The power of Poitier: Revisiting the icon's underrated roles

Poitier in No Way Out

This weekend, the Museum of the Moving Image began a retrospective on the career of Sidney Poitier, one of the last living icons of Hollywood's classic era.

I covered this event for work and attended the opening day, taking in two underrated Poitier classics -- his 1950 debut, No Way Out, and his 1972 directorial debut, the western Buck and the Preacher.

Both films stand the test of time and are a reminder to audiences who are either ignorant of Poitier's work or inclined to reduce it to more racially apologetic parts in films like Guess Who's Coming to Dinner that this man was a unique talent whose impact on cinema was nothing short of revolutionary.

Poitier arrived on movie screens in the 1950s and '60s when the predominant images of African-Americans were either the "mammy" or the "coon" -- in other words we were either subservient of there to provide degrading comic relief. Poitier never played either type of role, and as his career matured he became known for playing elegant and brave black figures of authority.

My only regret about his career is that he ended it far too soon. He retired from acting for almost a decade in the late 1970s and then appeared in films only sporadically after that, so younger audiences missed out on what he was truly capable of and he never provided fans with the full bloom of his earlier talent.

That said, there is a lot of interesting material to revisit if you dig deep enough. Of his most celebrated roles, In The Heat of the Night resonates best for me, while other hits like To Sir with Love or Guess Who's Coming to Dinner are well-acted, but suffer from dated cultural commentary.

His first major film -- which I hadn't seen until today -- No Way Out, is a shockingly blunt film by any standard. Just hearing the N-word tossed around so freely and with outright disdain in a movie from 1950 is shocking in and of itself. We're just used to hearing that word now with the safe distance of historical perspective or even irony, but in 1950 that word had a lot more impact.

The film is also not a feel-good story in any way. Poitier plays a young doctor assigned to carrying for a pair of crooks (one played by Richard Widmark) who have been wounded during a robbery attempt. When one dies in his care, the other (Widmark) rails against Poiter's character, faulting for purely racist reasons.

And while the film has some old fashioned elements and clearly wears its 'racism is wrong' attitude on its sleeve, I was struck by how uninterested the movie was in providing a comforting resolution. Widmark's character does not evolve and embrace equality. And while Poitier's character achieves a measure of vindication, you also sense he will continue to suffer unfair indignities long after the credits stop rolling.

His revisionist western Buck and the Preacher is even more of a breath of fresh air. The film was one of the first (and still one of the only) films to deal honestly with the role of blacks in the American west. In this film Poitier plays a wagonmaster who helps transport freed slaves to safe harbor, which naturally has him running afoul of racist mercenaries. It also has him crossing paths with a brilliant Harry Belafonte, who plays a wannabe evangelist.

This is no mere buddy film though, although the chemistry between Poitier and Belafonte is terrific. The film deals with the tenuous relationship between newly freed African-Americans and Native American populations, while exploring the challenges this community faced trying to carve out a slice of the country for themselves amid entrenched racism.

Although in some ways blaxploitation was a direct reaction to Poitier's earlier fairly sexless roles, this is probably the closest Poitier ever came to playing a badass hero (his name is Buck after all) and the part fits him well. He has the gravitas and charisma to play both the action scenes and drama with equal flair, and the movie has an emotional power that sneaks up on you.

This film was reportedly Poitier's personal favorite of his own and after seeing it on the big screen its easy to see why. It features breakout performances from black Hollywood royalty like Ruby Dee, and it also was the rare film at that time told totally from an African-American perspective.

It, like so much of Poitier's work, is ripe for rediscovery and appreciation.