A Character Study on J.J. Gittes
After watching Chinatown last night, I knew I had to see it again. This is an elegant and classy film. An homage to an era of filmmaking so long gone, only a buff would know this was considered an homage at the time of its release. I think this film holds its own against The Maltese Falcon (made 30+ years earlier), and for my tastes, is far more compelling. But the true reason I knew the film had to be rewatched was thanks to the performances of our two leads, Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway.
The two are polar opposites in the way their characters express emotions. Nicholson’s Gittes keeps a tight lid on his inner monologue, whilst Dunaway’s Evelyn allows a range of conflicting emotions to compete at once. You can unpack their line delivery, facial expressions, and tone and continue to discover new meaning—especially on a second viewing once the true plot is known and the mystery gone. So, as a study for character development in my own work, I rewatched the film under the pretence of unpacking the enigma of Gittes’ character. Whilst Dunaway’s take on Evelyn is also deserving of dissection, her motivations become crystal clear on the second viewing—whilst Gittes’ remain shrouded.
Jake J.J. Gittes is a fascinating character. What compels him to act in the strange and confident manner that he does? What outer self has he constructed to interact with the world, and what events created it? Gittes is a man of his own making. We rarely see behind the mask, but it’s clear from the way he carries himself that he believes he’s the smartest person in any room. Even when he doesn’t have the answers, he fills the space as though he does, forcing others to play catchup. Even when they’re ahead, Gittes dictates the rhythm of the conversation. He interacts with the world as if he’s always one step ahead, and the only person who knows otherwise is himself. If you held a gun to his head, I imagine his internal monologue would play out something like: If they’re gonna shoot me, they’re gonna shoot me, but I’ll be pretty peeved to die at the hands of a worthless, brainless gun-for-hire. He’s in control until he isn’t. And when he loses control, he submits to the reality of the situation, accepting that there’s little to be done. This isn’t to say he doesn’t feel fear—he does—but only when it’s clear the worst outcome is already set in motion. Then, at the last moment, when the stakes are absolute, he acts. Decisively.
Gittes has no patience for stupidity. Minor obstacles irritate him. Bureaucracy, incompetence, time-wasters—all draw out his sharpest barbs, small glimpses behind the mask. He’s a confident man in a cynical world. He knows the playbook well, has seen it all before, and is rarely surprised. He thinks quickly, but he’s also self-aware enough to know when he’s overthinking and can shrug the thought off just as easily. Beneath all of this, there is a bedrock of compassion. But compassion has failed him before.
In personal matters and business, he doesn’t concern himself with ethical dilemmas, because to him, they aren’t dilemmas. They’re minor inconveniences. He knows that no rule is so rigid it can’t be bent or broken, especially when he’s always one step ahead. But when it comes to his clients, he follows a personal code. You don’t screw over the people who pay you. You treat them with dignity. This is a man who has convinced himself his work is above board—more than a greaseball handling dirty laundry. He never charges a dollar more than quoted. He might even believe his work is fulfilling. He had to leave the police force, so why waste the skills he spent years developing? Perhaps he tells himself he can do more good outside the system. More likely, he knows the system is rigged, and he operates within its margins for a paycheck, a fine suit, and the occasional intellectual challenge. The system is the system. You can’t fix a broken horse.
There is clear contempt for the police force he once served. He ridicules the lieutenant for his little gold bar. He sees rank and hierarchy as nothing more than an obstruction to justice. But in the end, his own hubris betrays him. Gittes allows himself to fall for a woman again, as he did once before in Chinatown. A woman central to the case. He believes this time will be different. That this time, he can save her. Or maybe he never truly loved her at all. Maybe he saw the parallel to his past and sought redemption.
But in the end, he can’t save her. Why?
“Because this is Chinatown.”
“Chinatown,” the phrase more than the place, is symbolic of American greed and corruption. The power of wealth and the insignificance of those crushed beneath it. He left the force because the system failed, because he saw how it failed in Chinatown. The real criminals got away. The ending confirms what he always suspected. The bad guys win. They win because there is no Chinatown. There is only America. I imagine Gittes heartbroken, but some weeks later, returning to work as if the whole affair never happened. Before opening the door to his next client, he takes a mental note.
Don’t fall in love again.
This is Chinatown.
