If you haven't seen it yet, you're missing out on one of the most visceral experiences in film history. Honestly, when people say they want to watch A Taxi Driver, they usually think they’re in for a standard 1970s crime flick. They expect car chases or maybe a straightforward hero story. They’re wrong.
Martin Scorsese’s 1976 masterpiece isn't a "fun" movie. It’s a slow descent into the mind of a man who is completely, utterly isolated in a city of millions. Travis Bickle, played by Robert De Niro in what might be his most haunting role, is a Vietnam vet with insomnia who spends his nights driving through the "filth" of New York City. The neon lights, the steam coming off the grates, the rainy windshields—it all feels like a fever dream.
Paul Schrader wrote the script during a period of intense personal crisis. He was living in his car, basically drifting through the underbelly of Los Angeles, and that raw, genuine desperation bled onto every page. It shows.
The Real Reason People Still Watch A Taxi Driver Today
Movies from the 70s can sometimes feel dated. The clothes are weird, the pacing is slow, and the technology looks like it belongs in a museum. But this film? It feels like it was shot yesterday. The loneliness Travis feels is even more relevant now in our digital age than it was back then. We’re more connected, sure, but we’re just as isolated.
Travis is a "God's lonely man," a phrase Schrader borrowed from Thomas Wolfe. He tries to connect. He goes on a date with Betsy (Cybill Shepherd), but he’s so socially stunted he takes her to a porn theater. It’s painful to watch. You want to look away, but you can’t because De Niro’s performance is so magnetic.
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The film doesn't just show New York; it breathes it. This was the New York of the mid-70s—a city on the verge of bankruptcy, gritty, dangerous, and unapologetic. Scorsese didn't have to try hard to make it look bleak. It just was.
The Iconography of the Mohawk and the Mirror
Everyone knows the "You talkin' to me?" scene. Even if you’ve never seen the movie, you know the line. But did you know it was completely improvised? The script just said "Travis looks in the mirror," and De Niro took it from there.
That moment represents the exact point where Travis stops trying to live in the real world and starts living in the one he’s built in his head. He’s preparing for a war that only he can see. When he shaves his head into a Mohawk later in the film, it’s not a fashion choice. It’s a military tactic. It’s a transformation. He’s becoming the "rain" he thinks will wash the scum off the streets.
Understanding the Controversy and the Ending
When you watch A Taxi Driver, the ending is going to leave you feeling conflicted. It’s supposed to.
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The final shootout in the brothel is incredibly violent. It’s messy, loud, and disturbing. For years, people have debated whether the aftermath—where Travis is hailed as a hero—is actually happening or if it's just a dying hallucination. Scorsese has mostly stayed quiet on this, but the ambiguity is the whole point.
If it’s real, it’s a scathing critique of a society that can’t tell the difference between a psychopath and a savior. If it’s a dream, it’s a tragic look at a man who could only find peace in a fantasy of violence.
The Jodie Foster Factor
We have to talk about Iris. Jodie Foster was only 12 years old when she played a child prostitute. Think about that for a second. Today, that would cause a massive internet meltdown, but back then, it was seen as a bold, necessary creative choice.
Foster’s performance is incredible because she doesn't play Iris as a victim in the traditional sense. She’s just a kid trying to survive, and she’s arguably the most grounded person in the entire movie. She sees Travis for what he is: a weird guy who talks too much. Her sister, Connie Foster, had to stand in as a body double for some of the more suggestive scenes, and Jodie had to undergo psychological testing before she was allowed to take the role. It was a heavy production for everyone involved.
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Technical Mastery: Why the Visuals Stick With You
The cinematography by Michael Chapman is legendary. He used a lot of slow-motion and distorted shots to mimic Travis’s deteriorating mental state. And the music? Bernard Herrmann’s final score. He actually died just hours after finishing the recording sessions.
Instead of a typical thriller score, Herrmann gave us this haunting, jazzy saxophone melody that feels like it’s weeping. It contrasts perfectly with the harshness of the visuals.
- The Color Palette: Heavy reds and greens. It feels sickly.
- The Editing: The jump cuts when Travis is practicing with his guns create a sense of frantic energy.
- The Perspective: We rarely leave Travis’s side. We see what he sees, which makes us complicit in his worldview.
How to Watch A Taxi Driver and Actually Get It
If you’re going to sit down and watch this, don’t do it while you’re scrolling on your phone. It’s a movie that demands your full attention because so much of the story is told through silence and subtext.
Look at the way Travis looks at people. Look at the way the camera lingers on the "trash" he complains about.
Actionable Insights for Your First Viewing
- Context is King: Remember that this came out right after the Vietnam War ended. Veterans were coming home to a country that didn't know what to do with them. Travis’s PTSD isn't explicitly named, but it’s the engine driving the car.
- Pay Attention to the Supporting Cast: Harvey Keitel as "Sport," the pimp, is terrifying because he’s so charming. It shows how predators actually operate.
- The Cameo: Watch for Scorsese himself in the back of Travis’s cab. He plays a passenger who is watching his wife through a window, talking about what he’s going to do to her with a .44 Magnum. It’s one of the creepiest cameos in film history and sets the tone for the third act.
- Listen to the Score: Notice how the music changes when Travis is alone versus when he's with Betsy. It’s the sound of his shifting identity.
The film hasn't lost an ounce of its power. Whether you’re a film student or just someone looking for a movie that will actually make you think, you have to see this. It’s a masterclass in character study.
The next step is simple: find the highest quality version possible—preferably the 4K restoration—turn off the lights, and let the madness of 1970s New York City take over. After the credits roll, give yourself twenty minutes of silence just to process what you saw. You'll need it.