There are many reasons to remember Quincy Jones, who has died aged 91 in Los Angeles. Let me deal with just one. Jones was responsible for the soundtrack of one of the most remarkable films of the 1960s, In The Heat of The Night, which is still in my all-time top ten of movies.
Directed by the peerless Norman Jewison (who also died this year, aged 97), the film is mostly remembered for the clever, nuanced performances from the two leading actors and the sometimes electric interplay between them – Rod Steiger as the tired, reflexively bigoted and lonely white sheriff of a small Mississippi steel town and Sidney Poitier as the suave, articulate, black detective from Philadelphia who is unfortunately deposited in this backwater and immediately accused of murder.
This partnership carries the film – rather better than the plotting, which is, if we are honest, a little cumbersome and confused. But what also carries you along is the soundtrack. I cannot think, offhand, of another film in which the music is so in keeping with the tenor and atmosphere of the movie, not even Taxi Driver. This is true particularly of the wonderfully smoky, organ-drenched title track, part blues, part gospel and composed by Jones and sung by Ray Charles. But then there is Jones’ perfectly judged, irresistibly catchy – and very funny – parody of a deep south delta cracker country choon, ‘Foul Owl On The Prowl’, sung by the duo Booner and Travis, the melody and arrangement again from Jones. It is such a good song. Good enough for Norah Jones to cover it with the Little Willies forty years later.
At the Oscars in 1968, In The Heat of the Night won just about every prize going. Best film, best leading actor (for Steiger), best screenplay, best sound, best editing… the list went on and on. But only, it has to be said, for the whites involved. Incredibly, Poitier was not even nominated for best supporting actor. And Qunicy Jones was not even nominated for best soundtrack (which went, sigh, to Thoroughly Modern Millie).
I always remember this absurd affront when I’m tempted to rail against the current predilection in Hollywood – and especially at the Oscars – for what they might call affirmative action. Yes, it grates and it is condescending. But there is a certain history there, no? One in which blacks in Hollywood really were regularly shunned when the awards were handed out.
Anyway, RIP Quincy. And well done for pulling Nastassja Kinski. Huge respec.
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