IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT: Blu-ray (The Mirisch Co., 1967) Criterion Collection

BEST PICTURE – 1967

The so-called ‘slap heard around the world’ came from director, Norman Jewison’s provocative police procedural thriller, In the Heat of the Night (1967) a super-charged melodrama about bigotry and hatred in the new south. For some time, the movies politely skirted any critique of race relations in America. But then, along came actor, Sidney Poitier – a ‘non-threatening’ portrait of black America to its white counterpart…at least, palpable enough to sell movie tickets. Poitier’s clout with audiences would prove far more potent and progressive than any of his contemporaries might have at first anticipated; his proudly defiant stance against authority in Blackboard Jungle; standing up to Richard Widmark’s maniacal racist in No Way Out (both made in 1950); fighting the good fight as Union soldier Ra-Ru in the antebellum potboiler, Band of Angels (1957), and, ever more than sidekick to Tony Curtis in The Defiant Ones (1958).  Poitier’s screen persona would begin to crystalize as he segued into a more congenial/though no less morally forthright custodian of America’s shifting cultural acceptance; as the harried caretaker to some progressive-thinking nuns in Lilies of the Field (1963) then, in an updated Goodbye, Mr. Chips school story, administering a firm hand, but kind word to wayward British teens in To Sir with Love, (1967). In the Heat of the Night affords Poitier the opportunity to sink his teeth - as well as his principles - into a powerful story addressing the volatility of race relations head on in sixties America.

There has never been, nor is there ever likely to be ‘another’ Sidney Poitier; In the Heat of the Night, the undeniable benefactor of Poitier’s affecting manly grace. Poitier’s great gift to cinema has always been his ability to cut through to the content of his characters, their moral ballast offset by a calm and forthright authority, unabashedly self-possessed, yet simultaneously never demonstrative. Poitier’s heroes plainly desire peace, hopefully through non-violence, but never shying away from conflict if no other recourse is possible. In a career of exemplary and breakout portraits, Virgil Tibbs is arguably Poitier’s finest. For it not only typifies his strengths as a performer, in hindsight, it also solidified Poitier’s place in the cinema firmament as the gateway of inspiration for so many black actors who followed in his footsteps thereafter. Poitier’s introduction to audiences was hardly auspicious. Indeed, he was rejected by audiences after joining the North American Negro Theater because he could not sing. Six months of personal investment eventually paid off, marking Poitier for an uninterrupted stream of steadily juicier roles in movies of distinction.

At the time of his Best Supporting Actor’s nomination for The Defiant Ones, Poitier could count himself among the select few who had broken through Hollywood’s race barrier and achieved noteworthy distinction in their craft, particularly in an era not readily supportive of black talent: the short list, James Baskett, receiving an Honorary Academy Award for Disney’s Song of the South in 1948, and, Hattie McDaniel, winning Best Supporting Actress in 1939's Gone with the Wind. Uncertain whether the honor was disingenuous, merely another way for the industry to glad-hand itself as adopting a more ‘progressive’ stance, while little remained unchanged, Poitier resented his subsequent typecasting as the idealized, soft-spoken appeaser. This too would change – slightly – after his stunning 1959 Broadway debut in A Raisin in the Sun; a role of grave complexity Poitier would reprise for the movie version in 1961 and follow up with memorable performances in The Bedford Incident and A Patch of Blue (both made and released in 1965). In many ways, In the Heat of the Night caps off Poitier’s golden age with a trifecta of stunning performances; the other two, in Guess Who's Coming to Dinner and To Sir, with Love. All three movies were released in this same year.

Some 50 years later, In the Heat of the Night remains a powerful entertainment. In reshaping John Ball’s original novel, screenwriter Stirling Silliphant astutely transposed the action to the fictional town of Sparta, Mississippi (actually, Sparta Illinois, to accommodate Poitier’s request that he not venture anywhere south of the Mason/Dixon line). Poitier did, in fact, acquiesce to Jewison’s need for a single shot of him riding in a car past a field of cotton pickers. Far from being accepted on their cinematic journey, cast and crew spent the bulk of their time hold up in seedy motels on the outskirts of town – the only establishments that would entertain a crowd of mixed ethnicity - with Poitier understandably edgy until it was time to go home. Silliphant’s rewrite holds close and true to the particulars of Ball’s novel, withholding none of its racially-charged social commentary, an indictment on white America’s contribution to its festering malaise. It is important to recall that movies prior to In the Heat of the Night did not have an opinion – unflattering or otherwise – about the climate of civil unrest, and indeed, Jewison’s primary concern in making In the Heat of the Night was that perhaps no one would want to see it. He had nothing to fear. In the Heat of the Night took audiences – and the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences - by storm. Viewed today, the picture moves with all the agility of a jungle cat let loose from its cage; the sparring between Poitier’s sternly forthright Tibbs and co-star, Rod Steiger’s bigoted police chief, Bill Gillespie, struggling with his own racial intolerance, crackles with a taut electricity, full of mood and meaning.

