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| A black northern detective (Sidney Poitier) reluctantly teams with a bigoted Southern police chief (Rod Steiger) to solve a murder. |
Release Date: Aug. 2, 1967. Running Time: 110 minutes. Screenplay: Stirling Silliphant. Based on the novel by: John Ball. Producer: Walter Mirisch. Director: Norman Jewison.
THE PLOT:
Bill Gillespie (Rod Steiger), the new police chief of Sparta, Mississippi, has a problem: Northern industrialist Philip Colbert has been murdered. Colbert came to Sparta with his wife (Lee Grant), intending to build a factory that would bring much needed jobs and businesses to the community. Now his wife is threatening to take all of her husband's machinery, jobs, and everything straight back to Illinois if the murder isn't solved.
For a moment, Gillespie believes this might actually be easy. A black man (Sidney Poitier) is found waiting at a train station, his wallet full of cash. This stranger is arrested on the spot and brought to the chief for questioning... only to reveal that he's a police officer from Philadelphia: Virgil Tibbs, described by his supervisor as a "homicide expert."
With pressure bearing down, Gillespie swallows his pride enough to ask Tibbs for help. But when the investigation brings them into the orbit of local plantation owner Eric Endicott (Larry Gates), who was bitterly opposed to the factory and the modernization it represented, Gillespie finds his position in danger - and for Tibbs, the danger is to his very life!
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| Tibbs shows his badge to a suspect. |
SIDNEY POITIER AS VIRGIL TIBBS:
Sidney Poitier was the #1 box office star of 1967, headlining three hit movies: Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, To Sir, with Love, and In the Heat of the Night. This is the best of that very good trio, and it may well be the finest performance of his career.
Poitier was conscious of his status as Hollywood's first mainstream black star, and he took care to take roles that would show African Americans in a dignified light. "If the fabric of the society were different, I would scream to high heaven to play villains and to deal with different images of Negro life that would be more dimensional... but I'll be damned if I do that at this stage of the game." This did impose limits, with many of his roles being idealized, "too perfect" people.
Tibbs is anything but perfect. He's not merely prideful but genuinely arrogant, clearly viewing himself as superior to the hick cops surrounding him. There's also a near-constant undercurrent of (entirely understandable) anger. He keeps it as buttoned down as his suit, but you can hear the strain in his voice. It simmers in the background throughout, until he finally loses his temper at the worst possible moment.
These were notes Poitier didn't often get to play - and because of them, Tibbs ends up feeling more complete as a person than many of his '50s and '60s characters. Tibbs has to overcome his own flaws as well as the prejudice of others, and that makes his victory in solving the crime more meaningful. Poitier's performance crackles with energy, and I think being freed to be just a bit angrier, a little more stubborn, and even a touch unlikable probably felt good after years of being "perfectly dignified."
Rod Steiger won the Best Actor Oscar that year. But I'm not 100% sure that the award shouldn't have gone to Poitier.
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| Gillespie is under pressure to solve the crime quickly. |
ROD STEIGER AS CHIEF BILL GILLESPIE:
In fairness to Rod Steiger, though, I'm not 100% sure that he didn't deserve every bit of the award that he won.
At a glance, Gillespie is Tibbs's opposite. He has none of Tibbs's education or expertise. Everything he knows he learned by working as a cop, probably in towns not dissimilar to Sparta. That doesn't make him bad at his job. When a suspect attempts to flee, the other deputies chase him on foot, quickly losing ground. Gillespie just waits in his car near the bridge to Arkansas. When the young man attempts to run to the safety of another state, he puts the car in gear and drives calmly up behind him until the younger man gives in to the inevitable.
While Tibbs keeps his emotions in check, Gillespie has a hair-trigger temper that he lets loose at Tibbs and his deputies alike. This makes Steiger's performance seem broad on the surface, and it's also responsible for many of the film's funnier moments. Beneath the surface, though, there's a lot of subtlety.
Steiger uses his physicality in a way that reminds me a little of Broderick Crawford in All the King's Men. Like Crawford, he's not ashamed to push his stomach out, actually making that a part of Gillespie's physical presence. He keenly feels how tenuous his job is, observing in a rare contemplative moment that this town "don't want me." Also, if you watch his expressions when he's not speaking, he is constantly reacting, processing whatever he's seeing or hearing even when he says nothing.
Gillespie is bigoted, though probably more due to upbringing than any strong hatred within himself. He recognizes Tibbs's expertise and accepts his help, however much he'd rather not. But what finally pierces his bigotry has nothing to do with any of Tibbs's frequent displays of competence and intelligence. Instead, it's the moment that Tibbs finally lets go of the tight reign he keeps on his emotions.
After Tibbs loses his temper with plantation owner Endicott, he momentarily stops caring who killed Colbert. Tibbs decides that Endicott is guilty because he wants Endicott to be guilty: "I can pull that fat cat down, I can bring him down right off this hill!" Gillespie stares in wonder for a moment before responding: "Man, you're just like the rest of us."
