THE PROLIFIC MIND- MORE THOUGHTS ON CINEMA, MUSIC AND CULTURE

INSIGHTS AND REFLECTIONS

IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT(1967)

When Sidney Poitier fully unleashes his internalised rage, it is never backed by violence or stereotypical intimidation. In a filmography as groundbreaking as his, the history and continuum of racism runs parallel to his iconographic presence in culture, so irrevocably etched in society's fabric that resorting to physical displays of indignation would be antithetical to progress or even the solemn, complex idea of fortitude. Tit for tat is far from reasonable in corporeal spaces where one's skin colour makes or breaks a particular scenario.

IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT finds Poitier as the unforgettable Virgil Tibbs bargaining and negotiating with Southern folks who are hell-bent on ostracising him on multiple fronts. His education, status as a decorated Philadelphia cop, particularly an expert at solving homicide cases, and easy charm even under duress are a total mismatch with the rough and tumble ways of residents of Sparta, Mississippi. The fact that Mr.Tibbs commands and demands respect in every room he's in and subverts the status quo by sheer dint of his intelligence and intellect further stokes an internalised shift among those who see him for his skin colour first and foremost. He's like a panther moving through this backwater where his many virtues are always at the risk of being demeaned or discarded altogether in the name of a long-standing tradition of bigotry. Yet he prevails, his stature and sharp mind overlapping with Rod Steiger's sheriff Gillespie, a man who has inherited prejudices and operates on rote decorum. Yet he's not a brute or hasn't turned into one even when in the line of duty. As Tibbs' fellow cop and a local overseer of this small town's many secrets, he tries to make the most of his professional acumen and deliver justice. Even as justice is a lop-sided entity meant to favour very few.

Director extraordinaire Norman Jewison mines verisimilitude through sweaty faces, shirts sticking to one's skin, hands examining another lifeless body's limbs, contrasting the racial presence for both anatomies, through the unkempt appearances of most of these townsfolk who are illiterate, unemployed, drunks, degenerates and louts ready to pounce on anybody who crosses their path. By way of chipping paint in diners and stores, gritty streets and railway depots, the claustrophobia of a nondescript police station that looks like it hasn't been touched by the new age in forever. By the lazy arcs of workers who pay no heed to a barely functioning air-conditioner or a broken gate and are dangerously explicit in their intimidating tactics and propensity for violence.

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The fact that Virgil and Gillespie negotiate their way through this rural/ semi-urban jungle while wrestling with their mutual dynamics and individual strong personalities that fall outside the purview of this place's amoral core says a lot about their trajectory during the course of this odyssey. The heart of darkness goes through serpentine routes of murder, lynch mobs and the history of race guides each step of the way for them both even in their most normal, relaxed interpersonal moments.

So when Virgil slaps a white plantation owner who quickly dispenses with his affability regarding the nature of orchids when put in the scanner during a routine enquiry and physically attacks Virgil first, it's history working its treacherous spell on them both. Virgil refuses to be a victim because the law grants him equal rights. It's only that benefactors of segregation cannot give up their upper hand just so easily. In a preceding instance, this very plantation's fields resurrect the labour and trauma that continue to define African-Americans. Or the silent retreat of the estate's black butler who is witness to 'the slap'