Chinatown

 

 

Screenplay by       Robert Towne

 

Produced by       Bob Evans

 

Directed by       Roman Polanski

 

 

 

Cast List:

 

Jack Nicholson      J.J. Gittes

Faye Dunaway     Evelyn Mulwray

John Huston      Noah Cross

Perry Lopez     Escobar

John Hillerman      Yelburton

Darrell Zwerling    Hollis Mulwray

Diane Ladd      Ida Sessions

Roy Jenson      Mulvihill

Roman Polanski      Man with Knife

 

 

 

 

 

FULL SCREEN PHOTOGRAPH

 

Grainy but unmistakably a man and woman making love. Photograph shakes. SOUND of a man MOANING in anguish. The photograph is dropped, REVEALING ANOTHER, MORE compromising one. Then another, and another. More moans.

 

CURLY'S VOICE

(crying out)

Oh, no.

 

 

INT. GITTES' OFFICE

 

CURLY drops the photos on Gittes' desk. Curly towers over GITTES and sweats heavily through his workman's clothes, his breathing progressively more labored. A drop plunks on Gittes' shiny desk top.

 

Gittes notes it. A fan whiffs overhead. Gittes glances up at it. He looks cool and brisk in a white linen suit despite the heat. Never taking his eyes off Curly, he lights a cigarette using a lighter with a "nail" on his desk.

 

Curly, with another anguished sob, turns and rams his fist into the wall, kicking the wastebasket as he does. He starts to sob again, slides along the wall where his fist has left a noticeable dent and its impact has sent the signed photos of several movie stars askew.

 

Curly slides on into the blinds and sinks to his knees. He is weeping heavily now, and is in such pain that he actually bites into the blinds.

 

Gittes doesn't move from his chair.

 

GITTES

All right, enough is enough – you can't eat the Venetian blinds, Curly. I just had 'em installed on Wednesday.

 

Curly responds slowly, rising to his feet, crying. Gittes reaches into his desk and pulls out a shot glass, quickly selects a cheaper bottle of bourbon from several fifths of more expensive whiskeys.

 

Gittes pours a large shot. He shoves the glass across his desk toward Curly.

 

GITTES

– Down the hatch.

 

Curly stares dumbly at it. Then picks it up, and drains it. He sinks back into the chair opposite Gittes, begins to cry quietly.

 

CURLY

(drinking, relaxing a little)

She's just no good.

 

GITTES

What can I tell you, Kid? You're right. When you're right, you're right, and you're right.

 

CURLY

– Ain't worth thinking about.

 

Gittes leaves the bottle with Curly.

 

GITTES

You're absolutely right, I wouldn't give her another thought.

 

CURLY

(pouring himself)

You know, you're okay, Mr. Gittes. I know it's your job, but you're okay.

 

GITTES

(settling back, breathing a little easier)

Thanks, Curly. Call me Jake.

 

CURLY

Thanks. You know something, Jake?

 

GITTES

What's that, Curly?

 

CURLY

I think I'll kill her.

 

 

INT. DUFFY & WALSH'S OFFICE

 

Noticeably less plush than Gitte's. A well-groomed, dark-haired WOMAN sits nervously between their two desks, fiddling with the veil on her pillbox hat.

 

WOMAN

– I was hoping Mr. Gittes could see to this personally –

 

WALSH

(almost the manner of someone comforting the bereaved)

– If you'll allow us to complete our preliminary questioning, by then he'll be free.

 

There is the SOUND of ANOTHER MOAN coming from Gittes' Office – something made of glass shatters. The Woman grows more edgy.

 

 

INT. GITTES' OFFICE – GITTES & CURLY

 

Gittes and Curly stand in front of the desk, Gittes staring contemptuously at the heavy breathing hulk towering over him. Gittes takes a handkerchief and wipes away the plunk of perspiration on his desk.

 

CURLY

(crying)

They don't kill a guy for that.

 

GITTES

Oh they don't?

 

CURLY

Not for your wife. That's the unwritten law.

 

Gittes pounds the photos on the desk, shouting;

 

GITTES

I'll tell you the unwritten law, you dumb son of a bitch, you gotta be rich to kill somebody, anybody and get away with it. You think you got that kind of dough, you think you got that kind of class?

 

Curly shrinks back a little.

 

CURLY

... No...

 

GITTES

You bet your ass you don't. You can't even pay me off.

 

This seems to upset Curly even more.

 

CURLY

I'll pay the rest next trip – we only caught sixty ton of skipjack around San Benedict. We hit a chubasco, they don't pay you for skipjack the way they do for tuna or albacore –

 

GITTES

(easing him out of his office)

Forget it. I only mention it to illustrate a point...

 

 

INT. OFFICE RECEPTION

 

He's now walking him past SOPHIE who pointedly averts her gaze. He opens the door where on the pebbled glass can be read: "J. J. GITTES and Associates – DISCREET INVESTIGATION"

 

GITTES

I don't want your last dime.

 

He throws an arm around Curly and flashes a dazzling smile.

 

GITTES

(continuing)

What kind of guy do you think I am?

 

CURLY

Thanks, Mr. Gittes.

 

GITTES

Call me Jake. Careful driving home, Curly.

 

He shuts the door on him and the smile disappears.

 

He shakes his head, starting to swear under his breath.

 

SOPHIE

– A Mrs. Mulwray is waiting for you, with Mr. Walsh and Mr. Duffy.

 

Gittes nods, walks on in.

 

 

INT. DUFFY AND WALSH'S OFFICE

 

Walsh rises when Gittes enters.

 

WALSH

Mrs. Mulwray, may I present Mr. Gittes?

 

Gittes walks over to her and again flashes a warm, sympathetic smile.

