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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
(evasive)
Yeah, well my stereo player is broke. But I'm sure the
record is OK.
BETSY
Your stereo broke? God, I could hardly stand that. I
live on music.
TRAVIS
I don't follow music much. I'd like to though.
(second thought)
Honest.
BETSY
(pointing to album)
So you haven't heard this record yet?
TRAVIS
No.
(sly smile)
I thought maybe you could play it for me on your
player.
Betsy's face backtracks a bit. Maybe she was wrong to go out with this fellow she doesn't know.
She makes a polite laugh.
LATER
Travis and Betsy are in TIMES SQUARE, turning the corner from Broadway to 42nd
Street. Travis carries the album under his arm.
They approach the garish
marquee of a large midtown porno theatre advertising "The Swedish Marriage
Manual". The box office is flanked on both sides by glass cages filled
with explicit publicity stills. Offending portions have been blocked out with
black tape.
Travis steps over to the window and buys two $5 tickets. Betsy, befuddled, watches him. She doesn't know what to say. Travis returns with the tickets.
Betsy still has not fully comprehended what is happening:
BETSY
What are you doing?
TRAVIS
(innocent)
I bought a couple of tickets.
BETSY
But this is a porno movie.
TRAVIS
No, these are the kind that couples go to. They're not
like the other movies. All kinds of couples go. Honest. I've seen them.
Travis seems confused. He is so much part of his own world, he fails to comprehend another's world. Compared to the movies he sees, this is respectable. But then there's also something that Travis could not even acknowledge, much less admit: That he really wants to get this pure white girl into that dark porno theatre.
Travis makes an awkward gesture to escort Betsy into the theatre. Betsy looks at the tickets, at the theatre, at Travis. She mentally shakes her head and walks toward the turnstile. She thinks to herself: "What the Hell. What can happen?" She's always been curious about these pictures anyway, and – like all women, no matter how intelligent – she's been raised not to offend her date. A perverse logic which applies even more in offsetting circumstances like these.
INSIDE THE THEATRE
Travis escorts Betsy to an empty center row. Travis was right.
Couples do go to films like this. There are at least six or seven other MEN with their bewigged "DATES".
Travis settles into his familiar porno theatre slouch. Betsy looks curiously from side to side.
ON SCREEN, a conservatively-dressed middle-aged woman
is speaking in Swedish about importance of healthy sex life in a happy
marriage. Subtitles translate her words. Then, without warning, there is a
direct CUT to a couple copulating on
a sterile table-like bed.
Travis watches intently. The color, however, is slowly draining from Betsy's cheeks. One thought fills her mind: "What am I doing here?"
TRAVIS
(to himself)
Damn.
BETSY
What's wrong?
TRAVIS
I forgot to get the Coca-Cola.
That does it. Betsy just looks at him for a moment, then gets up and starts to leave. Travis, confused, hustles after her.
He follows her out of the theatre.
ON THE SIDEWALK
Travis catches up with her.
TRAVIS
Where are you going?
BETSY
I'm leaving.
TRAVIS
What do you mean?
Betsy looks at Travis, trying to understand him:
BETSY
These are not the kind of movies I go to.
TRAVIS
Well, I don't follow movies too much...
BETSY
You mean these are the only kind of movies you go to?
The TICKET GIRL watches expressionlessly from the booth.
TRAVIS
This is sort of high class...
BETSY
I mean porno movies.
TRAVIS
(hesitant)
Well... mostly...
BETSY
My God!
TRAVIS
We can go to another movie if you like, I don't care.
I got money. There's plenty...
Travis gestures toward the long row of 42nd Street marquees, but is interrupted by Betsy:
BETSY
If you just wanted to fuck, why didn't you just come
right out and say it?
Travis is flabbergasted by Betsy's blunt language. His arm still gestures toward the marquees, his lips continue to move, but words do not come out.
Unable to respond to Betsy's question, Travis picks up where he left off:
TRAVIS
... there's plenty of movies around here. I haven't
seen any of them, but I'm sure they're good.
BETSY
No, Travis. You're a sweet guy and all that, but I
think this is it. I'm going home.
TRAVIS
(interrupting)
You mean you don't want to go to a movie?
(a beat)
There's plenty of movies around here.
BETSY
No, I don't feel so good. We're just two very
different kinds of people, that's all.
TRAVIS
(puzzled)
Huh?
BETSY
It's very simple. You go your way, I'll go mine.
Thanks anyway, Travis.
TRAVIS
But... Betsy...
BETSY
I'm getting a taxi.
She walks to the curb.
TRAVIS
(following her)
What about the record?
BETSY
Keep it.
TRAVIS
Can I call you?
Betsy looks for a cab.
TRAVIS
(tender)
Please, Betsy, I bought it for you.
Betsy looks at his sad, sweet face and relents a bit.
BETSY
All right, I'll accept the record.
Betsy accepts the record, but quickly turns and hails a taxi.
BETSY
Taxi!
A taxi quickly pulls up.
Travis feebly protests to no one in particular:
TRAVIS
But I got a taxi.
Betsy gives instructions to CAB DRIVER, looks briefly back at Travis, then
straight ahead. Taxi speeds off.
Travis looks around helplessly: A cluster of PEDESTRIANS on the crowded
street has stopped to watch the argument. Travis looks back at the woman in the
porno theatre box office who has also been following the argument.
CUT TO:
PHONE CALLS AND FLOWERS
INSIDE TRAVIS' APARTMENT
Travis is sitting at the table. There are some new items on the table: His giant econo-sized bottle of vitamins, a giant econo-sized bottle of aspirins, a pint of apricot brandy, a partial loaf of cheap white bread.
