Character Analysis
Going Crazy, One Passenger at a Time
Travis Bickle really is the movie. He's the taxi driver of the title, for one thing, and the movie dives into his life in a completely focused, intimate, and yes, totally upsetting way.
What's more, his character doesn't just dominate the entire film—he's dominated the cinematic landscape and more than a few dorm room walls. (Are your dreams creepier if you have Travis smiling down on you every night? Probably.) In an American Film Institute Poll, Bickle was ranked as the 30th greatest villain of all time (though he might be more of an anti-hero than a villain), and Empire ranked him as the 18th greatest character.
When the movie begins, we see Travis going to the taxi company's personnel office to find work. He's been suffering from insomnia, wandering around the city at night, and he says he figures he might as well get paid for it. He also reveals to the personnel officer that he's an ex-marine, a former Vietnam vet—one of the tiny shreds of background info we get about him. Also, according to Martin Scorsese, Bickle originally comes from the Midwest—which is part of the reason New York looks like hell to him. It ain't the Heart Land.
We get to see Travis' rapidly evolving inner state as a he drives around the city or hangs out in his apartment. On voiceover, he reads entries from his journals, expressing his inmost thoughts… and no, these thoughts aren't just "Hey, I want a muffin. Mmm, muffin."
We discover that he's just looking for a purpose in life, that he wants to be like other people—though his personal peculiarities make sure he's never going to be like that—and that he's been haunted by loneliness since he was born:
"Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man."
Oh, you think that's bleak? Keep reading. You don't know from the sheer bleaktitude that is Travis' soul.
Not a Great First Date
However, Travis isn't suffering this isolation without blaming anyone. He's filled with a simmering rage that gradually comes to a boil during the course of the movie. He's mad at everyone—disgusted by the passengers he picks up (like a crazy guy who raves about wanting to murder his wife, which: fair enough) and by the violence he witnesses on the streets.
The other taxi drivers are friendly towards him, but Travis seems locked in the prison of his own anger, continually stewing on the inside. It's not that other people don't want to connect with him—it's that his own lack of social skills and personal weirdness prevents him from realizing those connections. Dude needs some therapy, some meds, and a copy of How To Win Friends and Influence People, stat.
Finally, he thinks he's found a way out of his misery. From his taxi, he keeps stopping to observe a woman who works for the Charles Palantine presidential campaign, and—without ever talking to her—idealizes her into a beautiful angel, untouched by the filth of NYC. Now that sounds like a rational way of thinking.
One day, he dares to go into campaign headquarters and talk to her—despite the weird introductory speech he gives, telling her that he thinks she's a lonely person (like him) and that there's some hidden connection between them, she's unusually willing to grab something to eat with him. The snack they get goes pretty well, and they make a date to go see a movie together. This is where Travis' personal peculiarities take over.
Even though he's idealized Betsy into this angel-goddess—instead of seeing her as, like, a person—he thinks taking her to a porno movie would be a great first date idea. (Protip to all the would-be Romeos out there: This is not a smooth idea.)
Apparently, Travis doesn't know anything about normal movies (or culture in general for that matter—he doesn't know anything about music, which Betsy's into) and his experience of life is so limited that he assumes she would like going to a porno movie with him. In a way, his psychology is kind of simple—he assumes, "Oh, I like this kind of movie, therefore she'll like it."
It highlights how immensely unprepared and perhaps warped Travis' mind is. Should he know not to take a girl to a porn movie on a first date? Yes, but why doesn't he? Is it because his environment never provided him with these social skills or because there was always something wrong with him and he was simply unable to learn these basic lessons? We don't know.
Hey, What's Wrong with Talking to Yourself When You're Alone? (While Drawing a Gun? In the Mirror?)
When Betsy walks out of the porno theater, Travis is totally baffled and tries to grab her to prevent her from leaving, which doesn't help matters. Later, he tries to call her on the phone, but his rejection becomes final. She doesn't want to have anything to do with this creep. (Good call, Bets.)
Unaware that he was being a creep, Travis goes to campaign headquarters and rages against Betsy saying she's "like all the rest of them" and telling her she's "in a hell" and is going to "die in a hell." Although he leaves without doing anything physically violent, the road to his madness has now been paved. Faced with a situation he doesn't understand, Travis reacts with rage: He can't analyze his own actions and motivations, so he decides that the rest of the world is The Enemy.
