‹ Dragoman · Edition 21
Translated from Turkish · 8 June 2026
translated from Turkish

Taxi Driver at Fifty

The essay reads Taxi Driver as Scorsese’s visual poem of urban loneliness and modern alienation, tracing how Travis Bickle’s wounded spirituality turns the same rage toward treachery or heroism by the thinnest of social distinctions.

Kent Kalabalığında Bir İntikam Meleği
Birikim · N Buket Cengiz · 23 May 2026 · read the original in Turkish →

Taxi Driver arose, in large part, from my feeling that films are really a kind of being in a dream, or in a haze.

(Martin Scorsese, 54)(Martin Scorsese, 54)

Sorrow, too, has its own code. That is to say, dashing sorrows befit the rebellious expression taxi drivers carry on their faces. They harbor a secret and impoverished love. That is the reason for their roughness.

(Murathan Mungan, 41)(Murathan Mungan, 41)

A magnificent expression of urban loneliness and modern alienation; one of the greatest films of all time, Taxi Driver is fifty years old. Martin Scorsese’s 1976 film Taxi Driver opens with precisely that sensation of dreaming which the director describes in the quotation above. On a rainy night, the streets have become a play of light through the reflections of wetness; the colors are blurred and bleed into one another; the fluid melodies of the saxophone complete the slick texture of the streets. But, in the way only a dream can do, whose feeling we remember very well but can never put into words, that fleeting, calm, romantically flowing saxophone is suddenly interrupted by percussion announcing an approaching catastrophe. The moment an endless uncanniness settles at the very center of the atmosphere, we find ourselves once more in the saxophone’s tender arms. But within a few seconds the saxophone flies away again, and the percussion returns in all its gloom. These transitions are as rapid and sharp as they could only be felt within the dream’s peculiar conception of time.

The wet, gleaming streets we watch to the accompaniment of the music likewise turn, as they might in a dream, into signs wholly opposed to one another: the streets at night as a fleeting, calm, romantic atmosphere, and the streets at night as the site of an infinitely chilling uncanniness... Before the viewer has any chance to cool the feelings produced by this difficult ebb and flow, the camera focuses on the eyes of the film’s protagonist, Travis. Travis is watching the night attentively. The ebb and flow through which we have just passed is Travis’s mind.

******

The viewer, who as yet knows nothing about Travis’s (Robert De Niro) identity, begins watching the film with powerful knowledge of the character’s inner world. After the opening sequence, we see Travis applying for work as a taxi driver because he cannot sleep at night. He is already wandering outside at night on the subway and buses, he says; “might as well get paid for it.” We learn that he is twenty-six, that his schooling was “here and there,” and that he was discharged in 1973 from the army, where he served as a Marine; thus we understand that he has returned from Vietnam.

In the next scene, we see him returning home one morning; he takes a sip from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag and keeps walking, with an energetic air about him. The ground-floor apartment where he lives is a stifling interior. He sits down at his diary and begins to write. Throughout the film, we hear Travis’s inner voice through the sentences he writes in his diary.

In the first page we hear, the lines dated May 10, Travis thanks God “for the rain which has helped wash away the garbage and the trash off the sidewalks.” He writes in his diary that he works “from six in the evening to six in the morning, sometimes eight.” “Six days a week, sometimes seven.” But he is content with his lot; “it keeps me busy,” he says. He earns 300 to 350 dollars a week, sometimes even more. He continues:

“All the animals come out at night. Whores, skunk pussies, buggers, queens, fairies, dopers, junkies. Sick, venal. Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets.”

He has worked for twelve hours, yet still cannot sleep; finding nothing else to do, he goes, as he has done before, to a porno theater. He defines the course of his life as follows: “The days go on and on. They don’t end.”

Encountering an AngelBir Melekle Karşılaşma

It is on one of these interminable days that he meets Betsy (Cybill Shepherd). Betsy works at the campaign headquarters of presidential candidate Senator Charles Palantine. When Travis first sees her, Betsy is wearing a white dress; she looks “like an angel out of this filthy mess.” After going to and from the campaign headquarters several times, Travis gets Betsy to agree first to have coffee with him, then to go out one evening. But on the evening they go out, he takes Betsy to see an “adult film”: when they arrive at the theater, Betsy feels a suspicion but cannot be sure. A few minutes after the film begins, the situation becomes clear, and Betsy angrily leaves the theater. Travis runs after her and apologizes, but it is no use. In the days that follow, Travis’s apartment fills with bouquets he has sent to Betsy, returned because she would not accept them. The slowly wilting flowers become a heartbreaking image of Travis’s feelings; for, at the critical moment of rupture in his inner world, he will burn these withered flowers (though there is still time before that).

