(Originally published by the Daily News on February 9, 1976. This story was written by Kathleen Carroll.)
He had the kind of face that no one ever looked at twice, and yet one chilling day, the whole world watched in horror, as he gunned down Gov. George Wallace. That was Arthur Bremer, whose lonely, subterranean existence and hunger for attention appears to have been the main inspiration for a brutally disturbing film, “Taxi Driver.”
For there is very little doubt that the character of Travis Bickle, played so brilliantly by Robert De Niro, was suggested in some degree, by Bremer’s life. Not that Travis has a life to speak of. He avoids personal contacts of any kind, feeling certain he’ll be rejected. His entire world consists of a dreary one-room apartment with only two obvious possessions — an ancient television set and a diary.
BEST ROBERT DE NIRO PERFORMANCES HE DIDN’T WIN AN OSCAR FOR
Mysteriously tense and unable to sleep, he fills the long night hours by driving a taxi. The numbing impersonality of the job suits him perfectly. Separated by a protective shield from his passengers, he can safely maintain his detachment. During the day, he retreats to that other haven for lonely men — the porn house, where he stuffs himself with junk food.
One day he spots a beautiful blonde (who else but Cybill Shepherd, who is ideally casts once more), a symbol of purity compared to the ugliness around him. Summing up all his courage, he asks her out but, although willing at first, she is soon frightened by his intensity, and appalled by his pathetic lack of intelligence. He decides she is one of “them,” part of an entire conspiracy to ignore him. He begins to hate them all, the populist political candidate she works for, the prostitutes, the pimps and the holdupmen.
Suddenly imbued with a sense of purpose, Travise arms himself, of vicious weapons. This, he believes, he will finally be someone worthy of recognition and attention. And “Taxi Driver” proves him right, following a nerve-tingling sequence of repeated violence to a twist ending that should leave audiences gasping.
What is completely worthy of recognition here is De Niro’s altogether devastating performance. He has acquired a psychopath’s blank smile, and his sullen silences and brooding anger give more than a hint of the violence that is to come. But De Niro also manages to be as sad as he is frightening. From his general discomfort with others and his feeble attempts at communication, it’s possible to recognize the root cause of Travis’ inner distress as a terrible longing for approval.
There are other remarkable performances: a comic one by Peter Boyle as a kind of hack psychiatrist, a gritty one by Harvey Keitel as a hustling pimp and an especially moving one by Jody Foster as a street-tough 12-year-old prostitute.
But what finally makes the movie so compelling is director Martin Scorsese’s scathing vision of New York as a fiery inferno of neon lights and relentlessly hostile populace. The various inconsistencies of the plot are quickly forgotten as one is sucked into this lethal underground by a combination of Scorsese’s powerful images, and a beautifully haunting musical score by the late Bernard Herrmann.