 

GITTES

How do you do, Mrs. Mulwray?

 

MRS. MULWRAY

Mr. Gittes...

 

GITTES

Now, Mrs. Mulwray, what seems to be the problem?

 

She holds her breath. The revelation isn't easy for her.

 

MRS. MULWRAY

My husband, I believe, is seeing another woman.

 

Gittes looks mildly shocked. He turns for confirmation to his two partners.

 

GITTES

(gravely)

No, really?

 

MRS. MULWRAY

I'm afraid so.

 

GITTES

I am sorry.

 

Gittes pulls up a chair sitting next to Mrs. Mulwray – between Duffy and Walsh. Duffy cracks his gum.

 

Gittes gives him an irritated glance. Duffy stops chewing.

 

MRS. MULWRAY

Can't we talk about this alone, Mr. Gittes?

 

GITTES

I'm afraid not, Mrs. Mulwray. These men are my operatives and at some point they're going to assist me. I can't do everything myself.

 

MRS. MULWRAY

Of course not.

 

GITTES

Now – what makes you certain he is involved with someone?

 

Mrs. Mulwray hesitates. She seems uncommonly nervous at the question.

 

MRS. MULWRAY

– a wife can tell.

 

Gittes sighs.

 

GITTES

Mrs. Mulwray, do you love your husband?

 

MRS. MULWRAY

(shocked)

... Yes of course.

 

GITTES

(deliberately)

Then go home and forget about it.

 

MRS. MULWRAY

– but...

 

GITTES

(staring intently at her)

I'm sure he loves you, too. You know the expression, let sleeping dogs lie? You're better off not knowing.

 

MRS. MULWRAY

(with some real anxiety)

But I have to know.

 

Her intensity is genuine. Gittes looks to his two partners.

 

GITTES

All right, what's your husband's first name?

 

MRS. MULWRAY

Hollis. Hollis Mulwray.

 

GITTES

(visibly surprised)

– Water and Power?

 

Mrs. Mulwray nods, almost shyly. Gittes is now casually but carefully checking out the detailing of Mrs. Mulwray's dress – her handbag, shoes, etc.

 

MRS. MULWRAY

– he's the Chief Engineer.

 

DUFFY

(a little eagerly)

– Chief Engineer?

 

Gittes' glance tells Duffy Gittes wants to do the questioning. Mrs. Mulwray nods.

 

GITTES

(confidentially)

This type of investigation can be hard on your pocketbook, Mrs. Mulwray. It takes time.

 

MRS. MULWRAY

Money doesn't matter to me, Mr. Gittes.

 

Gittes sighs.

 

GITTES

Very well. We'll see what we can do.

 

 

EXT. CITY HALL – MORNING

 

Already shimmering with heat.

 

A drunk blows his nose with his fingers into the fountain at the foot of the steps.

 

Gittes, impeccably dressed, passes the drunk on the way up the stairs.

 

 

INT. COUNCIL CHAMBERS

 

Former Mayor SAM BAGBY is speaking. Behind him is a huge map, with overleafs and bold lettering:

 

"PROPOSED ALTO VALLEJO DAM AND RESERVOIR"

 

Some of the councilmen are reading funny papers and gossip columns while Bagby is speaking.

 

BAGBY

– Gentlemen, today you can walk out that door, turn right, hop on a streetcar and in twenty-five minutes end up smack in the Pacific Ocean. Now you can swim in it, you can fish in it, you can sail in it – but you can't drink it, you can't water your lawns with it, you can't irrigate an orange grove with it. Remember – we live next door to the ocean but we also live on the edge of the desert. Los Angeles is a desert community. Beneath this building, beneath every street there's a desert. Without water the dust will rise up and cover us as though we'd never existed!

(pausing, letting the implication sink in)

 

 

CLOSE – GITTES

 

sitting next to some grubby farmers, bored. He yawns – edges away from one of the dirtier farmers.

 

BAGBY (O.S.)

(continuing)

The Alto Vallejo can save us from that, and I respectfully suggest that eight and a half million dollars is a fair price to pay to keep the desert from our streets – and not on top of them.

 

 

AUDIENCE – COUNCIL CHAMBERS

 

An amalgam of farmers, businessmen, and city employees have been listening with keen interest. A couple of the farmers applaud. Somebody shooshes them.

 

 

COUNCIL COMMITTEE

 

In a whispered conference.

 

COUNCILMAN

(acknowledging Bagby)

– Mayor Bagby... let's hear from the departments again – I suppose we better take Water and Power first. Mr. Mulwray.

 

 

REACTION – GITTES

 

Looking up with interest from his racing form.

 

 

MULWRAY

 

Walks to the huge map with overleafs. He is a slender man in his sixties, who wears glasses and moves with surprising fluidity. He turns to a smaller, younger man, and nods. The man turns the overleaf on the map.

 

MULWRAY

In case you've forgotten, gentlemen, over five hundred lives were lost when the Van der Lip Dam gave way – core samples have shown that beneath this bedrock is shale similar to the permeable shale in the Van der Lip disaster. It couldn't withstand that kind of pressure there.

(referring to a new overleaf)

Now you propose yet another dirt banked terminus dam with slopes of two and one half to one, one hundred twelve feet high and a twelve thousand acre water surface. Well, it won't hold. I won't build it. It's that simple – I am not making that kind of mistake twice. Thank you, gentlemen.

 

Mulwray leaves the overleaf board and sits down. Suddenly there are some whoops and hollers from the rear of the chambers and a red-faced FARMER drives in several scrawny, bleating sheep. Naturally, they cause a commotion.

 

COUNCIL PRESIDENT

(shouting to farmer)

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