At least part of In the Heat of the Night’s success is owed composer, Quincy Jones, whose jazz-inspired underscoring elevates the general timber of the drama. It also afflicts the movie’s setting with a genuine odor of decay. This is not the gallant, romanticized or bucolic portrait of the South we are used to seeing in the movies. Stripped of its moonlight and magnolia, what remains is a dingy little backwater, overgrown in wild creepers and left to the mildew and rot of the hillbilly sect; spiteful, sinful and ugly, even at a glance. Despite its all-pervasive humidity, there is a distinct frost in the air for the likes of a Virgil Tibbs in these parts, so described by Gillespie as an ‘uppity nigger’, despite his superior intellect in matters of the law and the proper way to conduct a basic police procedural investigation into a murder. Yet, Tibbs superiority is utterly frowned upon by the establishment. By sheer vice and skin tone, he is arbitrarily defined as the ‘lesser’ in these bed-sheet boondocks. Listening to Jones’ slick and stylized, dissident and pulsating rhythm and blues, one is aurally catapulted into this gritty back of beyond with riffs and chords never before explored in movie underscoring. Even from today’s vantage, Jones’ score is a startling departure from the lush orchestral traditions of Hollywood’s middle-European influence, and, the perfect complement to the razor-backed friction portrayed with searing hot polarity in Silliphant’s loaded exchanges of dialogue throughout the movie.

Apart from its obvious ‘message’ of tolerance, miraculously achieved before the final fade out, In the Heat of the Night remains a superior drama on its own terms. So much is usually written about Poitier’s powerhouse, one is apt to set aside Rod Steiger’s counterpoint by default. Yet, Poitier’s impressive turn would be nothing at all without Steiger’s monumentally troubling distillation of an inherently ‘good’ cop, slowly revealed as likely – if not equally – a good person, socially afflicted by the steadily receding specter of racism. If Gillespie’s stirring from prejudice is perhaps a tad idealized, it never appears as anything less than genuine. And credit here is owed Steiger who, born without the ascribed matinee idol ‘good looks’ prized in Hollywood then as now, nevertheless managed to amass an impressive rogue’s gallery of performances, beginning with 1954’s costarring role in On the Waterfront; thereafter, appearing in such high-profile fair as Oklahoma! (1955), The Longest Day (1962), and, Doctor Zhivago (1965). Steiger was even more prolific in his television work at a time when TV was still regarded the red-headed stepchild to the movies. But in In the Heat of the Night, Steiger’s Gillespie must be considered, if not the catalyst for change, then certainly, its arbitrator, recognizing how the status quo – once blindly accepted as truth itself – has shifted, and, not long for this world. Is Gillespie the promise of the ‘new South’? Hardly. Does he acknowledge its moral turpitude as fragile and steadily crumbling? Undoubtedly. Will he encourage it to do so? Hmmmm. The complexity of Steiger’s role is oft interpreted, merely as the recipient of Tibbs’ enlightenment. But it goes deeper than that, and, for better or worse, Steiger’s seemingly impervious bigot at the start, nevertheless experiences a fairly epic conversion that challenges him to become a better man, and arguably, to adjudicate the content of every man’s character more wisely in the future.     

