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 working woman we do not yet know. At the end, it returns to a woman whose choices we have followed and whose departure includes a separation. The memory of the first appearance changes 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 a function of its own within the narrative. Its relationship to Jackie depends on the images, Pam Grier’s performance, and what we know when each scene arrives. The musical energy can accompany both the character’s entrance and a farewell that preserves mixed emotions. That sonic continuity makes it possible to perceive the change without Jackie having to explain it in 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 as she departs. The film keeps a recognizable 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
Bobby Womack’s profile published by ABKCO places his work for the soundtrack of Across 110th Street in 1972 and confirms that Tarantino used the theme in the opening and closing 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 song’s cinematic origin adds a connection to 1970s film. The recording arrives in Jackie Brown with a prior identity and goes on to accompany another protagonist. That 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 with Jackie: it introduces her, returns to her, and lets us recognize her after her transformation.
Womack’s place in soul also helps frame 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 personality 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 her 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 meaningful. First we know her presence, and only then the limits of her situation. The impression of confidence that the introduction may create later coexists with the fear of losing her job and the pressure from those who want to use her. Remembering the opening, that confidence can be understood as part of what Jackie is able to hold together on the outside, even when she has reason to feel threatened.
The music participates in that first impression without detailing a problem that has not yet been revealed. Its continuity keeps the focus on Jackie, while the setting places her in a job. The contrast between the prominence the film gives her and the work role 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 encounter with Max. The farewell between Jackie and Max brings a separation to the moment when she can set out on another path. The music accompanies her departure without resolving that mixture into a single emotion. The new life she has achieved and the person she leaves behind belong to the same scene.
The viewer now has something that was missing in 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 start has shown resources that the first entrance only allowed us to suspect. The repetition preserves the bond 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 result of what she has done. The song connects those two images of movement. The musical continuity makes it possible to appreciate that she is still Jackie, with a story she still carries, even if she can now choose something that at the beginning seemed beyond her reach.
The energy of the theme allows for that achievement alongside the sadness of the farewell. Grier’s image adds a personal note 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 outside musical performance can bring us closer to her experience without turning into a monologue she delivers. The film lets sound and image work together, preserving what each contributes. The song keeps a recognizable voice, and Grier gives that voice a different human context from the one it had in its original recording.
In the farewell, that division allows Jackie to remain at the center without adding a verbal explanation of her feelings. The face can hold an emotion that the music does not have to describe exactly. Attention shifts from trying to determine 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 fitting for someone who has spent much of the story choosing what to say and what to keep to herself in front of others.