Instead of gloating at Tibbs's loss of control, Steiger instead delivers the line with wonder. This isn't a "win" for Gillespie to crow about: It's a moment of realization that Tibbs is a full human being, with all the faults and pride and pettiness that entails.
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| Deputy Sam Wood (Warren Oates) makes a gruesome discovery. |
OTHER CHARACTERS:
Officer Sam Wood: As the deputy who discovers the body, Warren Oates is as good as always as a seedy, slightly pathetic sort. Before he finds the body, Sam drives by a house where a young woman wanders around naked in her kitchen, and there's a clear sense that this peeping is a nightly ritual. He not only doesn't question Tibbs when he finds him at the train station; he specifically orders Tibbs not to speak, making the threat clear. Despite this, Sam shows no resistance to Tibbs's presence in the investigation. In many ways, he and the other deputies show more respect to him than they do to Gillespie. This may be because they can see Tibbs's obvious expertise; or it may be because they know he will soon be gone, making him easier to tolerate than the other outsider who's likely to be staying.
Mrs. Colbert: The victim's widow, and Tibbs's champion in the investigation. She witnesses a disagreement between Tibbs and Gillespie, with Gillespie so desperately wanting the suspect in custody to be guilty that he argues with Tibbs over evidence that exonerates him. She is appalled, from that point on seeing Gillespie as someone who wants to make a "cover-up arrest" rather than genuinely solve the crime. She makes clear that the factory will only remain in Sparta if Tibbs is given a free hand. Lee Grant only has a few scenes, likely totaling less than ten minutes, but she registers strongly in that time.
Endicott: Actor Larry Gates registers even more strongly in a single scene. The owner of the cotton plantation that oversees the town, Endicott is an obvious suspect because Colbert's factory represented a threat to his power. He is genially patronizing to Tibbs, so cocooned in his own privilege that it takes most of the scene for him to realize that he's being questioned as a suspect. Then he becomes incensed at the temerity of a black man to question him, snapping: "There was a time when I could have had you shot!"
Mayor Schubert: Gillespie's main ally in the local government, though he's hardly a reliable one. The scenes between Gillespie and Schubert indicate that he was probably responsible for the new chief's hiring. Schubert encourages Gillespie to take advantage of Tibbs's experience, stressing how important it is that this crime be solved quickly. But after Endicott becomes upset, Schubert warns Gillespie that it will be hard to save his job in the wake of the wealthy man's displeasure.
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| Tibbs questions wealthy plantation owner Eric Endicott (Larry Gates). It does not go well. |
THE SLAP HEARD 'ROUND THE WORLD:
Tibbs's encounter with Endicott may be the best scene in a movie filled with excellent scenes. Tibbs tries to build rapport with the old racist by admiring his flowers and listening while the man draws a clumsy analogy between them and black people. When Endicott finally realizes that the two officers must be here for a reason and asks why, Tibbs does not immediately jump in. He looks over at Gillespie a couple of times, obviously recognizing that it would be best if the local police chief took the lead instead of him. It's only when Gillespie remains silent that Tibbs moves forward with direct questioning.
All of this already terrific. Then Endicott abruptly slaps Tibbs - and Tibbs instantly returns the slap, to the shock of both Endicott and Gillespie.
This simply cannot carry the same weight today as in 1967. It's still a strong moment. We can appreciate the impact of Tibbs's retaliation on Endicott and Gillespie. We can understand that of course a prideful character like Tibbs would, upon being slapped, return the gesture. We can even intellectually see how unthinkable this moment would have been at the time.
But in 1967, it was shocking. Journalist Steve Ryfle notes in his article, Desegrating Hollywood: The Impact and Legacy of "In the Heat of the Night", that this was the first time a mainstream studio film showed such an act from an African American character without that defiance being punished. It was even more startling because of Poitier's screen persona. Up to this point, Tibbs mostly seems like a slightly angrier and less likable variant of Poitier's usual characters: intellectual and non-threatening. Then comes the slap, with all of Tibbs' simmering anger emerging in a single act of physical defiance.
The scene might have ended there, after Gillespie refuses to take the retribution that Endicott clearly expects him to. Instead, the script adds two fantastic additional moments. Endicott weeps after the detectives leave, mourning that the world he's cherished is dying if it isn't dead already. Then Tibbs, suddenly focused fully on Endicott to the point that he isn't even considering other possibilities, prompts Gillespie's realization of Tibbs's humanity.
Without these moments, it would still be a great scene. With them, the scene is an absolute masterpiece of both writing and acting.
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| The victim's widow (Lee Grant) doesn't trust Gillespie to investigate properly. |
OTHER MUSINGS:
In the Heat of the Night is a classic example of how captivating it is when a "great" movie remembers to work first and foremost as good entertainment.