In the Heat of the Night opens on a muggy night in Sparta, Mississippi; police officer, Sam Wood’s (Warren Oates) making the grisly discovery of a body in an abandoned alley. It’s Philip Colbert (Jack Teter), a wealthy Chicago industrialist who had big plans to build a factory on the outskirts of town. Ordered by his superior, police chief, Bill Gillespie (Rod Steiger) to round up unusual looking suspects, Wood mistakenly arrests Virgil Tibbs, a northerner who, having just visited his sick mother, is waiting at the station platform for the midnight train to take him home. Discovering a considerable amount of cash in Tibbs’ possession, Wood and Gillespie both jump to the wrong conclusion. Tibbs murdered Colbert for the money. Their hunch is, of course, predicated on nothing more substantial than the fact Tibbs is a black man. In these parts, blacks are poor. The initial confrontation between Gillespie and Tibbs, leading up to the big reveal – that Tibbs is a Philadelphia homicide detective and therefore Gillespie’s equal – sets Gillespie off on a racial tirade. But Gillespie’s temper is brought to a boiling point when he recognizes he is quite unable to solve Colbert’s murder by himself. Cleared of suspicion, Tibbs is allowed a phone call to his superiors back home and is chagrined when they order him to stay on in Sparta to help solve the crime. The victim’s widow, Leslie Colbert (Lee Grant) welcomes Tibbs’ expertise. This, again, raises Gillespie’s dander considerably. But when Leslie threatens to stop construction on her late husband’s factory – badly needed to stabilize the locally depressed economy – a bitter détente is formed between Tibbs and Gillespie. Despite their shared animosities, the pair steadily evolve a mutual tolerance that unexpectedly advances to encompass respect in, and for, their jointly invested desire to wrap up the investigation.

Tibbs initially suspects wealthy plantation owner Eric Endicott (Larry Gates) of the crime. But are Tibbs’ suspicions motivated by the facts – that Endicott opposed the factory’s construction – or by his own prejudice toward this white man who is obviously a racist? Briefly, Silliphant’s screenplay offers a rather uncommon and shocking parallel between Endicott and Tibbs motives, punctuating what is ultimately recalled as In the Heat of the Night’s most explosive scene; the aforementioned ‘slap heard around the world’. In probing into Endicott’s opposition to Colbert’s factory on the old master’s plantation, a hothouse teeming with orchids, Tibbs inadvertently insights Endicott to strike him on the cheek; Tibbs’ reciprocating without hesitation. Even some fifty years later, this remains a devastating sequence of events; Tibbs’ penetrating glare triggering tears of indignation from Endicott – suddenly awakened to the realization the old ways of the South are no more – as Gillespie looks on with genuine surprise.  Endicott explains to Tibbs that there was a time he could have ordered him shot for this infraction. Instead, Tibbs and Gillespie leave the Endicott estate; Gillespie, more intent than ever to get Tibbs back on his train and out of town. But Tibbs has dug in his heals. He is as determined to see Endicott swing for the crime.  To expedite their investigation, Tibbs asks to tag along with Sam Wood as he retraces his patrol route on the night of the murder. Gillespie, Tibbs and Wood wind up at a greasy spoon on the outskirts of town where bumpkin/counterman, Ralph Henshaw (Anthony James), refuses to serve Tibbs. But Tibbs now turns his attentions to Wood whom he recognizes as having changed his route for their benefit.

Tibbs reveals the change in route to Gillespie, though not Wood’s motives for it, and this raises more than few red flags, particularly after Gillespie discovers a sizable deposit in Wood’s bank account, made the day after the murder. Meanwhile, redneck Lloyd Purdy (James Patterson) has decided to file rape charges against Wood for getting his sixteen-year-old sister, Delores (Quentin Dean) pregnant. Without hesitation – and regrettably lacking more proof than provocation - Gillespie arrests Wood on suspicion alone for Colbert’s murder.  Tibbs's strenuously objects and Purdy becomes incensed when he discovers Tibbs was present at Delores’ interrogation.  To justify his embarrassment, Purdy decides to assemble a lynch mob and exact his revenge on Tibbs. But Tibbs exonerates Wood of any wrong doing by investigating the construction site where he discovers pylons made of pine – the same kind as fragments found imbedded in Colbert’s scalp. He also points out to Gillespie that Wood could not have driven two cars at the same time; his own and another with Colbert’s body stuffed in the trunk and still have made his rounds on time.  Tibbs now explains to Gillespie that Wood changed his route to conceal the fact he enjoyed driving by Delores’ bedroom to catch a glimpse of her standing naked by the window. This is a perversion – though not a crime – and Gillespie has no alternative but to free Wood and rethink his case yet again.  Tibbs confides in Harvey Oberst (Scott Wilson), a simple-minded good ole boy incarcerated by Gillespie on a trumped-up charge. Tibbs needs to know where a young girl in trouble would go for an abortion. Harvey cannot remember the name, but has Tibbs get in contact with his friend, Packy (Matt Clark) who drives him to an out-of-the-way convenience store run by Mama Caleba (Beah Richards).

