In the Heat of the Night

In the Heat of the Night is classified as a murder mystery, but it is truly a film that transcends genre. Many critics believe that it is a film that gave birth both to the civil rights film and the era of black-protagonist dramas, known as blaxploitation films, that became popular (Shaft, etc.) in the 1970s.  I believe, above all else, that Heat is a story about relationships-- specifically the one between the keen and graceful Detective Virgil Tibbs and the edgy outsider Police Chief Bill Gillespie.  The film is noted for its excellent cinematography and sound, which includes Ray Charles singing the movie's theme song, while critics agree that the film's finest qualities include the stellar performances from Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger as Tibbs and Gillespie, respectively. Steiger would win the Academy Award for Best Actor in 1968, and the film would controversially beat out The Graduate for Best Picture.  The movie itself is as suspenseful and gritty as I remember from my first viewing. Poitier's calm but intense presence relies on an economy of dialogue; when the man speaks, you listen to every punctuated syllable. Steiger's portrays a newly-hired police chief trying to solve a murder mystery inolving a visiting Chicagoan entrepreneur seeking to build a new factory in a Mississippi town divided by racial barriers that stretch from the resentful lower class whites who would compete with blacks for new jobs to the upper crust cotton growers and business men who hope to keep local blacks dependent on the cotton industry for meager subsistence wages.  Steiger is a volatile and subtly humorous hero. The plot itself requires careful attention to detail, and more than once both Gillespie and Tibbs "pin" the wrong man for the crime-- although the latter's error in judgment is clouded by personal motivations in trying to bring down a cotton kingpin. Gillespie is simply not the competent homicide detective that makes Tibbs' one of Philadelphia's finest police officers.  The plot leads to what many critics, both in the New York Times and Variety Magazine, feel is a disappointing ending. Tibbs discovers that a local hooligan murders the visiting businessman in order to finance his 16-year-old girlfriend's abortion. Undoubtedly the movie's finest scenes are the ones architected by director Norman Jewison and screenwriter Sterling Silliphant to explore the relationship between Gillespie and Tibbs and to present an honest portrayal of the Deep South and its racial tensions. No scene is more famous than the one in which Tibbs confronts cotton kingpin Eric Endicott about his possible involvement in the murder. When Endicott takes offense and slaps Tibbs across the face, the detective immediately slaps him back in retaliation as Gillespie and, notably, an older black servant look on. "What are you gonna do about it?" asks Endicott to Gillespie. "I don't know," responds the police Chief.  Ultimately, Gillespie backs Tibbs. While critics praised the honest and even aggressive depiction of this scene, black writer Thomas Dorsey and actor Vhing Rames provide insights into the reception of this scene and, implicitly, the movie itself in the African-American community. According to Dorsey, no one can understand the feeling of pride that a black person experienced when watching Poitier justly retaliate. In the same sentiment, Rhames notes in Poitier's biography that, at that moment (when he watched Tibbs slap Endicott) he knew what it meant to be a man, to do the right thing.  On a larger scale, critics note that while African-Americans comprised between 10 and 15% of the population in the 1960s, they accounted for nearly 30% of American moviegoers.  Poitier biographer Aram Goudsouzian notes that many in the movie industry attributed these statistics to the emergence of Poitier as star that rivaled Paul Newman at the box office.  Inferring further, many blacks felt empowered by Heat and Poitier.  But back to Tibbs and Gillespie: As the two men share drinks in the police chief's modest apartment near the film's ending, both share an honest moment of sadness and self-awareness. Both are unmarried and without children. Both are outsiders (Gillespie, as a new chief in an old town; Tibbs as an isolated black detective both in Philadelphia and in Mississippi). For Tibbs, in his sharp suit and with high intelligence and eloquence, he is not entirely at home in any community. He appears odd and out of place to the local African-American family with whom he stays while in Sparta. To whites, he is a black man living a white man's life.  Goodness, then, is the thread that Gillespie and Tibbs share outside of their isolation.  Tibbs is moral and just, seeking to put away a killer. Gillespie wants the same thing, and at certain moments in the film he makes a bold stand that preserves Tibbs' dignity and even his life. Ultimately Poitier's character appealed to all audiences because of his acting and the character's strength and commitment to doing the right thing, yet an article from the Comparative Studies department at Florida Atlantic University notes that his character is viewed by many as a flawed hero, one with which black moviegoers would applaud but could not associate on a personal level. This was a criticism prominent in many of his other movies, in which critics such as Pauline Kael note that Poitier conformed to the black man that suburban whites could coexist with. Critic Roger Ebert rejected this criticism of In the Heat of the Night, noting that Virgil Tibbs was a justly angry and fair symbol of the struggles going on in the summer of 1967 race riots that were happening right outside of the movie theatres where Heat captivated audiences. I look forward to reading and reflecting more about this film, and I will share these thoughts in the future. I am enjoying my readings on the race relations in the South, specifically during the 1940s at the present moment. Tomorrow I will begin research and preparations for To Kill A Mockingbird. Until then...