Release Year: 1974

Genre: Drama, Mystery, Thriller

Director: Roman Polanski

Writer: Robert Towne

Stars: Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway, John Huston

Chinatown: a movie where a man's nose is split in two with a jackknife. A movie where a woman ends up with a bloody hole where her eye had been. Where friendly farmers wield guns. Where private investigators are jaded. Where nothing is what it seems… because of some seriously shady goings-on.

Some shady goings-on due to a fight over…water rights.

Not guns. Not drugs. Not turf. Water.

But before you start yawning and dismissing Chinatown as a bureaucratic procedural, remember that, historically, basic elements (like good ol' H2O) have been at the forefront of many a battle. The Falklands War—which resulted in over 900 deaths—was a dispute over a few hunks of barely-inhabited South Atlantic rock. The Iraq War—which resulted in at east 500,000 deaths—can be interpreted as "a war for oil."

And Chinatown is based in a skirmish as real-deal as the Iraq War—it's inspired by a fight between the City of Los Angeles and farmers in the Owen Valley after L.A. diverted the river that fertilized the valley to satisfy its own water needs. (Source)

But still—who knew that a movie about the 1920s California "Water Wars" would end up being a timeless masterpiece?

Screenwriter Robert Towne knew. The screenplay of Chinatown, which is Robert Towne's original brainchild, is often hailed as one of the best screenplays ever written. But he has to give some cred to director Roman Polanski, who added some very Polanski-esque darkness to an already emotionally pitch-black script…and helped make it the iconic downer it is today.

Here's the gist:

Chinatown takes the classic, seedy L.A. film noir and makes it even seedier. We see things all noir fans know and love: the slick P.I., the mysterious lady who might be a murderer, and corruption in high places. But the movie's dark secret turns out to be even darker and more messed up than you'd ever expect. Even if you're the type of person who knows whodunit at the beginning of every Liam Neeson revenge movie, you're in for a (nasty) surprise.

Today, the movie is held up both because it's such an awesome example of neo-noir and because it's regarded as such near-perfect story. In fact, a lot of people think of it as "the last great film noir," one of the "greatest American crime movies" and the best film ever made.

Not too shabby for a movie that's based on a tiff over something as seemingly basic as water.

What we're about to say makes us sound like the black turtleneck-wearing kid who comes in late to class stinking of unfiltered French cigarettes. We're about to sound more bleaktastic than all of Steig Larsson's books put together.

You should care about Chinatown because it exposes the darkest parts of human nature.

We know; we know. How pretentious does that sound? (Answer: super-pretentious.)

But we're sticking with our guns—and not just because, when it comes to Chinatown, you do not want to be caught without your gun. And not only that, we're going to break down Chinatown's importance into three separate categories.

Human Nature Is Dark: Narrative Edition

On the narrative level, this is a screenplay about basically the worst things that people can do to other people. You got your water stealing. You got your corruption. You got your nostril slitting. You have murder, murder, and more murder. And you have what is one of the biggest, more upsetting twists in film history.

And the reason why the Big Bads in Chinatown are doing Big Bad Things? It's not for money—the baddie is a super-rich guy. It's not to make his life better—our villain is so old he's one foot in the grave. It's for pure power. We're going to let the antagonist speak for himself:

GITTES: Then why are you doing it? How much better can you eat? What can you buy that you can't already afford?

CROSS: The future, Mr. Gittes—the future.

Yeah. This is a movie about people doing bad things because they want power after they're dead.

But the human-nature-is-a-nest-of-snakes stuff doesn't end there.

Human Nature Is Dark: Director Edition

Originally, the ending of Chinatown was supposed to be mildly uplifting. There was some triumph—not much, but a smidge.

Director Roman Polanski did away with all of that.

We can't think about Chinatown without thinking about ol' Roman. This is a man who survived the Holocaust as a child. Then he found fame in Hollywood, only to have his wife and unborn child—along with four other people— murdered by the Manson family in one of the most infamous crimes of the 20th Century. (Source)

And then he directed Chinatown. It's impossible to watch this film without thinking about the violence that plagued Polanski's life.

(Today, it's also impossible to not think about the fact that Polanski raped a thirteen-year-old girl in 1977, three years after Chinatown was released—but we're just going to stick to talking about the events in Polanski's life leading up to the filming of Chinatown.) (Source)

Human Nature Is Dark: Audience Edition

But that brings us to the most insidious part of why you should care about Chinatown: the fact that the audience is watching all this violence go down (and thinking about Polanski's trauma) with bated breath.

Neither the violence onscreen or the violence in Polanski's bio would be worth noting if…it weren't noted so freaking often. Not only are articles still being published about how "the motif of violence [in Chinatown] reflects Polanski's personal history," but so are movie reviews.

That shows us that, when we watch Chinatown, we're still thinking about real trauma and violence even when we see the Technicolor blood spurt onscreen. And not only that, but we're obsessed with thinking about the real life events that inspire art—especially if they're super-upsetting.

So there you go, Shmoopers. Chinatown is a movie about sick things happening, directed by a man whose life was informed by sick things happening. And it's still being watched (and adored) by people who are deeply affected by sick things happening both on- and off-screen.