We cannot understand why Travis makes such an absurd mistake. Even if he wanted to watch an “adult film” together, how could he fail to think that he should propose this at a much later stage of the relationship, and within the privacy of the home? And yet he has gone to meet Betsy like a perfect gentleman, with a tie around his neck and a gift in his hand. When Travis, unable to get a response to his messages and calls, goes to the campaign headquarters in the hope of speaking face to face, and is roughly removed by Betsy’s colleague, he says: “She was like the rest of them, cold and distant. Many people are like that. Women for sure. They’re like a union.”

It would be facile to explain Travis’s condition, crushed as he is under sleeplessness, the feeling of having been left outside, inner distress, and a sense of emptiness, as post-traumatic stress disorder. Having been in Vietnam has of course wounded his soul. But at the center of Travis’s spiritual anguish lies not so much the traumatic effect of war as a feeling of alienation that began long before the war and was intensified by having been there. He is lonely, isolated, buried in his inner world; his social interactions are superficial; he has no one with whom he has formed a deep bond. But we understand from these words of his that this is not a condition that began after the war: “Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere... I am God’s lonely man.”

The Antihero on the Streets of New YorkNew York Sokaklarındaki Anti-kahraman

In the final paragraph of Dostoevsky’s tremendous 1864 work Notes from Underground, the word antihero is heard from the mouth of the novel’s main character, that is, from the antihero himself:

“Of course, there is nothing interesting in telling at length how I have wasted my whole life in a corner through moral corruption, how through malicious, empty pride I withdrew underground by severing every bond with the living world; besides, a novel must have a hero, whereas in mine all the traits that are the opposite of a hero have deliberately been gathered in an antihero.” (138)

Martin Scorsese, in fact, wanted to make a film about this character: Dostoevsky’s antihero. Paul Schrader, too, wrote the screenplay of Taxi Driver thinking that Brian De Palma would direct it. For a reason he did not specify, De Palma recommended the screenplay to Scorsese. Thinking that Taxi Driver was the screenplay that could come closest to the world of Notes from Underground, Scorsese decided to make the film (Scorsese, 53-62).

Both the screenwriter Schrader and the director Scorsese convey, with an admirable rhythm, Travis’s gradual transformation into an angel of vengeance: at first, he is trying, by methods of his own, to endure a serious insomnia problem (working nights, going to porno theaters open until morning, and so on); although he feels within himself a serious rage at the filth in society, he manages to keep it under control. Through Scorsese’s eyes, we see the New York in which this antihero lives. Scorsese shows that this alienation is an urban alienation. It is a form of alienation possible only within city life and valid for all cities:

“The entire film is based largely on the impressions I acquired from growing up in New York and living in the city. There is a scene in the film where the camera is mounted on the hood of the taxi and passes in front of a place on Broadway called ‘Fascination.’ The image of this angel of vengeance gliding through the city streets, the idea of fascination, represents all cities for me.” (Scorsese, 54) ***

On June 8, Travis writes in his diary: “The days go on and on. They are all the same. One long continuous chain... And then, suddenly, there is a change.”

This change is his purchase of two suitcases full of guns. Travis’s process of becoming an angel of vengeance has begun. The soldier inside him returns; every morning he does fifty push-ups and lifts weights fifty times; he stops taking pills (we have seen him swallow a pill at various moments before) and eating unhealthily. He begins target practice; meanwhile, one day while shopping, he shoots and kills a thief who attempts to rob the market (but the incident is covered up). In the days that follow, he tries to act like an older brother to Iris (Jodie Foster), a child prostitute whom he has encountered a few times before: he goes to her in the guise of a customer and talks to her; a few days later they meet in a cafe; he tries to persuade Iris to return to her family. But Iris is in love with Sport (Harvey Keitel), who pimps her, and has no intention of escaping the mire in which she lives.

Whom will Travis, the angel of vengeance, choose to kill? Feeling that he has cleansed the world, if only a little, of the wicked will probably soothe the emptiness inside him to some degree. But Travis does not decide to kill the wicked. The person he will kill is Senator Charles Palantine, Betsy’s idol. This decision is the nihilistic expression of the pain of love.

