Taxi Driver script by Paul Schrader (reworked with a woman by Jacqueline Valencia)
A SHORT WHILE LATER, TRACY is walking down the sidewalk near the taxi garage. Her hands are in her jacket pockets, obscuring the slight bulge on her left side.
TRACY turns into the box offfice of PORNO THEATER. She reaches into jacket pocket for money to purchase ticket and pulls out crumpled $20 bill. Seeing the $20 bill, she decides not to use it, and pays for ticket out of her wallet instead.
TRACY walks past concession stand en route to the darkened theater auditorium. A YOUNG MAN is now sitting listlessly behind the concessions counter, a look of surprise on his face.
INT. PORNO THEATER AUDITORIUM
TRACY slouches down into her seat, her face glowing in the reflected light from the screen.
FEMALE MOVIE VOICE (O.S.)
Oh, come on, now, down, lick it,
Mmm, that’s good. Ahh, ahh, more …
TRACY averts her eyes as the action on screen becomes too graphic. Placing her stiffened right hand beside her eyes, TRACY can, by turning it inward, shut off or open up her field of vision by small degrees.
MOVIE VOICE DIMINISHES, replaced by SOUND of TRACY’S voice over.
The idea had been growing in my
TRACKING SHOT to wall of TRACY’S APARTMENT. CAMERA MOVES slowly across wall covered with clippings, notes, maps, pictures. We now see their contents clearly:
The wall is covered with CHARLES PALANTINE political paraphernalia; there are pictures of him, newspaper articles, leaflets, bumper stickers. As the CAMERA MOVES along it discovers a sketch of Plaza Hotel, Kennedy Airport and cut- up sections of city maps with notations written in. There is lengthy N.Y. Times clipping detailing the increased Secret Security Protection during the primaries. A section pertaining to PALANTINE is underlined. Further along there is a sheet reading “traveling schedule” and a calendar for June with finely written notations written over the dates.
TRACY (V.O.) (CONTD)
… for some time. True Force.
All the king’s men cannot put it
back together again.
As the CAMERA reaches the end of its track, it finds TRACY, standing in just an open blouse, bra, and pants. She is wearing the empty holster, and the .44 looks too big in her small hands.
In the SHOTS that follow TRACY gives the audience a lesson in gunmanship:
TRACY practices fast-drawing the .38 Special from her holster and firing it.
She hooks the .44 into her pants behind her back and practices withdrawing it. She holds the .44 firmly at an arm’s length, tightening her forearm muscles.
She has worked out a system of metal gliders taped to her inner forearm, whereby the Colt .25 can rest hidden behind the upper forearm until a spring near the elbow is activated, sending the .25 flying down the gliders into her palm. She has cut open her blouse to accomodate the gun mechanism and now checks in the mirror to see how well the gun is hidden.
She straps an Army combat knife to her calf and cuts a slit in her jeans where the knife can be pulled out quickly.
She now tries on various combinations of blouses, sweater and jacket in front of the mirror to see how well she can hide all the handguns she wishes to carry.
Finally, wearing a loose shirt, a bra that is bigger than her regular size, a sweater and jacket, she manages to obscure the location of all three guns, although she resembles a boy hunter bundled up against the Arctic winter.
She sits at the table dum-dumming the .44 bullets — cutting “x’s” across the bullet heads.
P.O.V.: she scans the objects of her room through the scope of the .38.
TRACY stands in the middle of her apartment, staring at her PALANTINE wall. Her eyes are glazed with introspection; she sees nothing but herself.
Listen you assholes: Here is a woman …
TRACY lies on her mattress, all bundled up in her shirt, oversized bra, sweater, jacket and guns. Her face is turned toward the ceiling, but her eyes are closed. Although the room is flooded with light, she is finally catching some sleep.
The big furry animal drifts into her own world.
TRACY (V.O.)(CONTD) … who wouldn’t take it any more, a woman who stood up against the scum, the douchebags, the dogs, the rapists. Here is …
(voice trails off)
C.U. of diary: entry ends with words “Here is” followed by erratic series of dots.