I’m an adult and I learned the truth about Santa Claus a long time ago but I still put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving, still hang stockings with the names of my sisters on them, and I still get excited when I see the Christmas lights going up across the neighborhood. I am unapologetically, deliriously in love with Christmas. And every single year, without fail, I curl up with the same worn-out blanket, the same bowl of freshly-popped popcorn, and I watch Elf. I don’t watch it because it’s cool or ironic. I watch it because it’s as unabashedly in love with Christmas as I am.
The older you get, the more cynical the world wants you to be about everything. Elf doesn’t have time for cynicism. Will Ferrell plays Buddy, a human who was raised by Santa’s elves and who goes to New York City to find his real father (James Caan) and who never loses his innocence and Christmas spirit, no matter what the world throws at him. Buddy isn’t dumb, not really. He’s someone who still believes in giving and celebration and love. When he tells the fake Santa that he sits on a throne of lies, he’s not trying to make trouble. Buddy knows the real Santa and he’s not going to let some fake in a beard steal the credit for his work. (Especially when he’s played by Artie Lange!) Buddy is ridiculous. He’s too tall, too loud, too earnest, too everything. He puts maple syrup on spaghetti and calls it gourmet. He spins in revolving doors until he’s dizzy with joy. Everyone should be as lucky as Buddy. Everyone should be as filled with joy and wonder as Buddy. Buddy doesn’t let the world get him down but, even more importantly, he never loses his belief. Just as Linus will always wait for the Great Pumpkin, Buddy will always believe that Santa is coming.
This is my favorite Will Ferrell performance. The way he throws himself into every moment makes me smile every time. But I like everyone in this film, from Bob Newhart as Buddy’s adopted father to James Caan as his real father to Ed Asner as Santa. When Zooey Deschanel starts singing Santa Claus Is Coming To Town, I feel it in my heart because I believe it. Elf believes it too, without apology. That’s what makes Elf a great movie.
I’m an adult. I’ve been an adult for a while. I still love Elf and I always will!
Filmed in 1957 for a television program called Westinghouse Studio One, The Night America Trembled is a dramatization of the night that Orson Welles terrified America with his radio adaptation of War of The Worlds.
For legal reasons, Orson Welles is not portrayed nor is his name mentioned. Instead, the focus is mostly on the people listening to the broadcast and getting the wrong idea. That may sound like a comedy but The Night America Trembled takes itself fairly seriously. Even pompous old Edward R. Murrow shows up to narrate the film, in between taking drags off a cigarette.
Clocking in at a brisk 60 minutes, The Night America Trembled is an interesting recreation of that October 30th. Among the people panicking: a group of people in a bar who, before hearing the broadcast, were debating whether or not Hitler was as crazy as people said he was, a babysitter who goes absolutely crazy with fear, and a group of poker-playing college students. If, like me, you’re a frequent viewer of TCM, you may recognize some of the faces in the large cast: Ed Asner, James Coburn, John Astin, Warren Oates, and Warren Beatty all make early appearances.
It’s an interesting little historical document and you can watch it below!
On December 8, 1991, YES VIRGINIA, THERE IS A SANTA CLAUS, starring Charles Bronson, made its world premiere on the ABC Network. I was 18 years old and working at the local grocery store that night so I had to set up my VCR to record the film. I was so nervous that something might happen to mess up my timed recording. In those days, all it took was a quick power flicker and your recording was screwed. I was so happy when I got home that night and everything had gone perfectly. I was a starving Bronson superfan who had not seen anything new from the man since KINJITE: FORBIDDEN SUBJECTS had been released in February of 1989. Since KINJITE’S release, Charles Bronson had faced the most difficult emotional times of his life. The love of his life, Jill Ireland, had fought valiantly against cancer but lost her battle with the disease in May of 1990. When he chose to start working again, his first two films, THE INDIAN RUNNER and YES VIRGINIA, featured him in roles where he was playing a man who is dealing with the pain from having recently lost his wife. These were tough times for the aging star, and it seems he was working out some deep emotional struggles in these two performances. At the time, the prospect of Charles Bronson performing in a heartwarming Christmas movie about a classic newspaper editorial was such a surprising film choice. I was all in!
