Chinatown (1974)

Introduction

Few films have managed to blend style, substance, and cultural critique as deftly as Chinatown, a 1974 neo-noir masterpiece that simultaneously paid homage to classic film noir while redefining the genre for a modern audience. Directed by Roman Polanski and scripted by Robert Towne—widely considered one of the greatest screenplays ever written—Chinatown is a haunting, complex tale of corruption, power, and human frailty set against the backdrop of 1930s Los Angeles.

Plot Overview (Spoiler Warning)

At the centre of Chinatown is private detective J.J. “Jake” Gittes (Jack Nicholson), a former LAPD officer turned private investigator who specializes in marital infidelity cases. When he is hired by a woman claiming to be Evelyn Mulwray to follow her husband, Hollis Mulwray—the chief engineer of the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power—Jake uncovers what appears to be a simple case of infidelity. However, things take a sinister turn when the real Evelyn Mulwray (Faye Dunaway) confronts him, and Hollis is found dead under mysterious circumstances.

As Jake digs deeper, he uncovers a conspiracy involving the city’s water supply, land speculation, and the powerful Noah Cross (John Huston), Evelyn’s father. The investigation ultimately leads to disturbing revelations about incest, murder, and systemic corruption.

Themes and Symbolism

Corruption and Power

At its core, Chinatown is a story about the abuse of power. The film uses the real-life California Water Wars as a backdrop to explore how political and economic corruption can infect an entire city. Noah Cross’s land and water conspiracy is not just criminal—it’s foundational, a rot in the very soil of Los Angeles. The systemic nature of the corruption makes individual resistance futile, reinforcing the film’s fatalistic tone.

The Illusion of Control

Jake Gittes believes in his own abilities and believes that by following clues and making the right moves, he can solve the mystery and "do the right thing." But Chinatown is a brutal lesson in humility. The title itself refers to a place where understanding and control are impossible—a metaphor for a world where appearances are deceiving and efforts to do good are often meaningless.

Identity and Deception

The film is layered with lies, false identities, and hidden pasts. Characters are not who they seem, and the truth is revealed piece by painful piece. The audience, like Jake, is drawn into a web of misinformation and deceit, mirroring the labyrinthine nature of the case and of the power structures he’s investigating.

Incest and Generational Evil

Perhaps the most shocking revelation is the incestuous relationship between Noah Cross and his daughter Evelyn, which led to the birth of Katherine. This act represents a horrifying abuse of both familial and patriarchal power and cements Cross as a symbol of unchecked authority and moral decay. The emotional devastation of this reveal is amplified by Dunaway’s fragile yet fiercely protective performance.

Performances

Jack Nicholson delivers what is arguably the best performance of his career. As Jake Gittes, he balances charm, cynicism, and vulnerability. He’s a classic noir detective, but more human and emotionally involved than his predecessors. His increasing desperation as the case unravels speaks to a deeper moral conflict.

Faye Dunaway is enigmatic and tragic as Evelyn Mulwray. Her performance is a masterclass in restraint, revealing layers of trauma beneath her elegant exterior. Her final breakdown—“She’s my sister and my daughter!”—is one of the most gut-wrenching moments in cinema history.

John Huston, as Noah Cross, is chilling. With a grandfatherly smile and genteel manner, Huston infuses Cross with a quiet menace that makes his final revelation all the more disturbing. He represents a figure of patriarchal evil, untouchable by law or morality.

Direction and Style

Polanski’s direction is precise, moody, and immersive. He revives the visual grammar of classic noir—shadows, low angles, Venetian blinds—but updates it with a modern sensibility and colour cinematography. The film is bathed in golden sunlight, subverting the usual darkness of noir and suggesting that corruption in L.A. doesn’t hide in the shadows—it thrives in plain sight.

The infamous ending, which Polanski insisted on altering from Towne’s more optimistic draft, is a bleak final note that stays with viewers long after the credits roll. “Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown,” is one of cinema’s most famous lines—an encapsulation of nihilism, resignation, and the futility of justice.

Cinematography and Score

Cinematographer John A. Alonzo creates a striking visual world, rich with dusty tones and eerie beauty. The camera work emphasizes space, isolation, and observation—mirroring Jake’s role as a voyeur and truth-seeker.

Jerry Goldsmith’s score is iconic, with its melancholic trumpet melody evoking loss, nostalgia, and danger. Remarkably, Goldsmith composed the score in just ten days after the original one was rejected, yet it remains one of the film’s most memorable elements.

Legacy and Impact

Chinatown was a critical and commercial success, earning 11 Academy Award nominations and winning Best Original Screenplay. Its influence is vast—it inspired countless neo-noirs and investigative thrillers and remains a touchstone for screenwriters and filmmakers.

The film's bleak worldview, intricate plot, and emotional depth helped usher in a new era of Hollywood storytelling—more mature, morally ambiguous, and reflective of the political disillusionment of the 1970s. Its legacy was somewhat tarnished by the lacklustre 1990 sequel The Two Jakes, but Chinatown itself remains untouched in its brilliance.

Conclusion

Chinatown is not just a film—it’s a cultural artifact, a noir masterpiece that peers into the soul of a city and finds it hollowed out by greed and secrecy. It’s a film about the limits of justice and the consequences of confronting truth in a world built on lies.

Decades later, it remains as haunting, poignant, and unforgettable as ever.