Deepens on second watch not least for reminding me how intentionally Bressonian a character Travis Bickle was (ask Schrader, ask Scorsese) but it's the severity of everything, itself a Bressonian quality, that tipped me over into something closer to love than the first time. And by everything, I mean everything, from the stark framing to the apocalyptic melancholia to the craggy despair and desperation of Ethan Hawke's Ernst Toller, all of which feels not only more pronounced now but exacerbated, perhaps by personal circumstance, perhaps by the condition of the world at the moment, that the ending becomes even more cathartic and exhilarating than I remember it.
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