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Reclaiming Black Autonomy in In the Heat of the Night

Samantha Thompson 

 

Police officers arrest Tibbs (Sidney Portier) upon his arrival in Sparta, Mississippi in In the Heat of the Night.

 

The 1960s saw rapid and radical change across many frontiers in the United States. Sweeping a variety of social dilemmas, ranging from anti-war to counterculture movements, was a spirit of revolutionary change charged by pivotal historical moments. One of the most transformational events of the decade was the Civil Rights Movement. The movement commenced officially in the mid-1950s and persisted throughout the next decade. In this time, the turbulent quest to end racial segregation and discrimination ignited a mixture of sentiments. In response to these developments toward the end of the 1960s, audiences had new expectations for Black representation in film. Pacifying, non-threatening Black characters were losing resonance with Black audiences, who, instead, were turning towards more explicit depictions of Black power as the new decade approached (Gateward 170). Sidney Poitier found resounding success as a film actor while embodying these appeasing, benign representations of Blackness, often in situations that romanticized racial relations. But, as the resonance of these depictions faded towards the turn of the decade, In the Heat of the Night (Jewison, 1967) allowed Poitier to express more defiant attitudes while maintaining his signature acting style. The controlled intensity Poitier brings to Virgil Tibbs and strategic use of camera distance, specifically in moments where he is touching white bodies, subverts previous representations of Black and white dynamics onscreen. 

Through the thick, soulful belting of Ray Charles, In the Heat of the Night opens as Virgil Tibbs gets off a train and enters the dark and sweaty world of Sparta, Mississippi. There has been a murder, and Mr. Tibbs has arrived just in time to be a suspect. As he is taken into custody, Jewison establishes one of the most vital elements of the film: Poitier’s cool, toned demeanor that lends Mr. Tibbs a silent superiority and immediately offers him an upper hand. He doesn’t say much because he doesn’t need to — at least not until he meets Chief Bill Gillespie (Rob Steiger). Their dissimilarity offers a valuable contrast that sharply pronounces Mr. Tibbs’ otherness in this town, not only as a Black man but also as a detective. His steady and methodical intellectual delivery is new in the Sparta sheriff’s station. Through the character of Mr. Tibbs, this film shows us Poitier’s characteristic composure operating in a new light. By 1967, as “the shift from Civil Rights with its integrationist fantasies to Black Power with its separatist desires” was beginning to change the types of narratives that interested audiences, Poitier was starting to lose his appeal (Gateward, 170). In the same year as the film’s release, Clifford Mason named the “Poitier Syndrome,” in which his characters typically existed in palatable narratives for white audiences and served to be composed and collected (170). In doing so, he was the embodiment of harmlessness and stability. However, when presented as Mr. Tibbs, Poitier’s signature style becomes a powerful tool for subverting interracial representations.

With these changing expectations of Blackness on screen came a move towards character-driven narratives. Though In the Heat of the Night is centered around the unlikely partnership of Mr. Tibbs and Chief Gillespie, it takes pointed measures to foreground Mr. Tibbs’ character and demeanor. Early in the film, Tibbs joins Gillespie at the coroner’s office to examine the body of the murder victim. A short time later, they return to the station, and Tibbs, again, examines Harvey’s (Scott Wilson)  arrested hands. Each scene shows Tibbs in the center of the frame, surrounded by the observant eyes of white officers and townspeople. The tension and unease these scenes generate — located among the characters and the audience — is notably absent in Tibbs. This composure Poitier is known for bringing to the screen, alongside Jewison’s early establishment of this very composure in Tibbs, suggests his embodiment of control and autonomy. Myths about the differences between white and Black people engendered a set of ill-rooted expectations in the American South that persisted through slavery and that were exacerbated by the implementation of Jim Crow. These rules reinforced Black inferiority and, most importantly, penalized any action that implied equality. Interracial touch was unacceptable, characterized as something inherently adverse and even violent, and undoubtedly wrong if done on the terms of a Black person. Oppositely, white men were at liberty to touch Black bodies as they saw fit, a privilege that stripped Black people of their autonomy and upheld their inferiority. In thinking specifically of the American South, the power that white men had to touch however and whenever they pleased supported their authoritative position over Black people. Officer Sam Woods (Warren Oates) addresses Mr. Tibbs as “boy” when he first finds him at the train station (one of many derogatory names hurled at him throughout the film), and Chief Gillespie’s sarcastic acknowledgment of Tibbs’ salary makes clear that Sparta is no exception to the Jim Crow caste system. But, Mr. Tibbs’ embodiment of Black autonomy, founded in the Poitier performance, shows a changing tide in representations of Blackness. 

