Late to this but bear with me: Colman Domingo will reportedly make his feature directorial debut with Scandalous, a late 1950s period drama about an alleged romance between Kim Novak (Picnic, Vertigo, Bell Book & Candle) and singer-dancer Sammy Davis Jr., and the brutal, bigoted intimidation (Harry Cohn, Johnny Roselli, Mickey Cohen) that the pair faced once their relationship made the gossip columns.

Sydney Sweeney and David Jonsson are “in talks” to play Novak and Davis.

Just one problem: In March ’21 Novak told THR‘s Scott Feinberg that she and Davis never actually got down. Davis had the hots for Novak and certainly pursued her, an effort that resulted in at least one special date when Novak attended a Thankgiving dinner at the home of Davis’s parents, followed by Davis paying an impromptu visit to Novak’s family home in Chicago a few weeks later.

But there was never an “affair” to speak of…no sliding salami action, no D.H. Lawrence-level passion, no heavy breathing, no splendor in the grass, no making out in the car…nothin’.

Why would Novak, now 91, lie to Feinberg? In 2021 the Davis boogaloo had happened 64 years earlier.

Novak told Feinberg, in fact, that Davis may have done a Bill Cosby on her (i.e., fucked her while she was unconscious) after Tony Curtis, a close Davis pal, slipped her a Mickey Finn.

Davis was pressured by Columbia honcho Harry Cohn, or more specifically by mobsters Johnny Roselli and Mickey Cohen at Cohn’s request. Wiki excerpt: “The one-eyed Davis was threatened with the loss of his other eye or a broken leg if he did not marry a black woman within two days. Davis sought the protection of Chicago mobster Sam Giancana, who said that he could protect him in Chicago and Las Vegas but not California.”

In 1960 Davis and actress May Britt (still with us at age 90) not only had an actual interacial affair but got married. Like Jim Brown, Sammy obviously had a thing for white women.

Britt’s and Davis’s late daughter Tracey Davis (’61 to ’20) alleged in a 2014 book that the marriage to Britt resulted in President Kennedy‘s staff refusing to allow Davis to perform at JFK’s 1961 inauguration. The snub was confirmed by director Sam Pollard, who revealed in a 2017 American Masters documentary that Davis’s invitation to perform at the inauguration was abruptly canceled on the night of JFK’s inaugural party.

Davis and Britt divorced in 1968 after Davis admitted to an affair with singer Lola Falana.

And then, of course, Davis hugged Richard Nixon on the Republican National Convention stage in 1972.

I chatted with Davis at a late-night party in 1983. No charm or smiles, dark mood, not a happy camper.

Posted on 2.9.15: “Doggone, you wabbit…waaaahhhh!”

“Elmer Fudd was one of my first impressions. I wasn’t great at it but I wasn’t half bad. 

“I was just remembering that one of the first big laughs I got from classmates was when I recounted a chat with a 7th-grade substitute teacher, whose name was <strong>Mr. Hilse</strong>.  He was Swedish- or German-looking…slim, fair-haired, medium height. Kind of a dweeby type. Had a reedy, crackly voice and a very slight speech impediment — he had trouble with the letter “r.”

“Anyway the kids in Hilse’s class were all walking down the stairs one day and I, ever the exhibitionist, decided to hop down. Hilse: ‘Walk like a human being and not like a rabbit.’ Later that day I entertained my pallies by doing Hilse as Fudd: ‘…and not like a wabbit.’

“This was one of the most glorious moments that happened to me in seventh-grade, as I was pretty bad at paying attention or getting decent grades, and I was a complete failure with girls.  I had begun to find my voice. Diminish authority figures with derision, jokes…anything that made them seem small or petty.

Did you know that classic, generic, old-fashioned black loafers — the kind that were sold everywhere for decades — have all but disappeared these days? 2024-styled loafers are sold online, sure, but they’re butt-ugly. It took me almost a full hour to find a seller that has old-time loafers. Either you get the classic coolness of these shoes or you don’t.

29 years ago the word-of-mouth on Cutthroat Island was so bad that I never saw it. Never streamed it….nothing. The reason was director Renny Harlin — his handling of Cliffhanger had convinced me he was a flash-banger, and wasn’t very interested in internals. Even now I don’t want to see it.

To Donald Trump, Red Skelton may as well be speaking Swahili.

