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Mike Wilmington

By Mike Wilmington Wilmington@moviecitynews.com

Wilmington on DVDs. Chinatown.

Chinatown (Four Stars)
U.S.; Roman Polanski, 1974 (Paramount)

“Forget it Jake. It’s Chinatown.”
Those are the last words — chilling, evocative, wised up — of Roman Polanski and Robert Towne’s Chinatown — that great dark tale of politics, murder, and family secrets in ‘30s Los Angeles. No matter what you think of Polanski and his arrest and extradition problems — and I bet they’re more complex than most of the  cut-and-dried “He’s persecuted” or “He’s a fugitive schmuck”  analyses offered by friends or foes — the director’s 1974 private eye movie classic Chinatown is still some kind of masterpiece of neo-noir.

The movie, one of the big commercial-critical hits of its era, was a career peak for director Polanski, the matchless screenwriter Towne, and the superb star team of  Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway and John Huston.

It‘s a picture that seems close to perfect of its kind and one of the ‘70s films I love best. Gorgeous and terrifying and sometimes funny as hell, Chinatown tells a romantic/tragic/murder mystery tale of official crimes and personal corruption raging around the real-life L. A. Water scandal, with private sin and public swindles steadily stripped bare by J. J. Gittes (one of Jack Nicholson‘s signature roles), a cynical, natty, smart-ass Hammetesque shamus, with a nose for corruption and a hot-trigger temper.

Gittes is an anti-Philip Marlowe detective. He’s proud of taking divorce cases (Marlowe disdained them), and he’s not too queasy about selling out. He’s also much less sexually reticent than Raymond Chandler’s pipe-smoking knight of the mean streets — though he cracks just as wise. Fundamentally, Gittes is a survivor. He likes his nose, he likes breathing through it, but he finds it increasingly hard to keep it unbloodied and out of rich L. A. people’s business as he keeps digging deeper into what starts as a simple infidelity investigation and then broadens to include a vast conspiracy, intertwined with the deadly history of immaculately evil nabob Noah Cross (played by the devilishly genial Huston) and his desperate, wounded daughter Evelyn Mulwray (Dunaway) — a nasty web that includes Polanski himself as the cocky little fedora-topped Cross torpedo (with a Polish accent) who calls Gittes “Kitty-Kat” and slices up his proboscis for a memento mori.

Chinatown — with splendid Richard Sylbert production design, gleaming John Alonso cinematography and a really haunting Jerry Goldsmith score — wafts us back to L. A., downtown and Silverlake in the ‘30s: the era of  the Depression and jazzman Bunny Berigan‘s sardonic lament “I Can‘t Get Started.” It was also the heyday, of course, of the hard-boiled, lean and mean “Black Mask” style  thrillers of Dashiell Hammett and Chandler, hard-boiled, high-style fiction that Towne, at his absolute best, pastiches to a fine turn and that Polanski, at his best ( the championship form of Cul-de-Sac and The Pianist) makes come shatteringly alive.

The movie has great dialogue, great acting, great direction, and an unmatchable blend of wised-up savvy and yearning romanticism. The bleak ending (Polanski‘s idea) cuts you to the heart. Temper tantrum virtuoso Nicholson has some of his best blowups. And The supporting cast — Polanski, Burt Young, Diane Ladd, Perry Lopez, Dick Bakalyan, Roy Jenson, James Hong, Bruce Glover, Joe Mantell and John Hillerman (at his smarmiest) — are pretty damned wonderful too.

In fact, this is a movie that — not counting Gittes’ slit nose — has no perceptible flaws: a classic you won’t, can’t, never will, ever forget. Chinatown reminds you of how jack Nicholson single-handedly almost, shifted the ground of the movies, and changed our conception of what a movie star was, in the early ’70s. It reminds you of how vulnerable faye Dunaway ciould be, of what a sly old movie fox John Huston was. It reminded you of how great films can be when they have really wonderful, beautifuklly crafted, verbally agile scripts (like Towne’s here). And it reminds you that Polanski is a filmmaker who’s maybe faced such terror, darkness and despair in his own life — from the Holocaust to personal tragedy –that he can, brilliantly and memorably, turn fear into art.

2 Responses to “Wilmington on DVDs. Chinatown.”

  1. Nic says:

    second that notion

  2. Mimi says:

    I’ve always felt that Chinatown and LA Confidential are two of the most perfect films ever made. I already own DVD’s of both and watch them at least once every few months to remind myself that good movies can be made, just aren’t any more.

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Wilmington

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“Let me try and be as direct as I possibly can with you on this. There was no relationship to repair. I didn’t intend for Harvey to buy and release The Immigrant – I thought it was a terrible idea. And I didn’t think he would want the film, and I didn’t think he would like the film. He bought the film without me knowing! He bought it from the equity people who raised the money for me in the States. And I told them it was a terrible idea, but I had no say over the matter. So they sold it to him without my say-so, and with me thinking it was a terrible idea. I was completely correct, but I couldn’t do anything about it. It was not my preference, it was not my choice, I did not want that to happen, I have no relationship with Harvey. So, it’s not like I repaired some relationship, then he screwed me again, and I’m an idiot for trusting him twice! Like I say, you try to distance yourself as much as possible from the immediate response to a movie. With The Immigrant I had final cut. So he knew he couldn’t make me change it. But he applied all the pressure he could, including shelving the film.”
James Gray

“I’m an unusual producer because I control the destiny of a lot of the films I’ve done. Most of them are in perfect states of restoration and preservation and distribution, and I aim to keep them in distribution. HanWay Films, which is my sales company, has a 500-film catalogue, which is looked after and tended like a garden. I’m still looking after my films in the catalogue and trying to get other people to look after their films, which we represent intellectually, to try to keep them alive. A film has to be run through a projector to be alive, unfortunately, and those electric shadows are few and far between now. It’s very hard to go and see films in a movie house. I was always involved with the sales and marketing of my films, right up from The Shout onwards. I’ve had good periods, but I also had a best period because the film business was in its best period then. You couldn’t make The Last Emperor today. You couldn’t make The Sheltering Sky today. You couldn’t make those films anymore as independent films. There are neither the resources nor the vision within the studios to go to them and say, “I want to make a film about China with no stars in it.”Then, twenty years ago, I thought, “OK, I’m going to sell my own films but I don’t want to make it my own sales company.” I wanted it to be for me but I wanted to make it open for every other producer, so they don’t feel that they make a film but I get the focus. So, it’s a company that is my business and I’m involved with running it in a certain way, but I’m not seen as a competitor with other people that use it. It’s used by lots of different producers apart from me. When I want to use it, however, it’s there for me and I suppose I’m planning to continue making all my films to be sold by HanWay. I don’t have to, but I do because it’s in my building and the marketing’s here, and I can do it like that. Often, it sounds like I’m being easy about things, but it’s much more difficult than it sounds. It’s just that I’ve been at it for a long time and there’s lots of fat and security around my business. I know how to make films, but it’s not easy—it’s become a very exacting life.”
~ Producer Jeremy Thomas