Then—you got it, this movie is one big downward spiral—Travis grows increasingly more unstable. He's going for maximum unstable. One of the other taxi drivers, Wizard, tries to help him out, but his advice is so rambling and off-point that it doesn't do him any good.
Travis starts working out, getting in shape, preparing himself for some violent moment of truth. He buys a full arsenal of guns, and practices drawing them in the mirror, giving his famous "You talkin' to me?" speech:
"You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Well, who the hell else are you talkin' to? You talkin' to me? Well, I'm the only one here. Who the f*** do you think you're talkin' to?"
There's a reason these lines are quoted all. the. time. Not only are they easy to remember (and easy to use anytime you want to make someone super uncomfortable), but they're brilliantly representative of Travis' mental state: He thinks, in a way, that he's the only man on earth—he's "the only one here." Part of this is his severe loneliness, and part of it is his complete inability to make a connection with anyone else.
However, don't take one uber-famous soliloquy as proof that Travis thinks the sun revolves around Planet Bickle. Check out his increasingly unhinged diary entries:
"Listen you f***ers, you screwheads. Here's a man who would not take it anymore. Who would not let—Listen you f***ers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the c***s, the dogs, the filth, the s***. Here is someone who stood up. Here is... [draws gun]. You're dead."
In Travis' mind, he's a "man," and the rest of the NYC population is made up of… well, no need to repeat that string o' cuss words.
Don't worry, though, guys… Travis is about to get even more unhinged. Take a deep breath with us—you're going to need the oxygen in this next, deeper level of insanity.
Hey, When Life Gives You Lemons…
As he descends into madness, Travis starts fixating on two different subjects: Charles Palantine with his presidential campaign, and a twelve-year-old prostitute named Iris who tries to get into his cab before her pimp drags her out. Travis starts fantasizing about assassinating Palantine (which is nutso) and about freeing Iris from prostitution (which is… oh, hey: That's actually a nice thing to do).
He seeks Iris out and invites her to get breakfast with him, where he urges her to leave her pimp and go back home. Similarly to the way he viewed Betsy, Travis considers Iris a symbol of innocence—she's been captured by this filthy, evil city, but he's going to help her get free.
At one point in his progression, Travis commits an act of real violence: He shoots a robber who was trying to stick up a convenience store. The store clerk is grateful and proceeds to beat the half-alive body of the would-be thief. This, apparently, is socially acceptable—since the robber was trying to do something wrong. However, Travis is considering an act that would not be socially acceptable at all—killing Palantine. When he finally makes his move, he shaves his head leaving a Mohawk on top—a symbol of his rebirth as an assassin. However, it doesn't work. The Secret Service spots him trying to draw a gun and he bolts.
Instead of making an aggressive display of violence for purely destructive and hateful purposes, Travis decides to personally liberate Iris—through force. He's decided this is the only way to express his manhood. Lacking a connection with anyone, he feels like he needs to make a super-aggressive display of his potency.
He blows away Iris' pimp, Sport, before killing the brothel time-keeper/clerk, and murdering a gangster-john who's visiting Iris. It gets super-gory—Travis stabs the time-keeper through the hand before blowing the guy's brains out. In the process, Travis gets wounded and shot multiple times—and tries to kill himself too, though he's out of ammo. The arriving cops just stare as Travis pretends to shoot himself in the head with his own bloody fingers. He's totally cracked it.
"The World Just Goes a Little Mad Sometimes" –Thornton Wilder
Travis' insanity seems to appeal to the hidden rage of people everywhere—instead of being sent to prison for murder, Travis is hailed as a hero by the newspapers, and Iris' parents warmly thank him for rescuing her and helping return her. Ironically, if he'd succeeded with his first idea—assassinating Palantine—everyone would've considered him a villain. Instead, having vented his rage in a more acceptable way—since everyone's so sick of New York's criminality and violence—he's become a hero. Even Betsy seeks out a ride with the now hailed vigilante.
Has this violence purged Travis' system? Will he be capable of living a normal life now? Don't count on it. At the very end of the movie, there's a moment where Travis' eyes dart in his taxi's mirror and an ominous noise sounds. This indicates that Travis' madness is still waiting, ready to rear its ugly little head again. Dude hasn't become normal or healed his mental wounds—we have the feeling that everything is going to unravel yet again.
Travis Bickle's Timeline