streets, quick glances, quicker evaluations – a dozen instantaneous decisions a minute. Are these people, are these objects?
EXT. TRAVIS' TAXI
Speeding down darkened street.
Travis lets off a fare and pulls into line at the Plaza.
TRAVIS (V.O.)
I called Betsy again at her office, and she said maybe
we could go to a movie together after she gets off work tomorrow. That's my day
off. At first she hesitated, but I called her again and she agreed.
(pause)
Betsy. Betsy what? I forgot to ask her last name
again. Damn. I've got to remember stuff like that.
Travis' thoughts are with Betsy, as THREE
MEN enter Travis' cab. He activates the
meter and pulls off.
MAN'S VOICE
St. Regis Hotel.
Travis checks the mirror. Scanning across the back seat, he
recognizes the middle passenger. It is CHARLES
PALANTINE, candidate for President. He
must have left the Hotel shortly after Betsy.
Tom, seated on the jump seat, checks his watch and speaks deferentially to Palantine:
TOM
It's 12:30 now. You'll have fifteen minutes before the
actual luncheon begins.
Palantine nods as his assistant picks up the thread of an earlier conversation.
PALANTINE ASSISTANT
I don't think we have to worry about anybody until
things start coming in from California.
Travis recognizes his passenger. He puts out his cigarette.
TRAVIS
(interrupting)
Say, aren't you Charles Palantine, the candidate?
PALANTINE
(only mildly irritated)
Yes I am.
TRAVIS
Well, I'm one of your biggest supporters. I tell
everybody that comes in this cab that they should vote for you.
PALANTINE
(pleased; glances to check Travis' license)
Why, thank you Travis.
TRAVIS
I'm sure you'll win, sir. Everybody I know is going to
vote for you.
(a beat)
I was going to put one of your stickers on my taxi but
the company said it was against their policy.
PALANTINE
(pleasant)
I'll tell you, Travis, I've learned more about this
country sitting in taxi cabs than in the board room of General Motors.
TOM
(joking)
And in some other places too...
Palantine, his Assistant and Tom all laugh. Palantine, quickly reassuming candiorial mien, speaks to Travis:
PALANTINE
Travis, what single thing would you want the next
President of this country to do most?
TRAVIS
I don't know, sir. I don't follow political issues
much.
PALANTINE
There must be something...
TRAVIS
(thinks)
Well, he should clean up this city here. It's full of
filth and scum. Scum and filth. It's like an open sewer. I can hardly take it.
Some days I go out and smell it then I get headaches that just stay and never
go away. We need a President that would clean up this whole mess. Flush it out.
Palantine is not a Hubert Humphrey-type professional bullshitter, and Travis' intense reply stops him dead in his tracks. He is forced to fall back on a stock answer but e tries to give it some meaning.
PALANTINE
(after a pause)
I know what you mean, Travis, and it's not going to be
easy. We're going to have to make some radical changes.
TRAVIS
(turning the wheel)
Damn straight.
EXT. BARCLAY HOTEL
Travis' taxi pulls up in front of the Barclay Hotel.
Palantine and Aide get out of the cab. Second Aide stays in back seat a moment to pay Travis.
Palantine looks in front window of cab momentarily and nods goodbye to Travis.
PALANTINE
Nice talking to you, Travis.
TRAVIS
(calling back)
Thank you, sir. You're a good man, sir.
Travis' taxi departs.
Palantine and Aides walk up carpet to the St. Regis.
CAMERA CLOSES IN on Palantine as he stops, turns back and watches Travis' departing
taxi.
Palantine turns back and ascends the hotel steps with his Aides.
DATE NIGHT
EXT. MANHATTAN STREET – EARLY MORNING
Travis, dressed to the teeth, walks brightly down the sidewalk. His face is frehsly shaved, his hair combed, his tie straightened.
He pauses in a store window to check his appearance.
Under his arm he carries the gift-wrapped Kristofferson record album.
OUTSIDE PALANTINE HEADQUARTERS
Betsy, smartly dressed, waves goodbye to another CAMPAIGN WORKER and walks out the door to greet him.
A SHORT WHILE LATER, Travis and Betsy are walking down Broadway
toward Times Square. Betsy does not let their bodies touch as they walk
although Travis contemplates edging closer to her.
Betsy has opened the package and is admiring the record – or, rather, Travis' sentiment behind giving it.
Travis looks around himself with pride: This is a moment in his life – one of the few.
You didn't have to spend your money – ?
TRAVIS
(interrupting)
He'll, what else can I do with it all?
Betsy notices that the seal on the record has not been broken.
BETSY
Travis, you haven't even played the record?
