The Art of the Title Sequence

Taxi Driver


"Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets." - Travis Bickle

An opaque plume of sewer steam rises, slowly, before being dispersed by the emergence of a yellow taxi cab. Dan Perri's neon infused title designs are revealed on the re-formed mist, each credit appearing only as long as necessary before the next is displayed.

Paul Schrader's screenplay introduces the anti-hero, Travis Bickle:

Age 26, lean, hard, the consummate loner. On the surface he appears good-looking, even handsome; he has a quiet steady look and a disarming smile which flashes from nowhere, lighting up his whole face. But behind that smile, around his dark eyes, in his gaunt cheeks, one can see the ominous stains caused by a life of private fear, emptiness and loneliness. He seems to have wandered in from a land where it is always cold, a country where the inhabitants seldom speak. The head moves, the expression changes, but the eyes remain ever-fixed, unblinking, piercing empty space.

Cut to Bickle's eyes as he peers through the window of his taxi, observing the city streets. The seedy splendor of 1970s New York City flashes by, images of a nightly routine that threatens to become hypnotic. This intra-diegetic gaze provides an insight into Bickle's psyche and his relationship to the city - its inhabitants, its buildings, its allure. All we see through this point of view is a melange of colors and images that remain constant and blurred.

Writer Paul Schrader discusses the photographic process for the credits.

Bernard Herrmann's remarkable career—composing classical scores to films such as Citizen Kane, Psycho, North by Northwest, Vertigo—culminated with Taxi Driver. His final opus oscillates between two contrasting parts, each with their own rhythm; one a foreboding crescendo of horns, the other, the romantic languor of a saxophone.

The binary opposition within the score serves as a counterpoint to the visuals, offsetting Bickle's roaming disdain for the city streets. The saxophone medley in Herrmann's "Main Theme" is later repeated when Bickle first encounters Betsy. The accompanying monologue is his reverie, "She appeared like an angel. Out of this filthy mass, she is alone. They...cannot...touch... her..." This evoked mood is something pure, almost celestial, and is ultimately associated with a fleeting feeling of hope in the city he abhors.

Director Martin Scorsese discusses the film's end credits 'sting' and Travis Bickle's fate.

The title sequence for Taxi Driver provides a window into Travis Bickle and his world. It remains unclear whether he is savior or villain, a man with a clear conscience or an individual driven by rage and anguish.

WRITER: Shaun Mir
AUDIO EXCERPTS: Taxi Driver - Two-Disc Collector's Edition DVD (2007)
LAST UPDATE: September 5, 2011
© Art of the Title, 2011

Mean Streets

"You don't make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets. You do it at home. The rest is bullshit and you know it." - Martin Scorsese

With the edge of the truth in the words and Martin Scorsese's use of 8mm home movies (1.37:1 aspect ratio) nestled inside the 35mm (1.85:1 "Academy Flat" aspect ratio) of the film proper we open on a haunted and tormented bull that is Harvey Keitel passing a crucifix on the way to facing himself. We inch inward as he lays his head to the sounds of Phil Spector-produced "Be My Baby" by The Ronettes, and trip the lens-lit rabbit hole with film formats that coddle the credits.

Consider the following:

Martin Scorsese (from 2004 Warner Home Video DVD):

“It's kind of difficult to talk about how and why [Mean Streets] was made. When I think about the film and think about the time in my life having made the film and having been, in a sense, a part of the way of life that is depicted in the film it seems to, in my mind, be the final culmination of everything of what I was to do and who I am. In my mind it's not really a film. It's a declaration or a statement of who I am and how I was living; those thoughts and dilemmas and conflicts were very much a part of my life up to that point in time. They couldn't be expressed in any other way [other than] resulting in this movie."

“There is no message. It's something that came out of me organically. The only way to express it was camera and dialog and actors and color and music. In my mind it was a representation of who I was, my friends, and where I came from. The genesis was my life."


Scorsese's cathectic rationale with his 8mm footage carry the whip and whisper of an era so rich with detail, so crackingly vibrant the memories are real enough to call your own.

Raging Bull

“You never got me down, Ray.” – Jake La Motta

Sometimes the opening frames of Raging Bull remind me of the linear roll of a marble in To Kill A Mockingbird’s opening sequence. Both opening sequences share the perfect music (Raging Bull’s theme is Intermezzo from the opera Cavalleria Rusticana, by Pietro Mascagni), incredibly visualized soundscapes, beautiful black and white cinematography, and a refined sense of gritty production design.

A row of shapes sits in judgment, while old-timey flashbulbs pop and die with the slowness of the tragedy that is about to unfold. What do those photos look like?

Robert DeNiro’s Jake La Motta is a coiled human animal, caged like a note on sheet music; fierce, balletic and balanced to its function. The ropes of the ring are framed like bars of music. Indeed, “give me a stage where this bull here can rage…that’s entertainment.”

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The Set-Up


"You're a fighter, you gotta fight."

Hammers wait. The boxers step to the fore and we see none of the blows but all of the consequence. Moments, perhaps rounds, pass with a nice transitional crossfade and the sluggish weaken.

Viewer as spectator. Based on Joseph Moncure March's narrative poem, directed by Robert Wise and shot by Milton Krasner, A.S.C., the cold opening title sequence to The Set-Up focuses solely on the legs of the combatants with Wise's credit framed by a fall. The unintelligible holler of the crowd serves as the only score.

Martin Scorsese on the commentary track, referring to Wise, "You know you are in the hands of a master."

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