YES VIRGINIA opens with renowned journalist for The New York Sun newspaper, Francis P. Church, cleaning the snow off of his recently deceased wife and daughter’s tombstones. He turns away to take a drink of whiskey out of shame and then walks away. It seems that since they passed away, Church has become a shell of his former self. He has a lot of guilt because he was always away on newspaper business instead of being at home with his family. He’s dealing with that pain by drinking way too much. He’s not working on the stories he’s been assigned by his editor, Edward P. Mitchell (Ed Asner), and it seems he’s lost the will to live.
At the same time that Francis Church is dealing with his issues, we’re introduced to the O’Hanlon clan. James O’Hanlon (Richard Thomas) is the head of the family that includes his wife Evie (Tamsin Kelsey), daughter Virginia (Katharine Isabelle), and sons Teddy and Sean. We meet James on the same day that he loses his job for beating up a bigot who was insulting his Irish heritage. We follow him as he attempts to find a job so he can provide for his family. His sweet-natured daughter Virginia is having some issues of her own. One day while playing jump rope at school, some of the other girls decide to tell her that there is no such thing as Santa Claus. This cause’s Virginia a lot of stress, so she asks her dad if it’s true. Holding yesterday’s copy of the New York Sun, he tells her that if he sees it written in The Sun, he knows it’s true. Being a smart young lady, she decides to write her own letter to The Sun.
And this is where the two stories converge. Editor Mitchell assigns Church the job of answering Virginia’s question. This turns out to be just what he needs to begin seeing the good in the world around him again.
That night in December of 1991, even after working the late shift at the grocery store, there was no way I was going to wait until the next day to watch a new Charles Bronson movie for the first time in almost 3 years. I pressed play and settled in for a film that is dealing with some really serious subject matter. The main characters are dealing with severe depression, alcoholism, bigotry, extreme poverty, and attitudes of indifference and disbelief towards Santa Claus himself! Sounds like an uplifting story doesn’t it? The truth is that it is a very uplifting story because it features people with good hearts who care about the people around them. Sure, there are some jerks in the movie. This is one of those kinds of movies where those jerks end up getting their asses kicked. James O’Hanlon and his friend Donelli get the opportunity to beat up the bigots who call them potlickers and poured their beer on them. As a fan of Bronson, one of the most satisfying scenes in the movie is when Church punches out the smug, elitist A-hole, Cornelius Barrington (John Novak) who’s being disrespectful about one of Church’s female co-workers. Those scenes are satisfying, but my favorite parts of the movie are the sentimental acts of kindness we get to see throughout the film. We see co-workers taking care of co-workers. We see neighbors taking care of neighbors. We see family members taking care of each other at different times and different ways. It’s so satisfying when we see good things happen to these good people simply because someone cares enough to be kind.
The cast in this film is so good. Of course Charles Bronson is excellent as Francis P. Church. You can really feel his character’s grief, and you can understand why he runs away to the bottle. And knowing that Bronson had recently lost his wife in real life only adds to the emotional power of the performance. And I think Katharine Isabelle is so good as Virginia. The wrong person in her role could have ruined the film. They got it right with Katharine. Ed Asner is perfect as Edgar P. Mitchell, with just the right combination of toughness and caring. I really enjoy seeing the two grizzled veterans, Bronson and Asner, working together. And finally, I like Richard Thomas in this movie as well. He plays the highs and lows of his character in a dramatic way without going too far. The main cast had to be good for the movie to work, and they more than fit the bill.
And what about that famous editorial where Church answers Virginia’s question, “Is there a Santa Claus?” I just love the scene in the movie when the sweet girl gets her answer. I won’t spoil it for you with all the details, but I will say that it features so much thoughtfulness and thankfulness leading up to the reading of the actual editorial that ran in New York Sun in 1897. And the look on Virginia’s face when her dad reads “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” is priceless. It’s the perfect example of why I love the movie, and therefore, it’s a perfect ending to the film.
BONUS CONTENT – I had the great privilege to be part of an interview with Lindsay Ireland, Charles Bronson’s and Jill Ireland’s niece, as part of the “This Week in Charles Bronson” podcast. She gives so much insight into her uncle and aunt. She also provides additional context on just how hard Jill’s passing was on Bronson just prior to filming YES VIRGINIA, THERE IS A SANTA CLAUS. I’ve linked the interview below if you want to know more.
