Nikki Finke put a piece up yesterday that I'm just now getting around to writing up, about how she doesn't at all miss the oId "Clockwork" Harvey Weinstein**, aka the Harvey who ran Miramax with all the subtlety of Tony Soprano (oh, come on, like you never noticed the resemblance there). Ms. Finke, who, to give her credit, certainly never fears writing exactly what's on her mind, recalls a meeting with Weinstein at the Peninsula Hotel that reads like a scene pitch for a Quentin Taratino movie (just picture Uma Thurman as Finke, and James Gandolfini as Harvey).

Weinstein, sayeth Finke, demanded asked for the meeting with her after she wrote a piece for New York Magazine (supposedly toned down by the mag in response to threats from Weinstein's legal team) that slammed Weinstein, accusing him of using heavy-handed tactics to secure the Oscar for Shakespeare in Love over Saving Private Ryan. Weinstein, Finke alleges, ordered her into a windowless room, where he proceeded, in what she likens to a "Clockwork Orange" experience, to yell at her for 90 minutes while she sat there wearing sunglasses indoors until he broke her into laughter by swearing on the lives of his children that he hadn't done any of the things she'd alleged.

It's hard to know without hearing a tape of what transpired exactly how accurate Finke's account of the interaction is, but it sure doesn't sound like a cozy lunch date. Personally, I don't think that, were I in Finke's position, I would have gone into a windowless room with Harvey Weinstein just so he could yell at me, even if there was someone else there to make sure I came out in one piece. Unless I had my handy-dandy little tape recorder in my purse, and intended to record the whole thing for a podcast. That would be something to hear, wouldn't it?

**I put this link in when I posted, but it didn't take. Thanks to the reader who pointed out the link was missing from the body of the story. It can also be found in the "read" link below.