‎During the filming of A Patch of Blue (1965), Sidney Poitier made a choice that left an entire crew in silence — a moment that went far beyond acting.

 

‎During the filming of A Patch of Blue (1965), Sidney Poitier made a choice that left an entire crew in silence — a moment that went far beyond acting.
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‎In one of the film’s most powerful scenes, his character, Gordon, gently helps Selina, a blind white girl played by Elizabeth Hartman, understand what kindness feels like. In the script, he was only meant to comfort her with words. But sensing the weight of the moment, Poitier reached out and softly touched her face — a tender, human gesture that carried enormous risk in 1960s America.
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‎ When the cameras stopped, the set was completely still. Later, studio executives warned that the scene might “cause outrage” in the South and insisted it be cut. Poitier refused.
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‎“If truth offends,” he told them, “then maybe it’s time truth did.”
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‎Elizabeth Hartman, only 21 and painfully shy, later said Poitier’s quiet strength gave her courage to play Selina honestly.
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‎“He didn’t just act with me,” she said. “He protected me — and made me believe I was enough.”
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‎ The scene stayed in the film. When it premiered, some theaters in the South refused to show it — yet critics called it one of the most moving moments in American cinema.
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‎What was undeniably real on that set was the bond between Sidney Poitier and Elizabeth Hartman. She was only twenty-one, painfully shy, and making her film debut under the pressure of portraying deep trauma and vulnerability. Crew members later recalled how Poitier, already an international star, treated her with extraordinary gentleness — offering encouragement between takes, helping her navigate difficult emotional beats, and always speaking to her with a softness that contrasted sharply with the harsh world their film portrayed. His presence gave her a sense of safety she desperately needed to deliver one of the finest performances of her short career.
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‎Hartman’s portrayal of Selina drew immediate praise. Critics said she had an “almost otherworldly purity,” but what is less known is how heavily she leaned on Poitier for confidence. On set, her anxiety sometimes overwhelmed her, especially during scenes where Selina had to open herself emotionally to Gordon. Poitier never rushed her. He waited. He listened. He shared small jokes to loosen the tension. Director Guy Green later acknowledged that the chemistry audiences saw came not only from acting skill but from Poitier’s quiet commitment to protecting Hartman’s emotional space.
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‎And the risks Poitier took were real — not in that mythical face-touching moment often repeated today, but in every scene where he allowed warmth, tenderness, and dignity to pass between a Black man and a white woman on screen. In 1965 America, simple gestures — helping her sit down, guiding her hand, smiling at her with affection — could provoke outrage. The interracial kiss that was filmed sparked enough concern that MGM cut it from prints sent to Southern theaters. Poitier had been in this position before: he knew that even humanity could be seen as defiance. Yet he refused to blunt the character’s compassion.
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‎ The controversy did not stop the film from resonating deeply with audiences. Many viewers wrote letters praising Poitier for portraying a Black man who was intelligent, gentle, principled — a stark contrast to the racist stereotypes still common in Hollywood at the time. Others expressed shock that such tenderness could be shown “across racial lines,” proof of how far the country still had to go. But almost everyone agreed on one thing: the scenes between Gordon and Selina felt achingly sincere, neither sensational nor forced, but grounded in two damaged people discovering dignity in each other’s presence.
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‎Elizabeth Hartman would later say that A Patch of Blue changed her life. Though her career and personal struggles took a tragic turn in later years, she often spoke of Sidney Poitier with gratitude and admiration. To her, he was not just a legendary actor; he was the person who helped her believe she belonged on a film set. And Poitier, in turn, carried the role with pride — not because of any dramatic behind-the-scenes rebellion, but because he knew the film told a truth America needed to hear: that kindness between two human beings should never be a radical act.
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