Tibbs confronts Caleba and is surprised when his hunch plays out. Delores arrives for her abortion. The scene culminates in a showdown between Tibbs, Henshaw, Purdy and his mob.  Realizing there is no way out but to reveal what he suspects, Tibbs tells Purdy that Delores has a crisp hundred in her purse for an abortion and that Henshaw – not Wood - is responsible for getting his sister pregnant. Henshaw nervously resists the implication. But Purdy investigates and finds the money in Delores handbag. Henshaw panics, shoots and kills Purdy before being disarmed by Tibbs. Shortly thereafter, Henshaw confesses in front of Gillespie to Colbert’s murder. It seems that in desperation for the abortion money, Henshaw confronted Colbert in a holdup, then accidentally shot him.  The case solved, Tibbs is escorted by Gillespie to the depot the next afternoon. Gillespie reveals his gratitude to Tibbs. The two men share a brief exchange, each acknowledging that neither could have wrapped up their investigation without the other.  As the train pulls out from the station, both Tibbs and Gillespie are forever changed by this time they spent together.

In many ways, In the Heat of the Night signaled Hollywood’s official joining the Civil Rights Movement. The film is more than mere acknowledgement of the changing social climate or even the holding up of a mirror to fan the flames of racial inequity soon to overpower the nation. In retrospect, the most remarkable aspect about the movie is its paralleling of mutual interests between Gillespie and Tibbs; the unlikeliest of compatriots on a mission that demands both their participation to crime solve successfully.  While many recall the underlying current of mutual animosity that buoys the first half of the story, In the Heat of the Night should also be remembered for its steadfast pursuit and exploration of the similarities rather than the differences between Tibbs and Gillespie – each, in his own way, an outsider to the world that surrounds them. Arguably, Rod Steiger's pompous ‘law man’ is the more impressive of the two; forced by Tibbs’ rock of certainty to rethink his die hard and misguided principles, gradually to recognize the flawed immensity of his peers’ severely racist attitudes. Producer, Walter Mirisch reportedly recognized the potential in John Ball’s novel immediately but had misgivings about whether United Artists would be willing to pick up his tab. Perhaps, Hollywood would play it safe. But no. After producing back to back hits for the studio, UA was more than interested in whatever properties Mirisch had to offer. And their gamble, like Jewison’s and Mirisch’s, paid off - handsomely. In the Heat of the Night won Oscars for Steiger’s searing hot performance and the most coveted award of all: Best Picture. In the late 1980’s, In the Heat of the Night enjoyed a successful prime time television series revival starring Carroll O’Connor, as a kinder/gentler Gillespie, and Howard Rollins, a more introspective Tibbs; the tempestuousness between these two, diffused to the more formulaic buddy-buddy hour-long drama format.

Criterion has re-issued In the Heat of the Night on Blu-ray in a transfer that is advertised as a ‘new 4K digital restoration’. There are marked differences in image quality between this disc and its previously flawed incarnation from MGM/Fox Home Video. For one, the horizontal stretching on the MGM has been rectified. So, no more needlessly puffy faces. Color fidelity too is greatly improved. In the Heat of the Night has always looked rather artificial, burgeoning on cartoon-ish on home video. Herein, colors appear more natural while still fully saturated. Flesh tones advance, adopting a warmer pallor that is likely in keeping with the locale.  Fine details impress and age-related artifacts, previously noted on the MGM release, have been eradicated for a smooth visual presentation. Best of all, the organic grain structure has been preserved without the digital harshness of its predecessor.  Criterion’s PCM mono marks a subtler difference to be sure, but nevertheless most welcome.  As expected, Criterion has padded out the extras, some previously available: an audio commentary from 2008, with Jewison, Grant, Steiger, and cinematographer, Haskell Wexler. New to Blu, separate interviews conducted this year with Norman Jewison and Lee Grant, plus 8-minutes from 2006’s American Film Institute interview with Sidney Poitier.  Also new, 18-minutes with University of Memphis’ Aram Goudsouzian, discussing the social significance of the piece. Vintage extras include 2008’s Turning Up the Heat: Movie-Making in the ’60s, and, Quincy Jones: Breaking New Sound, plus a theatrical trailer, and liner notes from critic, K. Austin Collins.  Bottom line: In the Heat of the Night is a seminal cinematic masterpiece. Criterion’s re-issue corrects the sins of far too many lackluster home video releases gone before it and compliments with a slew of meaningful extras. Very highly recommended!

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

4