L.A. is about space, and here one's self-worth comes from how one chooses to navigate that space. Walking is akin to begging in the streets. Taxicabs are for foreigners and prostitutes. Bicycles, skateboards, and Rollerblades are for health nuts and kids, people with nowhere to go. And all cars, from the luxury import to the classified-ad jalopy, are status symbols, because no matter how shoddy the upholstery, how bouncy the ride, how fucked-up the paint job, the car, any car, is better than riding the bus.
In Los Angeles, the concept of personal value is closely tied to how individuals navigate the city's vast landscape. The way one moves through the urban environment—whether by foot, bike, or car—speaks volumes about their social standing. Walking, for instance, is seen as an act of desperation, while vehicles serve as indicators of status, irrespective of their condition. This unveils a societal hierarchy based on transportation choices, suggesting that one's worth is intertwined with the ability to navigate the city's spaces.
In contrast, public transportation like buses is viewed unfavorably, reinforcing the notion that any form of personal vehicle, no matter how dilapidated, is preferable. This dynamic illustrates the significance placed on mobility and how it reflects broader societal values. In essence, Beatty's portrayal of L.A. underscores the absurdities of a culture that equates self-worth with material possessions and the means of transportation, revealing deeper insights into social perceptions within urban life.