Filmed in 1957 for a television program called Westinghouse Studio One, The Night America Trembled is a dramatization of the night that Orson Welles terrified America with his radio adaptation of War of The Worlds.
For legal reasons, Orson Welles is not portrayed nor is his name mentioned. Instead, the focus is mostly on the people listening to the broadcast and getting the wrong idea. That may sound like a comedy but The Night America Trembled takes itself fairly seriously. Even pompous old Edward R. Murrow shows up to narrate the film, in between taking drags off a cigarette.
Clocking in at a brisk 60 minutes, The Night America Trembled is an interesting recreation of that October 30th. Among the people panicking: a group of people in a bar who, before hearing the broadcast, were debating whether or not Hitler was as crazy as people said he was, a babysitter who goes absolutely crazy with fear, and a group of poker-playing college students. If, like me, you’re a frequent viewer of TCM, you may recognize some of the faces in the large cast: Ed Asner, James Coburn, John Astin, Warren Oates, and Warren Beatty all make early appearances.
It’s an interesting little historical document and you can watch it below!
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Thursdays, I will be reviewing Highway to Heaven, which aired on NBC from 1984 to 1989. The entire show is currently streaming on Freevee and several other services!
This week, it’s time for a theological debate!
Episode 2.17 “The Last Assignment”
(Dir by Michael Landon, originally aired on February 12th, 1986)
While he and Mark drive through another run-down American city, a radio news report of a man dressed as Santa Claus giving people exactly what they ask for even though it’s not even Christmas leads Jonathan to suspect that Harold might be in the area. As Jonathan explains to Mark, Harold is an angel who has been on probation for hundreds of years because he can’t obey the rules. Instead of encouraging people to find it in themselves to do the right thing and to create their own opportunities, Harold just gives people exactly what they want. If Jonathan is all about teaching people to have faith no matter what, Harold is about creating sudden miracles.
It’s actually an interesting plot, in that it really does capture one of the central debates at the heart of any religion. Should God just give people what they want or should people’s faith in God give them the strength to understand and pursue what they truly need? It’s the battle between those who take a vow of poverty and show their devotion through sacrifice and suffering and those who preach the so-called prosperity gospel, insisting that God is some sort of celestial regulatory agency.
(It’s also a reflection of the ongoing debate as to how involved the government should get in other people’s lives. Jonathan argues for a hands-off approach that respects and promotes the idea of individual freedom. Harold, for his part, seems to be a big government guy. Jonathan supports encouraging people to pull themselves up. Harold supports hand-outs. Jonathan is a Republican. Harold probably wants to be Bernie Sanders’s guardian angel.)
Jonathan tracks down Harold (Ed Asner). Harold has opened a fire hydrant and turned water into wine, making all of the neighborhood alcoholics vey happy. Harold says that he performed a miracle and gave the people what they wanted. Jonathan argues that the people needed to learn that they had the power within themselves to find their own happiness. Taking it upon himself to keep an eye on Harold, Jonathan can only watch as Harold bends the rules to help a woman sell her stamp collection for $500 and also reunites an older woman with her lost dog. Jonathan says that Harold isn’t teaching anyone anything or helping anyone to discover their inner strength. Harold argues that he’s helping out the faithful. But when Jonathan and Harold meet a priest who has lost his faith, both of their approaches are put to the test.
Theological debates aside, it’s obvious that the main point of this episode was to give Ed Asner a showy role. Asner makes the most of Harold, playing him as someone who may pretend to be a buffoon but who actually truly cares about people and who is truly angered by what he views as being cosmic injustice and holy indifference. Asner and Landon both give good performances here and, as a result, the rather episodic story is always watchable. The show may ultimately come down on Jonathan’s side but you’re still happy when it becomes clear that Harold isn’t going to change his ways for a second.
Filmed in 1957 for a television program called Westinghouse Studio One, The Night America Trembled is a dramatization of the night in 1938 when Orson Welles’s adaptation of H.G. Wells’s The War of the Worlds reportedly caused a panic amongst listeners.
For legal reasons, Orson Welles is not portrayed nor is his name mentioned. Instead, the focus is mostly on the people listening to the broadcast and getting the wrong idea. That may sound like a comedy but The Night America Trembled takes itself fairly seriously, complete with Edward R. Murrow narrating and taking drags off of a cigarette.
