Across 110th Street, performed by Bobby Womack, accompanies the opening and the farewell in Jackie Brown. The repetition links two moments in which the protagonist is on the move, but her situation has changed. At the beginning, the music helps introduce a worker we do not yet know. At the end, it returns to a woman whose decisions we have followed and whose departure includes a separation. The memory of the first appearance alters what it means to hear it again.
The song comes from the soundtrack of the 1972 film of the same name. Tarantino brings it into a different story and gives its return its own function within the narrative. Its relationship with Jackie depends on the images, Pam Grier's performance and what we know as each scene arrives. The musical energy can accompany both the character's entrance and a farewell that still carries mixed emotions. That sonic continuity makes it possible to perceive the change without Jackie having to explain it through yet another dialogue.
In Jackie Brown, directed by Quentin Tarantino in 1997, Across 110th Street works as a point of comparison between the protagonist's first impression and the one she leaves behind when she departs. The film retains a recognisable musical reference while transforming the context. The effect depends on the distance between the two appearances and on the decisions Jackie makes between them.
Bobby Womack, J. J. Johnson and the song's origin
The Bobby Womack profile published by ABKCO places his work for the soundtrack of Across 110th Street in 1972 and confirms that Tarantino used the track at the opening and close of Jackie Brown. Qobuz credits the composition to Bobby Womack and J. J. Johnson. Rhino also includes it on the official album. That edition brings together a selection from the Jackie Brown soundtrack, where each song takes on a different function.
The filmic origin of the track adds a connection with seventies cinema. The recording arrives in Jackie Brown with a prior identity and goes on to accompany another heroine. This shift makes it possible to place the choice alongside the homage to blaxploitation cinema without turning the whole scene into a list of references. What matters here is what the music does for Jackie: it introduces her, returns to her and allows us to recognise her after her transformation.
Womack's place in soul also helps situate the musical choice. Within the uses of soul and funk in Tarantino's cinema, this case stands out for focusing attention on the same woman at two ends of the narrative. The song retains its identity as a recorded performance; the editing connects it to two experiences of the character and allows both to remain linked in memory.
At the opening: meeting Jackie before the conflict
The song accompanies Jackie Brown at the airport, when her uniform and movement present her within a work routine. The music gives her presence before the plot explains the difficulties of that life. The viewer can become interested in her without yet knowing her background, her deals or her fears. The character's entrance therefore carries a weight that comes before any information about the criminal case.
That order is significant. First we know her presence and only then the limits of her situation. The impression of security that the introduction may create later sits alongside the fear of losing her job and the pressure from those who want to use her. When we remember the opening, that security can be understood as part of what Jackie is capable of sustaining on the outside, even when she has reason to feel threatened.
The music contributes to that first impression without detailing a problem that has not yet been revealed. Its continuity allows the focus to remain on Jackie while the setting places her at work. The contrast between the prominence the film gives her and the occupational position she occupies will matter later: the character has resources that those negotiating with her may underestimate. The beginning prepares that interest without revealing how she will use her intelligence.
In the farewell: returning to a woman we already know
When the song returns, Jackie leaves behind the final meeting with Max. The farewell between Jackie and Max introduces a separation at the moment when she can set off on another path. The music accompanies her departure without resolving that mixture into a single emotion. The change of life she has achieved and the person left behind belong to the same scene.
The viewer now has something that was missing at the opening: knowledge of the effort required to get there. We have seen Jackie face pressure, negotiate and commit to a plan. For that reason, the song's return can take on a sense of recognition. The woman introduced at the beginning has shown resources that that entrance could only hint at. The repetition preserves the connection with her while making the accumulated experience perceptible.
The relationship between movement and decision also changes. The airport placed her within work; behind the wheel, her departure belongs to the outcome of what she has done. The song links those two images of movement. The musical continuity makes it possible to appreciate that she is still Jackie, with a history she carries with her, even though she can now choose something that seemed beyond her reach at the start.
The energy of the track can hold that achievement alongside the sadness of the farewell. Grier's image adds a personal nuance that prevents the ending from being reduced to the celebration of victory. Music and face can express different aspects of the same moment. The film ends with that combination: the protagonist has expanded her possibilities and can still feel the cost of a separation. The musical return shapes the ending without showing or guaranteeing what comes next.
The voice that accompanies Jackie belongs to Womack. That separation between singer and character is significant: an external musical performance can bring us closer to her experience without becoming a monologue she speaks herself. The film lets sound and image work together, preserving what each contributes. The song keeps a recognisable voice, and Grier gives that voice a human context different from the one it had in its original recording.
In the farewell, that arrangement allows Jackie to remain at the centre without adding a verbal explanation of her feelings. The face can admit an emotion that the music does not have to describe exactly. Attention shifts from trying to work out what she should feel to observing how the consequences of her decision coexist. The song sustains the continuity of the moment while the image preserves its nuances. That space for interpretation is especially apt for someone who has spent much of the story choosing what to say and what to keep back from others.