Black autonomy in this film is best represented in the aforementioned scenes at the morgue and the police station. Returning to the coroner’s office, Tibbs begins his physical examination. Aside from the occasional comment, the room falls silent, and the film cuts to a close-up shot of Tibbs’ hands navigating the corpse. The contrast between their complexions is initially striking, emphasized by the use of high-key lighting. Here, race remains a clear focus. As he continues, the camera closely captures how Tibbs moves with experience and skill, carefully and purposefully checking both hands, then the skull. The camera seems to care little about capturing the reaction of the other men in the room or even reading Tibbs’ expression as he conducts the examination. Instead, the film showcases the finer details of Tibbs’ dexterous touch. The station scene operates similarly. When Harvey is arrested and brought into the station, Tibbs takes and squeezes his hands and arms. Despite Harvey’s unease (mirrored by the coroner in the earlier scene), Tibbs conducts himself without hesitation or reserve. As with Mr. Colbert, Gillespie acts as the authorizer of these intimate moments, but permission seems to mean very little here. As the camera follows Tibbs’ movements, he is portrayed as being in authority, controlling precisely what happens and when. Even when Harvey becomes rowdy, Tibbs is prepared, maneuvering and nudging him away. Despite the censorious atmosphere he is placed in, he maintains a strong sense of control, handling these bodies as he sees fit.

 

A tense moment of interracial contact in In the Heat of the Night

 

Within the pretense of an officer simply doing his job, Tibbs’ examinations embody a larger statement on the reclamation of Black autonomy. Tibbs refuses to yield to the intimidation inflicted upon him and remains steadfast in doing what is necessary for the investigation. Furthermore, the portrayal of Mr. Colbert and Harvey’s hands stripped of their agency develops an inversion of power dynamics that supports this reclamation. In many ways, Tibbs’ examinations illustrate a defiance of Jim Crow expectations. Utilizing the close-up, Jewison makes the assertion of Black autonomy inescapable while simultaneously depicting the loss of white autonomy. The ability of a Black man to touch a white man’s hand in the South, in front of (and on behalf of) law enforcement, subverts interracial representations because it rejects suggestions of Black inferiority and, perhaps, stands to equalize. It also rejects the notion that interracial touching must be associated with violence or conflict. The film’s close-ups reveal Tibbs’ almost delicate care for each pair of hands. Black masculinity is recategorized here as something careful and gentle rather than something to be fearful of and in need of regulation. While violent interracial touch does exist within the film (such as Tibbs slapping Mr. Endicott in retaliation), Mr. Tibbs always conducts himself in the carefully methodical style he’s characterized by through Portier’s performance. 

Mr. Endicott says it best, “there was a time when I could have had you shot.”  Many of Tibbs’ actions through the film would not have been taken so kindly outside the protective narrative bubble of this fictitious world. James Baldwin discusses this in his book The Devil Finds Work (1976), proposing that the story is strung together by a series of “preposterous propositions” (51).  He continues, “[the plot] contains so many oblique and unconscious confessions concerning the roles of money, sex, marriage, greed, and guilt and power.” (52). There is much validity to this —despite its progressiveness,  In the Heat of the Night upholds many of the placating tropes Poitier’s earlier films fall victim to, and thus forgoes the discussion of crucial ideas necessary for holistic subversions of troubling depictions. It operates almost as a fantasy, wherein, despite historical tensions, racial reconciliation can somehow be achieved without any meaningful disruption to white culture. However, while many points in the plot serve the narrative as opposed to any sense of realism, these critiques may fail to recognize the significant role that physical touch plays in making substantive commentary on changing racial relations. The camera’s close attention to these examinations showcases their worthiness and relevance as statements on Black autonomy. Narratively, there may be a shallow presentation of the key themes Baldwin mentions, and, therefore, the film may lean toward a more idealistic depiction of racial tensions in the late 1960s. However, its overarching subversion of interracial representations on film is notable. It allows for the idea of Black autonomy to announce itself through strong acting performances and leave insightful impressions on the audience. 

In the Heat of the Night subverts previous depictions of interracial representations on film by enlisting Sidney Poitier to play Virgil Tibbs and closely capturing his defiant use of touch in two essential scenes. Each scene represents a reclamation of Black autonomy in the American South. As audiences yearned for more resonating depictions of Blackness on film at the end of the 1960s, In the Heat of the Night equipped Poitier’s star power to bring to life the subtle power of Mr. Tibbs. Understanding established racial hierarchies imposed on the culture of Sparta, Mississippi, makes Mr. Tibbs’ examination of Mr. Colbert and Harvey a profound assertion of autonomy, reinforced by how subjects are placed in proximity to the camera. While the film faced criticism from scholars and authors, the film’s visual storytelling reflected emerging sentiments on racial relations in the United States and subverted previous pacifying narratives audiences were beginning to reject. While it is often remembered for highlighting the good that can come from working together, it remains an essential comment on the power of proclaiming Black autonomy.

 

Work Cited

Baldwin, James. The Devil Finds Work. The Dial Press, 1976, p. 50 – 51.

Gateward, Frances. “Sidney Poitier in In the Heat of the Night .” Close Up; Great Cinematic Performances, vol. 1, 2018, p. 170.

“What is Jim Crow.” Jim Crow Museum, jimcrowmuseum.ferris.edu/what.htm. Accessed 7 Oct. 2024.

 

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