Clocking in at a brisk 60 minutes, The Night America Trembled is an interesting recreation of that October 30th. Among the people panicking are a large collection of future stars and character actors. Ed Asner, James Coburn, John Astin, Warren Oates, and Warren Beatty all make early appearances.
It’s an interesting historical document and you can watch it below!
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Sundays, I will be reviewing the made-for-television movies that used to be a primetime mainstay. Today’s film is 1972’s Haunt of the Very Rich! It can be viewed on YouTube!
The 1972 made-for-TV movie Haunts of the Very Rich opens with a lengthy shot of Lyle (Tony Bill) and Laurie (Donna Mills) sharing a very long kiss. Obviously, they’re very happy and why shouldn’t they be? They’re young. They’re beautiful. They’re in love. They’re newly married. And …. they’re on an airplane!
It’s a private plane, one that’s heading towards a resort called The Portals of Eden. There’s only a few other people on the plane. David Woodrough (Lloyd Bridges) is a businessman who is looking forward to spend some time away from his wife, especially if it means a chance to get to know one of the other passengers, Ellen Blunt (Cloris Leachman). Annette Larner (Anne Francis) is also traveling alone and is hoping she might finally be able to get some sleep without having to take a handful of pills beforehand. Rev. Fellows (Robert Reed) appears to have lost his faith. And then there’s Al Hunsicker (Ed Asner). Hunsicker’s a little bit confused about how he ended up on the airplane. As far as he knows, he’s supposed to be on his way to a business meeting in Dallas. Portals of Eden? Al’s never heard of the place! Of course, nobody on the plane really seems to be sure where they’re going or how they even got on the plane in the first place. Strangely, Al appears to be the only one who finds any of this to be strange.
When the plane lands, they discover that the Portals of Eden is a large hotel sitting at the edge of a tropical wilderness. Their host, the always polite Mr. Seacrist (Moses Gunn), welcomes them but avoids answering anyone’s questions. Seacrist tells them to enjoy their stay.
For the first day, that’s exactly what everyone does. They relax. They indulge in a little pampering. David gets to know Ellen. Al is still worried about getting to his business meeting but he is assured that he can always fly out to Dallas the following day.
The night, a violent storm hits. The next day, everyone wakes up to discover that the resort is nearly deserted. There’s no electricity. There’s no way to call out. There’s not much food. Seacrist tells them not to worry. He assures them that help is on the way. As the guests wait to be rescued, they finally start to wonder just how exactly the ended up at the resort in the first place. They realize that they’ve almost all had a recent brush with death. David swears to Ellen that he’ll file for divorce as soon as they get back home but what if they don’t have a home to which to return? Occasionally, the guests hear a plane flying overhead. At one point, they even see one land. But every time, just when it seems like they’re on the verge of finally being rescued, the plane vanishes.
And things just get stranger from there.
If Jean-Paul Sartre had ended up in the United States, writing for The Bold and the Beautiful, the end result would probably look a lot like Haunts of the Very Rich. Considering that this is a made-for-TV movie from the early 70s, Haunts of the Very Rich is a surprisingly effective and atmospheric little horror film. The story itself won’t exactly win any points for originality. You’ll guess the secret of Portals of Eden long before any of the characters in the film. But still, it’s a well-directed and nicely acted film, one that’s topped off with a suitably surreal (if somewhat abrupt) finale.
Haunts of the Very Rich can currently be found on YouTube and I recommend it for anyone who likes their melodrama served with a side of existential dread.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Sundays, I will be reviewing the made-for-television movies that used to be a primetime mainstay. Today’s film is 1971’s The Last Child! It can be viewed on YouTube!
Welcome to the “near future.”
