On March 30th, 1981, John Hinckely Jr, a struggling songwriter who had developed an obsession with the character Travis Bickle, played by Robert De Niro in the 1976 Taxi Driver, waited outside the Hilton hotel in Washington before shooting then president Ronald Reagan and his entourage as they left after an afternoon function.
One of the inadvertent consequences of the assassination attempt was the postponement of that night’s Oscar ceremony. Instead it was held the following evening when, in a curious quirk of fate, De Niro was named as best actor for his role in Raging Bull. As mesmeric and fluid as he could be on screen, the New Yorker was always a reticent figure when it came to public speaking. He apologised for his nervousness that night, and made a general allusion to “all the terrible things that are happening in the world”.
On Tuesday, De Niro, now 80, found himself in front of the microphones again. He was literally on home ground, in front of the grim edifice of Manhattan criminal court in Centre Street, just a quick stroll from his childhood home in Greenwich Village. He was there to pronounce on the travesty of Donald Trump on the day that jury deliberations in the former president’s hush money trial began and presented his verdict as a kind of spokesperson for the city.
“I love this city. I don’t want to destroy it. Donald Trump wants to destroy not only the city but the country and eventually he could destroy the world. I owe this city a lot. And that’s why it’s so weird that Donald Trump is just across the street. Because he doesn’t belong in my city. I don’t know where he belongs, but he certainly doesn’t belong here. We New Yorkers used to tolerate him when he was just another grubby real estate hustler masquerading as a big shot; a two-bit playboy lying his way into the tabloids pretending to be a spokesperson for himself. He was calling it as himself for himself to fool the press into inflating his net worth. A clown. But this city is pretty accommodating. We make room for clowns.”
‘Prime minister Farage’: Reform UK leader says party has ‘come of age’ and could win the next election
Middle East on brink of regional conflict as attacks on Hizbullah shift focus to Lebanon
Sri Lanka’s ruling elite face judgment in first election since plunge into financial crisis
Pastors make stand as Alternative for Germany set for electoral gains in chancellor’s backyard
Even if he never acts again De Niro has created a vivid and unique body of work that offers a kaleidoscopic vision of New York and not just through the obvious films. Even the minor works – Falling in Love, A Bronx Tale – are reflections of the actor in his habitat. He is a New York institution. But, in a different way, so is Donald Trump. And on Tuesday De Niro found himself outnumbered and shouted down by the Trump fanatics who were there in numbers to heckle the actor when he spoke and hurl abuse at him as he departed afterwards.
They called him a “f***kin joke” and “washed-up”, a “nobody” and, surrounded by security, De Niro retorted by saying: “You’re not gonna intimidate me. That’s what Trump does – he tries to intimidate. We’re gonna fight back. We’re tryin’ to be gentlemen in this world. You are gangsters! You are gangsters!”
It was, by any measure, an extraordinary moment, and a reminder of the hallucinatory strangeness of American public life right now.
Republicans quickly jumped on De Niro’s appearance as a none-too-subtle plant by the Biden campaign. The National Association of Broadcasters rescinded an award that it had planned to give to De Niro on the grounds that its event is bipartisan. Given that De Niro has been constant and outspoken in his criticism of Trump for years that could be construed as a cop-out.
Trump himself was awake into the early hours of Wednesday morning when he retaliated with a post on Truth Social, referring to his antagonist as a “wacko former actor”.
The commentariat quickly decided it was a strange move given that the Biden camp had remained studiously above the fray throughout the trial. “Who thought this was a good idea?” wondered David Axelrod, a former Obama senior adviser and a De Niro fan, who thought the timing “grossly misjudged”.
And few missed a chance to point out that wheeling out an 80-year-old film star was not a stunt to engage the younger voters who, polling suggests, are unreachable to the Biden campaign.
Perhaps. But that argument misses the point that De Niro has reached the age where he doesn’t care about the backlash. And that there are many millions of voters, the avid cinema goers of previous generations, who continue to revere him.
The reluctance of current stars from film and entertainment to publicly endorse Biden has been conspicuous. In such a fraught and raucous atmosphere saying nothing means little risk to the brand in an age when individual brand is everything. And who among the current generation would have the chutzpah to deliver anything like De Niro’s scathing denunciation?
When – and if – the dust settles after this bizarre election year, De Niro’s courthouse cameo will endure as one of those snapshots that will become emblematic of a mad time.