On the wall behind the table hang two more items: A gag sign reading "One of These Days I'm Gonna Get Organezizied" and an orange-and-black bumper sticker for Charles Palantine.
TRAVIS (V.O.)
May 8, 1972. My life has taken another turn again. The
days move along with regularity...
CLOSEUP of notebook: Travis is no longer sitting at the desk. The pencil
rests on the open notebook.
LATER THAT DAY
Travis has pulled his straight-backed chair around and is watching his small portable TV, which rests on the upright melon crate.
A cereal bowl partially filled with milk rests in his lap. Travis pours a couple shots of the apricot brandy into the bowl, dips folded chunks of white bread into the mixture, and eats them.
Travis is watching early evening NEWS
PROGRAM. TV background SOUND. Charles Palantine is being interviewed
somewhere on the campaign trail.
TRAVIS (V.O.)
... one day indistinguishable from the next, a long
continuous chain, then suddenly – there is a change.
Betsy is walking down a midtown street when Travis suddenly appears before her. He has been waiting.
Travis tries to make conversation but she doesn't listen. She motions for him to go away and keeps on walking.
Travis, protesting, follows.
CUT TO:
INT. BUILDING – DAY
Travis speaks intensely into a wall pay phone.
TRAVIS (V.O.)
I tried to call her several times.
We hear Travis' Voice on the phone.
TRAVIS
(smoking a cigarette)
you feeling better? You said you didn't feel so
good...
TRAVIS (V.O.)
But after the first call, she would no longer come to
the phone.
Travis holds the receiver in his hand. The other party has hung up.
TRACKING SHOT across interior lower wall of TRAVIS'
APARTMENT. Against the stark wall there
is a row of wilted and dying floral arrangements. Each one of the four or five
bouquets is progressively more wilted than the one closer to the door. They
have been returned.
TRAVIS (V.O.)
I also sent flowers with no luck. I should not dwell
on such things, but set them behind me. The smell of the flowers only made me
sicker. The headaches got worse I think I've got stomach cancer. I should not
complain so. "You're only as healthy as you feel."
INT. PALANTINE HEADQUARTERS
A drama is acted out at PALANTINE
HEADQUARTERS: Travis, groggy and red-eyed
from lack of sleep, walks into the campaign headquarters about NOONTIME.
Betsy is standing near the rear of the office; she ducks from sight when she sees Travis enter. Travis' path is cut short by Tom's large-framed body. There is no live sound.
TRAVIS (V.O.)
I realize now how much she is like the others, so cold
and distant. Many people are like that. They're like a union.
Travis tries to push his way past Tom but Tom grabs him. Travis says something sharply to Tom and the two scuffle. Tom, by far the taller and stronger, quickly overcomes Travis, wrenching his arm behind his back.
Travis kicks and protests as Tom leads him to the front door.
ON THE SIDEWALK
Travis' efforts quickly subside when Tom motions to a nearby POLICEMAN. Travis quiets down
and walks off.
CUT TO:
THE PUSSY AND THE .44
EXT. STREETS
Travis is again making his way through the garish urban night. He
stops for a PASSENGER on Park Ave. A middle-aging professorial executive.
CLOSEUP TRAVIS – His face is expressionless. The man makes himself comfortable in the
back seat.
PROFESSIONAL PASSENGER
Jackson Heights.
Travis has no intention of driving out to Jackson Heights and coming back with a fare.
TRAVIS
I'm off duty.
PROFESSIONAL PASSENGER
You mean you don't want to go out to Jackson Heights?
TRAVIS
No, I'm off duty.
PROFESSIONAL PASSENGER
Then how come your "Off Duty" light wasn't
on.
Travis switches on the "Off Duty" light.
TRAVIS
It was on.
(gesturing toward top of taxi)
it just takes a while to warm up. Like a TV.
Travis doesn't budge. Professional Passenger curses to himself and exits cab. Travis takes off.
POV as Travis' eyes dwell on the young HIP
COUPLES coming out of a East Side movie
house.
LATER THAT NIGHT
Travis pulls over for a young (mid-twenties) MAN wearing a leather sports
jacket.
Travis eyes his passenger in rear-view mirror.
YOUNG PASSENGER
471 Central Park West.
EXT. STREETS
Travis' taxi speeds off.
LATER
Travis' taxi slows down as it approaches 400 block of Central Park West.
Travis checks apartment numbers.
YOUNG PASSENGER
Just pull over to the curb a moment.
Travis turns the wheel.
YOUNG PASSENGER
Yeah, that's fine. Just sit here.
Travis waits impassively. The motor ticks away.
After a long pause, the passenger speaks:
YOUNG PASSENGER
Cabbie, ya see that light up there on the seventh
floor, three windows from this side of the building?
CAMERA CLOSES IN on 417 Central Park West:
TRACKING UP to the seventh floor, it moves three windows to the right.
TRAVIS (V.O.)
Yeah.
A young WOMAN wearing a slip crosses in front of the light.
YOUNG PASSENGER (O.S.)
Ya see that woman there?
TRAVIS (O.S.)
Yeah.
YOUNG PASSENGER (O.S.)
That's my wife.
(a beat)
But it ain't my apartment.
(a beat)
A nigger lives there.
(a beat)
She left me two weeks ago. It took me this long to
find out where she went.
(a beat)
I'm gonna kill her.
CLOSEUP YOUNG PASSENGER'S FACE
It is gaunt, drained of blood, full of fear and anger.
Travis does not respond.
YOUNG PASSENGER
Huh?
(a beat)
What do you think of that, huh?
Travis shrugs, gesturing toward meter.
