Criterion Upgrades In the Heat of the Night to 4K UHD

The Criterion Collection brings a 4K UHD disc upgrade to its already-excellent 2018 Blu-ray release of 1967’s sharp-edged Southern drama In the Heat of the Night, a film that features not only one of cinema’s greatest lines but two of the medium’s best actors facing off over an unsolved murder case. Add in an historically important handslap, Ray Charles’ sultry title song, and first-rate cinematic storytelling, and In the Heat of the Night still delivers. Is the film dated? Sure. Is it still probing and poignant? Absolutely.

The story quickly marries together two locked-at-horns opposites in Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger. Poitier had ascended to the front rank of Hollywood stardom, truly the first Black man to do so, by virtue of his good looks, inestimable talent, and canny role choices. Steiger was a veteran method actor known for his morally complex characters like his Charley Malloy in On the Waterfront. The constant tension between the two—upright, composed, determined, mannered Poitier versus the shambolic, portly, gum-smacking, loose-talking Steiger—crackles throughout, so much so that the film’s energy tends to wane a bit whenever one or the other is absent from the scene.

Fortunately, that’s not often. Poitier plays Virgil Tibbs, a Philadelphia police detective passing through deep-South Sparta when he is apprehended by the local police in connection with a murder case: just waiting in a train station is, for the police, cause enough for suspicion. Supervising the case is the openly racist police chief Gillespie, played by Steiger, who soon realizes Tibbs is not the suspect but may just have the investigative chops to lead his force to the actual culprit. And so the two form the uneasiest of alliances, Tibbs suffering the indignities of Sparta’s and Gillespie’s overt racism and Gillespie continually exasperated by Tibbs’ intellect and principles.

There’s absolutely nothing revelatory or experimental about In the Heat of the Night’s cinematic storytelling. It’s by-the-book Hollywood filmmaking at its very best, beginning with the nonpareil performances (not just from Steiger and Poitier but also from Lee Grant and Warren Oates in perfectly cast supporting roles), but all across the board. Director Norman Jewison expertly integrates the story’s social commentary without ever losing track of the police-procedural narrative, bringing the murder case to a just conclusion. Haskell Wexler’s cinematography, Quincy Jones’s score, that marvelous Ray Charles title song, and perfectly-paced editing from Hal Ashby (before his own directorial career got underway) all work in synchrony.

For their work, Jewison, screenwriter Stirling Silliphant, Steiger, and Ashby were all awarded Oscars, as was the film itself for Best Picture. With the benefit of hindsight—and Mark Harris’ excellent book Pictures at a Revolution, which dives deep into the competition for the 1967 Best Picture award—In the Heat of the Night eventually became one of those films deemed unworthy of its Best Picture Oscar. After all, its competition that year included the incendiary gangster film Bonnie & Clyde and the sly coming-of-age comedy The Graduate, both of which unquestionably had far greater artistic ambitions and a more profound influence on the New Hollywood movement that would follow. (That year’s two other nominees are even more dated: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner and Dr. Doolittle.)

For all its excellence, In the Heat of the Night also remains a film illustrative of both Hollywood’s double standards in its depictions of Black men and the means by which it would attempt to assuage racial anxieties. Poitier became a star for a number of reasons, certainly prominent among them his movie-star looks and unquestionable talent, but also because he played roles with which white executives and audiences could feel comfortable. His character in In the Heat of the Night is indubitably the victim of both overt racism and constant microagressions. Yet his response is violent, never ill-tempered, never profane: more than once in the narrative he’s confronted with an angry mob and armed with a weapon, yet never allowed to strike.

In fact, Tibbs’ only overt physical action is a simple open-handed slap. But it’s an historically important one. Tibbs is slapped by a racist plantation owner who finds the Black detective more than a little too “uppity.” It seems almost impossible in retrospect, but to have a Black man slap a white one was literally unprecedented onscreen. Poitier himself demanded it: after reading the script, the actor insisted his character return the slap, one he never would have endured silently in his own life. It’s a small action, but it was, in the context of the decade and of Hollywood storytelling more generally, both fully warranted and surprisingly unprecedented.

Poitier’s roles, here and elsewhere, were also avowedly asexual. His characters might be allowed a romance (not here), but no sex. White male stars of the era could trade somewhat freely on their sexuality, but Poitier’s characters were largely chaste, goal-oriented men driven by social justice, moral obligation, or workplace professionalism. As a consequence, more militant-minded Black people found him and his stardom milquetoast, little more than a stand-in for the kind of Black man white audiences could accept, if grudgingly, onscreen. His chaste asexuality and dignified demeanor would seem a little less at home in the more freewheeling seventies once films like Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song found their way in front of audiences.