Panicked by hysterical claims about overpopulation and environmental catastrophe, Americans have sacrificed the majority of their civil liberties. Smiling policeman stand on every corner and in every public hallway. Of course, once their authority is challenged, those smiles quickly disappear. Crude posters have been put up everywhere, demanding that everyone watch their consumption of natural resources. The social engineers and the eugenicists are in charge. Anyone over the age of 65 is ineligible for medical care and encouraged to consider euthanasia. Couples are allowed to have only one child and the government requires that anyone who gets pregnant a second time have an abortion. Anyone who questions the policy is told that they have no choice but to follow the law. It’s their civic duty. The media, meanwhile, runs headlines declaring that the one child policy has led to world peace. Alan and Karen Miller (played by Michael Cole and Janet Margolin) have already had their one child. That their child died shortly after birth doesn’t matter in the eyes of Barstow (Ed Asner), the Himmleresque head of the Population Control Police. Every couple is allowed one child and that’s it. When Karen gets pregnant a second time, she is determined to have the baby. She and Alan know that their only hope is to cross the border into Canada. Helping them is a retired U.S. Senator (Van Heflin, in his final performance) who is opposed to the government’s policies. Caught in the middle of Karen’s brother, Howard (Harry Guardino). Howard works for the Population Control Police and he knows just how far Barstow is willing to go to keep Karen from having her baby.
The Last Child opens with a title card informing us that the film takes place in the “not-too-distant future.” Along with all of the propaganda posters, that’s the only real sign that this film is meant to be taking place in the future. There’s no “futuristic” technology. Everyone dresses in the latest 1971 fashions. Everyone drives the latest 1971 automobiles. Though the decision may have been motivated by the film’s low-budget, the lack of the typical sci-fi trappings serves the film well. The Last Child does not take place in a sleekly designed future and it doesn’t takes place in an apocalyptic wasteland. Instead, it takes place in a world that is just as shabby as you would expect a world controlled and decorated by a government bureaucracy to be. It’s a gray dystopia, populated by people who have given up their individuality. It’s a world that’s visually boring by design and that makes it all the more disturbing.
The Last Child is an effective and well-acted film. It probably feels more plausible today than it did when it aired back in 1971. In many ways, with its portrait of unfeeling government officials and bland authoritarianism, it’s the perfect film for the age of COVID. Indeed, the government’s policy of refusing to provide life-saving care for people over the age of 65 is reminiscent of what many pundits advocated for at the height of the COVID pandemic. As for the film’s one child policy, that too is a concept that has become recently popular with many American academics. Among many members of the so-called “elites,” there’s a definite need to try to control people and that very real need is what makes The Last Child so disturbingly plausible. In The LastChild, sanctuary is found in Canada. Today, of course, Canada is at the forefront of the euthanasia trend. Of course, in 1971, the Prime Minister of Canada was Pierre Trudeau and not Justin.
Pierre Trudeau’s personal motto was “Reason before passion” and that’s certainly the philosophy that fuels the dystopian society at the center of The Last Child. It’s a film that holds up today as both a thriller and a prophecy,
When Kirkland (George Kennedy) appoints veteran cop Jake Quinn (Ed Asner) to command a division of the Massachusetts Metropolitan Police, one of Quinn’s main duties is to root out corruption. Everyone knows that Captain Jerry Clemente (Ray Sharkey) is crooked but no one’s been able to prove anything. This has led to Clemente getting so cocky that he tries to pull off the biggest bank robbery of all time. Working with two other corrupt cops (played by Steve Railsback and James Keach) and some ex-cons who owe him a favor, Clemente masterminds the theft of $25,000,000 worth of jewelry.
Unfortunately, stealing that much brings in not only the FBI but it also makes Quinn even more determined to expose Clemente and all of his crooked associates. As well, the Mafia wants their part of the action and the members of Celemente’s gang aren’t as smart as their leader. Soon the walls are closing in. Will Clemente get away with his crime or will he end up getting arrested and eventually writing a book about the theft that will eventually be turned into a television movie?
Though the title seems more appropriate for a comedy, The Cops Are Robbers is a drama based on a true story. It actually could have used some comedy because the movie itself is pretty dry and straight forward. Ed Asner and George Kennedy give their usual competent performances, cast as the type of characters that they could have played in their sleep. Unfortunately, Ray Sharkey is nowhere near as effective as the man they’re trying to put behind bars. When he first started out, Sharkey made a name for himself by giving convincing performances as characters who were tough and streetwise but also sometimes neurotic. He received Emmy and Golden Globe nominations before he became better known for his trips to rehab than his acting ability. I think that. as an actor, Sharkey’s downfall was that he saw himself compared to Al Pacino so many times that he started to buy it and he eventyally started to attack every role with the same method-style intensity. Sometimes, like when he played Sonny Steelgrave during the first season of Wiseguy, it worked. Most of the time, though, it just led to him overacting and bellowing all of his lines. That’s the case with The Cops Are Robbers. Sharkey is so loud and perpetually angry that it’s hard to believe that he’s managed to get away with his crimes for as long as he has.
