EXT. NEW YORK CITY STREET—NIGHT
The grimy, rain-soaked streets of Lower Manhattan. A YELLOW CAB speeds uptown, passing strip joints, electronics shops, and grindhouse movie theaters on its way to the tonier areas of the city.
INSIDE THE CAB
The 26-year-old TAXI DRIVER behind the wheel wears cowboy boots, jeans, and a plaid western shirt covered by a worn beige army jacket emblazoned with a patch that reads “King Kong Company 1968-70.”
He spots a new fare waving frantically at him from the corner. He pulls over. The single PASSENGER he already has in the back, a bearded Italian-American man of some intensity, leans forward.
PASSENGER
Excuse me. Excuse me. Did I tell you to stop? Did I tell you to stop this cab?
The TAXI DRIVER glances into his rear-view mirror and makes direct eye contact. The PASSENGER
slumps back into his seat.
PASSENGER
OK, OK. So God’s lonely man is in charge of this show.
A cheery-looking, stocky, Italian-American young man wearing a natty blue suit plops into the back.
MARTY
Can you take me to the Bronx, cabbie?
TAXI DRIVER
Anytime, anywhere.
The cab PULLS AWAY from the curb. The hefty new customer flashes a BIG, GAP-TOOTHED GRIN.
MARTY
Gosh, I just had the swellest date ever.
TAXI DRIVER
A date?
MARTY
Yeah!
TAXI DRIVER
You want a girl? I know a girl. Her name’s Iris. Nice girl.
MARTY
Naw, but thanks. Clara’s the gal I’m gonna marry.
TAXI DRIVER
I’m Travis. What’s your name, buddy?
MARTY
Marty Piletti.
PASSENGER
That’s—I can’t believe—that’s completely insane. Marty’s my name, too. My name, did you know that? How could you know that, I mean, that would be completely insane.
MARTY
That sure is a coincidence.
PASSENGER
Lemme tell ya something, Marty. Never get married. Never. Never ever. You know why?
MARTY
No…why?
PASSENGER
I’ll tell you why. When we get to this house. Where my wife is.
You know who lives in that house?
MARTY
Well…no…
PASSENGER
I’ll tell you who lives in that house—
The TAXI DRIVER SLAMS on the brakes. Everyone looks through the windshield to see
a long-haired, unshaven and shirtless man with an EYE PATCH and a huge
COBRA TATTOO on his stomach, holding his hand out inches from the hood.
He jumps into the back seat.
TAXI DRIVER
Where’s the fire, Cyclops?
SNAKE
Call me Snake. You don’t wanna catch the backdraft, cabbie, I’d step on that gas and get me outta this city pronto.
MARTY
Gosh, fella, we were comin’ at you so fast I thought you was dead!
SNAKE
Yeah, you and everybody else. You look familiar to me. Like you should be in the front seat.
MARTY
Nah, I’m just a fat, ugly man.
SNAKE
All I know is ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me from gettin’ the hell out of here
as fast as this heap can take me.
TAXI DRIVER
That’s not exactly the king’s speech, there, pal.
SNAKE
The king’s speech? Well, who the hell are you, friend? The queen?
TAXI DRIVER
You talkin’ to me?
MARTY
I think he is. Oh my geez.
TAXI DRIVER
You got a gun, sport?
SNAKE
Bet your sweet bippy I do.
SNAKE pulls up a SMITH & WESSON 629 HUNTER.44 MAGNUM and
jams it against the Taxi Driver’s head.
SNAKE
See that, Capone? Know what this is?
MARTY
Oh my geez!
PASSENGER
Now I would do what he says. Have you seen what a .44 Magnum can do to
a man’s private parts? That you should see. What a .44 Magnum can do to
a man’s private parts, that you should see.
MARTY
Fellas, fellas! What am I, crazy or something? What am I hanging around with you guys for?
Let’s all sing a song, OK? I know a millon of ‘em. How ‘bout this one?
(sings)
“It seems like a year since we chugalugged a beer…”
As the cab disappears around the PEEP WORLD storefront, the others join in singing the merry waltz and the sound of the unlikely male choir can be heard trailing off into the darkness.
Taxi Driver is now available on Blu-ray.
Marty is a great movie.
Escape from New York should never ever ever be remade.