In The Cool Of The Evening

I recently watched In The Heat Of The Night. I hadn't seen the film in years. It won the Best Picture Oscar for 1967, and still has an undeserved reputation as a great movie. It's not bad, but it's a pretty run of the mill murder investigation that packs a wallop because of the racial politics. Except that while it's still fun, the racial side isn't quite as edgy as it once was, and mostly reminds us how bad things used to be. (On the other hand, I think Bonnie And Clyde, and The Graduate, both of which it beat for the Oscar, still hold up. And I'm still surprised Rod Steiger beat Dustin Hoffman for Best Actor.)

I do like the title. It conjures up sweaty Mississippi nights. Except the film wasn't made in the south. They were understandably afraid there'd be trouble if such an incendiary film were shot down there. So they did it in Sparta, Illinois. (And they changed the name of the city in the film to Sparta to take advantage of all the signs.) Unfortunatey, all the heat of the night is pretty hard to buy when you can clearly see the actors' breath as they speak.