This is a movie that deals with Big, Important Themes (TM). The racism Tibbs faces is the strongest and most obvious, but the script touches on all sorts of divisions. There's the divide between rich and poor: Mrs. Colbert's position allows her to dictate aspects of the investigation; Endicott's makes him a headache for Gillespie even before Tibbs antagonizes him. There's the divide between north and south, represented not only by Gillespie and Tibbs but also by Endicott and Colbert. There's the divide of past vs. present, with Endicott wanting to stay in the past and resenting Colbert and Tibbs, both of whom represent a future that he wants no part of. The script keeps returning, over and over, to the ways in which we divide ourselves: insiders vs. outsiders, educated vs. not, rich vs. poor, and black vs. white.
But none of that ever comes at the expense of this being a thoroughly entertaining and well-told story.
For one thing, this movie is funny. The biggest laughs come from Rod Steiger, who perfectly plays Gillespie's reactions as his bad week keeps insisting on getting worse. He's all swagger when he thinks that Tibbs is his killer - only to deflate like a popped balloon when Tibbs produces his badge. He calls in Officer Wood to rub his mistake in his face. The reactions of both actors are comedy gold: Warren Oates boggles at the badge like it's an artifact from Mars, while Steiger invests hilarious levels of scorn into a cry of: "Yeah - Oh, yeah!" I was left stopping the movie for a moment so that I wouldn't miss dialogue around my laughter.
Stirling Silliphant's screenplay is meticulously structured, with practically every scene used to develop both story and characters. A frustrated Gillespie jails Tibbs, demonstrating all his worst aspects: bigotry (it's the only scene in which he drops the "n" word), a willingness to make an easy arrest and call the case closed, and even his short temper. But instead of some protracted racial abuse, Tibbs is just taken back to the holding cells... where he shows his own intelligence by using this opportunity to draw information from the suspect.
For the most part, this is how the script develops characters: through their interactions and their reactions to events. There's no specific dialogue drawing attention to Gillespie and his deputies coming to accept Tibbs. We just gradually see them stop resisting his presence, with some of the deputies extending respect surprisingly quickly while others take longer to do so. By the end, when Gillespie makes an arrest, the deputies actually stop to ask Tibbs if he thinks the person is guilty, something they wouldn't have done earlier in the story.
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| "I've got a town that don't want me." Gillespie, in a moment of contemplation. |
REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:
Author John Ball wrote several additional Virgil Tibbs mysteries. Inexplicably, none of these books became the basis for the movie sequels, which I suspect were much the poorer for it.
They Call Me Mister Tibbs! (1970) is a competent but forgettable programmer that plays more like a TV pilot than a theatrical film. It's serviceable enough on its own terms, particularly if you fast-forward through the godawful boring scenes involving Tibbs's wife and kids, but it's all as predictable as could be. The Organization (1971) at least feels like a movie, opening with a wonderfully directed, dialogue-free break-in. It also features a good early role for future star Raul Julia. Sadly, it gets progressively sillier as it goes along, and not even in a fun way.
Both films suffer from a severely watered down Virgil Tibbs. Poitier's still good, but the character isn't. All that simmering anger and arrogance that make him so memorable? Those are stripped away, leaving behind a generic detective who feels like "Virgil Tibbs in name only." If you told me the studio just dusted off a couple of "cop thriller" scripts in a slush pile and renamed the hero as "Virgil Tibbs," I would fully believe you.
A more worthy successor was the 1988 - 1995 TV series, In the Heat of the Night, starring Carroll O'Connor as Gillespie and Howard E. Rollins as Tibbs. It's certainly not the equal of the movie, but that would be an unreasonable expectation. It's a good show of its era, with solid performances by its two stars, and it features several fine individual episodes... though the two main characters have had their edges sanded down significantly for television, and the show frequently lapses into the exact kind of heavy-handedness that the 1967 film avoided.
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| Tibbs is torn between investigating and leaving Sparta to its own devices and returning home. |
OVERALL:
Flaws in this movie are minor. There's a brief scene that I think should have been removed, in which the mayor and Gillespie talk with the city council about the investigation. The scene adds no new information, and it features what may be the only really heavy-handed moment as a city councilman grins while predicting that Tibbs will be dead by Saturday (using the "n" word, of course). This is made worse by the overacting of the councilman.
There's also a bizarre change from the novel. The book doesn't telegraph the murderer, but it does clearly connect that character to the crime. The movie doesn't. As a viewer, you can guess the killer by applying the "economy of characters" rule - but in story terms, the movie gives no clue that this person even could be involved.
Neither of these keep In the Heat of the Night from being an excellent motion picture. It's superbly paced and wonderfully entertaining even as it grapples with significant themes. Still, taken together, these faults are just enough to keep me from awarding full marks.
Leaving the film still at a very strong rating of...
Rating: 9/10.
Best Picture - 1966: A Man for All Seasons
Best Picture - 1968: Oliver!
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