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The beat is a straight, soulless 4/4 without any of the subtle inner rhythms that made rock so sensual and complex. And the new music вЂ“ the music of the discos вЂ“ records played loudly by jockeys with a mania for manipulating their audience вЂ“ satisfied nothing but the feet. Critics saw the rise of the discos as the decline of political involvement and alternative lifestyles. For others it was the triumph of mediocrity. When the rock era ended in the early seventies, it was a fortunate return to normalcy for some. In вЂDancing in the SeventiesвЂ™, Jamake Highwater looks at the burgeoning disco scene: When he and Cybill Shepherd are together, it is not two people touching but fragile and mismatched fantasies.

The isolation is most extreme in the case of Robert De Niro. Each person is isolated, shut in by fear of others, and the only communication is the temporary exchange of delusions.

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The photography and music of Taxi Driver deliberately make the city ugly, sticky, sinister. вЂ¦Today, when cameras focus on the nerve-racked faces in Taxi Driver, on the victims and perpetrators of the bank holdup in Dog Day Afternoon, or on the drifters in Midnight Cowboy, they make city life seem more terrible than it isвЂ¦ Ten years before that Gene Kelly would have climbed out dancing, as the cabbie and passers-by beamed.

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In a movie of fifteen years ago the cabs would have been clean, shined up, and slightly out of focus: part of the background against which some quirky romance вЂ“ Breakfast at TiffanyвЂ™s, for instance вЂ“ was played out. This is how the movie Taxi Driver sees the city of New York.

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The walls of his rented room are shiny, the windows are padlocked, there are candy wrappers on the floor, vitamin bottles and Wonder Bread on the shelf. And the sallow face of Robert De Niro takes in everything and gets it wrong. Times SquareвЂ™s cheerful, tacky neon is blurred and drained of life. A taxicab moves slowly through, like a yellow fish in a heavy sea. The pavement vents clouds of steam, which turn the city scene into a hellish murk. In вЂThose Mean and Dirty StreetsвЂ™, Richard Eder writes about how the city in film in the 70s has become вЂa place of violence, squalor, degradation, and boredom, leaving many an urban moviegoer bewildered about where he livesвЂ™: It contains a letter from the Publisher Rhett Austell, announcing that with the September issue, Horizon would now be published monthly and would no longer be in hardcover. This issueвЂ™s cover features a detail of The Virgin by Andrew Wyeth, вЂthe starвЂ™ of a Wyeth retrospective at the Metropolitan Museum in New York, one of вЂA Quartet of SpectacularsвЂ™, along with the travelling вЂTreasures of TutankhamunвЂ™ then at the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago, and retrospectives of Robert Rauschenberg at the Museum of Modern Art and Alexander Calder at the Whitney Museum in New York.