Sometimes, conventional wisdom holds true: no original screenplay in the past 50 years surpasses Robert Towne’s work on “Chinatown.” Its elegant plot, political depth, literate dialogue, and historical resonance set it apart. The screenplay’s hard-bitten dialogue and sophisticated play on noir archetypes make it a standout. While directors often overshadow writers, Towne’s voice is unmistakable in this film, even with Roman Polanski’s masterful direction. “Chinatown” perfectly blends Old Hollywood glamor with New Hollywood revisionism, marking it as a true benchmark of its decade.
The film’s bleak portrayal of American power dynamics is unflinching. It shows how powerful, unaccountable men manipulate civilization, confident their sins will go unpunished. Yet, the film’s late ’30s Hollywood setting and Jack Nicholson’s cool, dogged performance make it an easy watch. Nicholson’s character, Jake Gittes, is a sarcastic private eye who mostly snaps photos of adulterers. However, Nicholson imbues him with a hidden nobility, determined to see his case through, despite knowing it won’t end well.
Every element of “Chinatown” fits seamlessly. The opening scene, where a client flips through photos of his wife’s affair, pays off later when Jake asks for a favor. This scene also introduces Towne’s sharp dialogue. When the client reacts dramatically, Jake quips, “You can’t eat the venetian blinds. I just had them installed on Wednesday.” When a woman posing as Mrs. Mulwray hires Jake to follow her husband, it seems like just another job. But this case brings out Jake’s best.
Jake soon realizes he’s been duped. The woman isn’t Mrs. Mulwray but part of a scheme to discredit Hollis Mulwray, the chief engineer of the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. Hollis opposes a multimillion-dollar plan to build a faulty dam. The real Mrs. Mulwray, played by Faye Dunaway, is furious when Jake’s photos appear in the newspaper. The plot thickens when Hollis is found dead, supposedly drowned in a reservoir. Amid a historic drought, water is being diverted at night, revealing a grand, insidious scheme. Jake gets entangled in the details and the twisted life of the femme fatale leading him on.
Inspired by the water wars that shaped Southern California, “Chinatown” brings urgency to public planning meetings that can enrich some and bankrupt many. As a prime example of LA noir, the film portrays City Hall as a Goliath, making crucial resource decisions. John Huston, cast as Noah Cross, embodies the ultimate behind-the-scenes player. Polanski’s low-angle shots and Huston’s commanding voice make Cross seem even more imposing.
The scenes between Cross and Jake are a dazzling battle of wills. Nicholson’s natural confidence withers in Huston’s presence. Cross’s deliberate mispronunciation of Jake’s name, calling him “Mr. Gitts,” is likely a tactic to belittle him. “You’ve got a nasty reputation, Mr. Gitts,” Cross says. “I like that.” But their similar reputations don’t make them equals. Jake uncovers all of Cross’s dark secrets but is powerless to act. That’s real power.
Producer Robert Evans often took more credit than deserved, but “Chinatown” stands out for its impeccable grandeur. The film brings 1930s Los Angeles to life, mapping a geography of wealth and want. From Cross’s Catalina Island estate to the parched orange groves, the film scales up appropriately. Jake could be a gumshoe in any B-grade detective story, but the film’s budget and talent elevate it.
“Chinatown” is part of a continuum of California noir, influenced by Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett and followed by works like “LA Confidential” and “Inherent Vice.” These stories often link crimes of passion to municipal corruption. Reluctant heroes like Gittes can only uncover how cities like Los Angeles operate, deepening their cynicism. “Politicians, ugly buildings, and whores all get respectable if they last long enough,” sneers Cross. He seems to foresee the bronze statue that will one day honor him.
