If it's a Monday in the post-season, then I must have been hiding from los calcetines rojas at a double feature. Rather than lose my voice chanting "Yankees suck," last night I reveled in two fine representations of NYC during its last fiscal crisis: 1974's The Taking of Pelham 1,2,3 and the very spirit of '76 itself, Taxi Driver. You can call the postponement of Game 4 a rain delay if you like. I know a "real rain" when I see it.
Okay, I must now admit that until last night I had never seen Taxi Driver. The shame! The closest I'd even come was avoiding the monitors showing it at Club Babyhead in Providence when I was there to hear a band in the early 1990s. And I was admitted to a graduate film program. I own photocopies of screenwriter Schrader's seminal article "Notes on Film Noir." I can rehearse his historic period vs. style argument. Not only have I read Biskind's "Easy Riders, Raging Bulls," I've seen the Trio documentary. Yeah, I know. But I get bullheaded about acclaimed films sometimes.
A case in point: A friend frogstepped me to a video store and then back to my apartment once he learned that I had never seen The Shining. I'm not exaggerating. He wouldn't leave until it was over. He paused it if I left the room, even though everyone knows the sound alone in that flick is as nervewracking as the fearful symmetry of its visual composition.
Which is why I'm going to move on from Taxi Driver after a brief "What the hell were those Calvinists back home doing to Schrader's head?" There. On to Matthau.
Ah, Matthau. Yes, the grumpy old man himself, here sporting a positively reflective slick of black hair. Matthau is Lt. Garvey of the NYC Transit Authority Police and the very picture of a career bureaucrat. Even the way he spits out "Shaddap!" is a wonder of ennui. Not much ruffles his seen-it-all demeanor. Which is exactly why you want him in the office the day four dangerous fellows with color-coded names and very big automatic weapons decide to hijack a subway train. They want 1 million dollars in one hour or they'll start shooting one hostage for each minute the ransom is late. And remember, this is cash-strapped 70's New York.
Jerry Stiller--that's right, I said Jerry Stiller--is also in the office. Hell, Doris Roberts shows up to play the mayor's wife. And there's a glorious mosaic of unreconstructed New York types trapped in that subway car that'd make David Dinkins weep. Don't believe me? Check the credits.
Yes, yes, and the crooks, as I said, are named "Mr. Green," "Mr. Grey," etc., but forget Tarantino. You should really
I'm no spoiler, so I won't answer the question on everyone's lips: "How do they escape?" However, Mayor Bloomberg [yeah, you] would do well to watch the film and remember the disdain with which the mealy-mouthed, pusillanimous mayor played by Lee Wallace is regarded the next time he tries to pass himself off as a Yankees fan.
Mayor's wife: I know a million dollars sounds like a lot of money, but just think what you're gonna get in return.
Mayor: What?
Mayor's wife: Eighteen sure votes.