The Fine Line Between Heroism and TreacheryKahramanlık ve Hainlik Arasındaki İnce Çizgi

Travis cuts his hair into a Mohawk and prepares to kill Palantine as though for a ritual. But the bodyguards notice him. Travis cannot kill Palantine; he manages to flee home without being caught. That evening, he raids the brothel to kill Sport: he kills Sport, the mafioso who is Iris’s customer, and Sport’s man. Then he tries to shoot himself, but he has no bullets left.

After some time, the wounded Travis is discharged from the hospital. No case is brought against him; on the contrary, the media portrays him as a hero. Iris returns to her family; her mother and father write Travis a letter of thanks and invite him to their home. Meanwhile, one night, Betsy gets into Travis’s taxi, says she read about what happened in the newspaper, and asks how he is. It is as if she is ready to give him another chance. After Betsy gets out of the taxi, the film ends as Travis continues on his way into the night.

In his interview with Terry Gross, the screenwriter Paul Schrader says that Travis first plans to kill Palantine, the father figure of Betsy, that is, the good girl; when he cannot kill him, he kills Sport, the father figure of Iris, that is, the bad girl; and that these two are not very different in Travis’s mind, but in the eyes of society this act makes him a hero (Gross). Had he killed Palantine, Travis would have been seen as a traitor; because he kills Sport, he is perceived as a hero.

One reason Taxi Driver is remembered today as such a singular film is probably that the act of vengeance takes place in so nuanced a way. Had Travis killed Palantine, he would have vomited up the rage inside him cruelly. By killing Sport and his accomplices, he directs the rage inside him toward a noble aim. But the rage is the same rage. Scorsese says that Travis has very good intentions, that he wants to “cleanse his life, his mind, his soul” (62). He notes that Travis is a person with a very powerful spiritual side, but that the force of this spirituality flows in the wrong direction, and adds:

“The key point of the film is the idea of being brave enough to admit that you have these feelings, and then to act them out. Instinctively, I showed that acting them out is not the right way, and this added ironic twists to what happens.” (62) The Uncanny “Happy Ending”

The film’s closing sequence closely resembles its opening sequence. After wishing Betsy good night and continuing on his way, we move with Travis through the New York night within the optimistic atmosphere of the saxophones. As we watch the surroundings through Travis’s eyes, a sense of peace fills us. Then suddenly Travis’s gaze catches on some point; an uneasy expression forms on his face; we do not know what it is. After the saxophones continue a little longer, the percussion that appears all at once closes the film on a dark note. For Travis, a dark page will probably open again at some point. We feel this. Despite the happy ending composed of Travis appearing in the newspapers as a hero, Iris rescued (we have learned from her parents’ letter that she is continuing school), and Betsy reappearing before him in her angelic beauty, Taxi Driver ends with an uncanny feeling.

With his film, Martin Scorsese wrote the visual poem of urban loneliness and modern alienation. Taxi Driver is regarded by many critics as the best film of the 1970s.

In an episode of his highly successful podcast The Thinking Mind, the psychiatrist Alex Curmi, discussing the film with his guest, the director Tom Shkolnik, asks in the context of the violence it contains whether “such a film could be made today.” Leaving the matter of violence aside, we can say that, for other reasons, even if such a film were made today, its reception would probably be very different.

Within the censorship mechanism of the dogma of political correctness, the branding of a character who says, “Many people are like that. Women for sure. They’re like a union,” as a misogynist, and the cancellation of the director, would probably be completed within a few hours. Those who tried to point out that this character had saved a twelve-year-old girl from prostitution would most likely fall victim to a second wave of cancellation.

From the words in the quotation above, “whores, thieves, lowlifes, fags, pill-poppers, junkies,” we may infer that Travis is homophobic. As Scorsese also notes, Travis is an antihero. The film asks us not to approve of him, only to understand him. The split in his soul, his contradictions, his weaknesses... But today a very different apparatus of power operates over cultural and artistic production. So be it. Travises find life somehow. In the magical realm of cinema, neither nights nor hazy lonelinesses ever come to an end...

BibliographyKaynakça

Curmi, Alex. The Thinking Mind. Episode 168.

Dostoevsky, Fyodor Mikhailovich. 2020 [1864]. Notes from Underground. Türkiye İş Bankası Kültür Yayınları.

Gross, Terry. Interview with Paul Schrader. NPR. https://www.npr.org/transcripts/nx-s1-5702412 .

Mungan, Murathan. 2010 [1998]. Metinler Kitabı. “A Text for Taxi Drivers,” p. 39, Metis.

Scorsese, Martin. 1996 [1989]. Scorsese on Scorsese. Edited by David Thompson and Ian Christie. Faber & Faber.

Birikim · read in Turkish