For those of us who don’t live in Massachusetts, the most interesting thing about watching The Cops Are Robbers is trying to keep track of who works for what agency. When it was mentioned that Clemente works for the Metropolitan Police, I immediately assumed that meant he was a Boston police officer. Only later did I learn, via a review on the imdb, that the Metropolitan Police were actually a state agency. That Clemente was a state official and not just a city cop does make his crimes slightly more interesting, though not enough to really liven up The Cops Are Robbers.
The 1970 police procedural, They Call Me Mister Tibbs!, opens with a murder in San Francisco.
A prostitute has been found dead in a sleazy apartment building and, according to witnesses, she was visited, shortly before her death, by the Reverend Logan Sharpe (Martin Landau). Rev. Sharpe is a prominent civic leader, an outspoken liberal who is a friend of the civil rights movement. Sharpe is currently at the forefront of a campaign to pass a city referendum that will add a “mini city hall” to every neighborhood and will help to fight against the gentrification of San Francisco. If Sharpe’s guilty, it will mean the death of the referendum.
Despite the fact that there’s a ton of evidence piling up against him and he kind of comes across as being a little bit creepy (he is, after all, played by Martin Landau), Rev. Sharpe insists that he’s innocent. Yes, he’s been visiting prostitutes but he’s not a client. No, of course not! Instead, Sharpe explains that he’s simply counseling them and praying for their souls. In fact, as far as Sharpe is concerned, this whole thing is just an attempt by the establishment to discredit his efforts to help the poor and underprivileged.
Heading up the investigation is a friend and supporter of Sharpe’s, Detective Virgil Tibbs (Sidney Poitier). That may seem like a good thing for Sharpe, except for the fact that Tibbs is an honest cop and he’s not the type to let friendship stand in the way of doing a thorough investigation. Tibbs admits that he supports Sharpe’s campaign and he wants the reverend to be innocent. But Tibbs is all about justice. Whether it’s teaching his son an important lesson about smoking or tracking down a potential serial killer, Virgil Tibbs is always going to do the right thing.
There are other suspects, all of whom are played by suitably sinister character actors. Anthony Zerbe plays a criminal who lived near the prostitute. Ed Asner plays her landlord, who may have also been her pimp. Is Sharpe being set up by the powers that be or is Tibbs going to have to arrest a man whom he admires?
They Call Me Mister Tibbs! was the second film in which Sidney Poitier played Virgil Tibbs. The first time he played the role was in 1967, when he co-starred with Rod Steiger in the Oscar-winning In The Heat of the Night. In that film, Poitier was a Philadelphia cop in the deep south who had to work with a redneck sheriff. In They Call Me Mister Tibbs!, Virgil is now working in San Francisco and he has to work the case on his own.
They Call Me Mister Tibbs! is a far more conventional film than In The Heat of the Night. Whereas In The Heat of the Night had a wonderful sense of place and atmosphere, They Call Me Mister Tibbs! could just as easily have taken place in Los Angeles, Phoenix, or even Philadelphia. With the exception of some slight profanity, They Call Me Mister Tibbs! feels more like a pilot for a TV show than an actual feature film. Perhaps the biggest problem with the film is that there’s no real surprises to be found within the film. You’ll guess who the murderer is within the first 10 minutes of the film and you’ll probably even guess how the movie will eventually end.
On the plus side, just as he did in In The Heat of the Night, Sidney Poitier brings a lot of natural authority to the role of Virgil Tibbs. He’s actually allowed to show a sense of humor in this film, which is something that the character (understandably) couldn’t do while he was surrounded by bigots and rednecks during his previous adventure. Virgil gets a few family scenes, where we watch him interact with his wife and his children. The scenes feel out of place but, at the same time, Poitier plays them well.
With Sharpe attempting to get his referendum passed and the possibility that riots could break out if Sharpe is indeed guilty of murder, there’s a slight political subtext to They Call Me Mister Tibbs! Sharpe’s argument that he was being set up by the establishment undoubtedly carried a lot of weight in 1970. Still, this is ultimately a shallow (if adequately entertaining) film that, for the most part, is only made memorable by Poitier’s commanding performance.
Through the Shattered Lens 