the animals come out at night

It's always a pain when a beloved film in one's DVD collection is re-released in the form of a beefed up special edition set. One of the more recent releases that I might have to consider re-purchasing is Martin Scorsese's meditation on late 70s New York madness as personified by the wacked out Travis Bickle (Robert DeNiro) in "Taxi Driver." The new two-disc edition features new commentaries from screenwriter Paul Schrader, film scholar Robert Kolker, as well as new documentaries about the making of the film, its lasting influence, and a discussion of the themes the film presents.

The genius of "Taxi Drives" lies in its ability to allow Travis to spew all of his post-Vietnam misplaced self-hatred and self-inflicted insecurities at the screen in such a way that the film is a jolting and disturbing look at a man disgusted by the modern world with all of its filth and trash, literally and figuratively, but too naive and too far gone to manifest his feelings of rage and repulsion in a less violent way. It's the grit of the city that is too much for Travis. The decline of a civilization troubles him beyond comprehension and yet he derives enjoyment from crusty pornography theaters, befriends an underage prostitute, and involves himself with an industry that forces him to view his decaying environment. Cinematographer Michael Chapman paints slashes of blood red, dingy browns, and hot bolts of neon that conjure up the heat and deterioration of a violent man trapped in a world that he doesn't understand or maybe even belongs. Below is one of my favorite scenes that manages to encompass what's like to be Travis in all of its confusion and chaos. The ominous voice-over, the seductive Bernand Herrman score, the tight editing, and those incredible shots of the taxi cab covered in dots of rain never leave you. It's a cinematic celebration that culminates into something purely beautiful but displays something terrifyingly ugly.