And are therefore a joke to Joe and Jane Popcorn. Outside of elite, off-the-planet wokesters, nobody and I mean nobody cares about the Gotham Awards and especially their bullshit, trans-kowtowing, gender-neutral acting categories.

That said, all hail Anora‘s Mikey Madison and Yura Borisov, who have been nominated in lead and supporting, respectively.

Best Feature

Anora
Babygirl
Challengers
A Different Man
Nickel Boys

Best International Feature

All We Imagine As Light
Green Border
Hard Truths
Inside The Yellow Cocoon Shell
Vermiglio

Best Documentary Feature

Dahomey
Intercepted
No Other Land
Soundtrack To A Coup d’Etat
Sugarcane
Union

Best Director

Payal Kapadia, All We Imagine As Light
Sean Baker, Anora
Guan Hu, Black Dog
Jane Schoenbrun, I Saw The TV Glow
RaMell Ross, Nickel Boys

Best Screenplay

Between The Temples
Evil Does Not Exist
Femme
His Three Daughters
Janet Planet

Breakthrough Director

Shuchi Talati, Girls Will Be Girls
India Donaldson, Good One
Alessandra Lacorazza, In The Summers
Vera Drew, The People’s Joker
Mahdi Fleifel, To A Land Unknown

Outstanding Lead Performance

Pamela Anderson, The Last Showgirl
Adrien Brody, The Brutalist
Colman Domingo, Sing Sing
Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Hard Truths
Nicole Kidman, Babygirl
Keith Kupferer, Ghostlight
Mikey Madison, Anora
Demi Moore, The Substance
Saoirse Ronan, The Outrun
Justice Smith, I Saw The TV Glow

Outstanding Supporting Performance

Yura Borisov, Anora
Kieran Culkin, A Real Pain
Danielle Deadwyler, The Piano Lesson
Brigette Lundy-Paine, I Saw The TV Glow
Natasha Lyonne, His Three Daughters
Clarence Maclin, Sing Sing
Katy O’Brian, Love Lies Bleeding
Guy Pearce, The Brutalist
Adam Pearson, A Different Man
Brian Tyree Henry, The Fire Inside

Breakthrough Performer

Lily Collias, Good One
Ryan Destiny, The Fire Inside
Maisy Stella, My Old Ass
Izaac Wang, Dìdi Y
Brandon Wilson, Nickel Boys

HE-posted 17 years ago:

I saw Close Encounters of the Third Kind three times during the initial 1977 run, but when I saw it again on laser disc in the early ’90s I began to realize how consistently irritating and assaultive most of it is from beginning to end.

There are so many moments that are profoundly irritating or stylistically affected or impossible to swallow.

The air-traffic controller scene is an exception, and by far the best scene in the film. The opening Sonora desert scene is also first-rate; ditto the mother-ship arrival scene near the conclusion.

Othewise I can’t watch CE3K now without gritting my teeth. Almost everything about that film that seemed delightful or stunning or even breathtaking in ’77 (excepting the scenes I’ve mentioned) now makes me want to jump out the window.

That stupid mechanical monkey with the cymbals.

Those little toys that suddenly activate and start moving around.

The way those little screws on the floor heating vent unscrew themselves.

Bob Balaban deciding to shout out his confusion about the brand new WW II-era planes found in the Sonoran desert…”I don’t understaaaand!”

The elderly couple waiting for the arrival of remote alien ships on the mountain road in the evening…somehow they know the ships are going to fly by! And after the ships appear, Spielberg has the smallest of them flash a light beam at a McDonald’s sign.

The way those Indian guys all point heavenward at the exact same moment when they’re asked where the sounds came from.

Melinda Dillon going “Bahahahhahhree!”

That idiotic invisible poison gas scare around Devil’s Tower.

That awful actor playing that senior Army officer who denies it’s a charade.

The way the electricity comes back on in Muncie, Indiana, at the same moment that those three small UFO drones disappear into the heavens.

The shut-down, mule-like resistance of Teri Garr‘s character to believe even a little bit in Richard Dreyfuss‘s sightings.

It’s one unlikely, implausible, baldly manipulative crap move after another.

The worst element of all is the way Spielberg has those guys who are supposed to board the mother ship wearing the same red jumpsuits and sunglasses and acting like total robots. Why? No reason. Spielberg just liked the idea of them looking and acting that way.

This is a prime example of why Spielberg‘s considerable gifts don’t overcome the fact that he’s a hack. He knows how to get you but there’s never anything under the “get.”