Mise en Scene

We are in a dingy, cramped New York apartment. Our only company is some whack job who is always playing with his .44 magnum and talking to himself in the mirror, but we feel safe in this womb of despair. We could not feel this way without Mise en Scene.

With the vision of director, Martin Scorsese and D.P., Michael Chapman, New York City is a cavalcade of claustrophobia. Travis's tiny apartment, his little yellow cab, the closing walls of a putrid brothel, and even the wide aerial shots feel stifling, but stifling in a good way. We are transported into Travis's world. Can you smell the smells? Can feel the humidity of the summer in New york? I can. The atmosphere is so rich and thick that I feel inside the film every time that I watch it.

Scorsese uses Mise en Scene to convey Travis's isolation. The scene in which Travis is on a pay phone with Betsy starts as a medium shot with De Niro's back to us, but as the conversation becomes desperate the camera dollies right to reveal a long empty hallway. Scorsese has said that this was to convey that the conversation was to painful and pathetic to bear.

There are bird's eye full shots of De Niro lying on an army cot that make me feel as if I am the proverbial fly on the wall. It is his private time and the audience is not welcome there, so we must spy. The most visually striking shots are the bird's eye in the brothel after the massacre. The walls are high and confining as the lens moves over the carnage. It is almost as if the screen is screaming in shock and horror.

The whole film feels closed even if the scenes are open. The vastness of New York feels just like being on acid in an open field. The spaces are wide and uncharted, but you can't help but feel imprisoned by your own aura.