None of this is to demean or diminish Poitier’s driven, dynamic performance here in In the Heat of the Night nor, for that matter, the film itself. It’s true that the film is very much the product of white men’s attempts to assuage racial anxieties about the prejudice and racism of the Civil Rights era. Given that, though, it’s hard to imagine a better job of doing so. Had all the battles of the movement been fought and won more unambiguously, we could afford to be a bit more critical of this excellent film’s limitations.

The 4K restoration, presented in the film’s original aspect ratio of 1.85:1, was created from the original 35mm camera negative and undertaken by Park circus and MGM with additional restoration by Resillion. The film’s audio—equally important and equally crisp and clear—is restored in its original monoaural audio from the 3fmm magnetic track DME track by Criterion. Picture quality on the 4K UHD disc is fantastic, with incredible detail and nuance, showing off the film’s rich cinematography throughout. I cannot compare that of the Blu-ray disc with anything other than the 4K UHD disc (not having a copy of the prior 2018 Blu-ray release), but it’s difficult to imagine being disappointed by it, either: it too features excellent, crisp detail and lively color.

Special Features

All of the special features here are ported directly from Criterion’s 2018 Blu-ray release. None speak directly to the recent remastering of the film.

Audio Commentary. The commentary provided here is one recorded back in 2008 for a prior (non-Criterion) release and had been, like all of the special features listed below, included on Criterion’s earlier Blu-ray release. Featuring director Norman Jewison, cinematographer Haskell Wexler, and actors Rod Steiger and Lee Grant—and recorded at different times and places—the track is edited together seamlessly, with expert timing. It focuses more than some on cinematic technique and story development.

No subtitles for the deaf or hard of hearing are available for this or for any of the disc’s special features, despite the fact that some viewers might benefit from, or even need them, to enjoy the full complement of supplements. Such is Criterion’s stated—if flawed—policy.

Norman Jewison. In a thoughtful 14-minute  interview conducted by Criterion for the 2018 Blu-ray release, the director recalls his first encounter with the John Ball novel from which the film was adapted and reminisces about his time on set, especially the contrast in working methods between the the measured, cerebral Sidney Poitier and the more motive, reactive Rod Steiger.

Sidney Poitier. In this short eight-minute program recorded for the American Film Institute’s 100 Years… 100 Cheers 2006 television special, Poitier reminisces about his time on the set of In the Heat of the Night. Given that Poitier lived until 2022, it’s hard not to wish for a bit more of the actor’s sentiments in this package, bur regardless this is a charming, if brief, featurette.

Lee Grant. The actor reflects upon her having been blacklisted in Hollywood from the ages of 24 to 36—the prime of most women’s careers, certainly in that era, and her having the opportunity to express, with her character, her incredulity at the fecklessness of the community and law enforcement in Sparta. Recorded in 2018 for the prior Blu-ray release, the 15-minute interview is a delight: Grant is feisty, articulate, profane, and inspiring in her dedication to civil rights causes.

Aram Goudsouzian. In this 18-minute interview also conducted in 2018, Goudsouzian, a historian and Poitier biographer (Sidney Poitier: Man, Actor, Icon), charts the actor’s career through several stages in his ascendancy to the first rank of Hollywood stardom.

Turning Up the Heat: Movie-Making in the ’60s. This 22-minute mini-documentary from 2008 examines the film’s production history in the broader context of 1960s Hollywood, featuring commentary from Jewison, producer Walter Mirisch, filmmakers John Singleton and Reginald Hudlin, historian Patricia King Hanson, and others alongside clips and images from In the Heat of the Night and other films.

Quincy Jones: Breaking New Sound. Also produced in 2008, this 13-minute mini-documentary focuses on Jones’ evolving career and time in Hollywood, in particular the idiosyncratic and emotive soundtrack he created for In the Heat of the Night and the inclusion of Ray Charles’ dynamic title song. Interviewees include Jones himself, jazz musician Herbie Hancock, lyricists Alan and Marilyn Bergman, historian Jon Burlingame, and others. This and the similar-produced “Turning Up the Heat” are very typical promotional featurettes, but both are well-produced and informative.

Also included is the film’s original trailer and, in the double-disc clear jewel case, a 12-page four-color illustrated booklet featuring cast, crew, and restoration credits, illustrations by Sean Phillips, and an excellent essay by K. Austin Collins, “The Double-Bind,” which examines the carefully conscripted set of implicit rules by which Hollywood fictions restricted the actions of its Black performers. The essay is the only one of the film’s special features to address this topic in any real detail.

In sum, what’s new here is one thing and one thing only: the 4K restoration and UHD disc version of In the Heat of the Night. Everything else in the package is exactly as it was in Criterion’s 2018 Blu-ray release. Then again, that package included practically everything one might wish for in a pristine print and lively collection of supplements. The star here, as it has been in other Criterion Collection upgrades to their catalog content, is the restoration itself. And there, this new version of In the Heat of the Night is as brilliant and detailed as one can imagine.