Great late Kennedy/early LBJ urban look to this film. A lot of it is set inside The Great Hipster Jazz Club with lots of Jackie hair do's on the gals and narrow black ties and glasses on the guys (horn rims for the Ofays and shades for the Brothers). You expect to see Lei Roi Jones, before he became Amiri Baraka, flagging down a cocktail waitress and Capote holding forth to Jill St. John (or vice versa). And there are three very good musical interludes featuring Satch, Mel and Sammy, respectively. Also, it's good to see Cicely Tyson just before she hit it big as well as Satch playing a character at least somewhat removed from himself.
Otherwise, this thing's a bore with endless, repetitive scenes of the title character either about to fall apart, falling apart or feeling guilty after falling apart, and Davis' performance, to put it at its kindest, is more energetic than nuanced. And Les and Tina Pine's dialogue is strictly from Squaresville, as they would have Adam say. C plus.
PS...Peter Lawford was forty two when this movie was made and easily looks sixty two. Ah, the vagaries of The Pack!
