Daisy Miller

I agree with the above comments. Miss Shepherd's simpering performance sabotaged what was otherwise a very good film. Subtle, amusing in all the right places and well-directed by Peter Bogdanovich. Unfortunately Bogdanovich was so taken with Cybill Shepherd he failed to see that she was wrong for the part. She is outshone by a brilliant supporting cast including Cloris Leachman as the weak-willed mother and Eileen Brennan as a spiteful society woman. Henry James has never transferred well to the screen; one thinks of the disastrous "Portrait Of A Lady" where Nicole Kidman was colourless as Isabel Archer. This is about the best of the movies adapted from James (perhaps with the exception of "The Heiress" which was an adaptation of "Washington Square") and it benefits from its' sumptuous location photography - it was filmed in Switzerland and Rome.

Ms. Shepherd's fluttery, busy, yet essentially one-note performance undermines an effortful, well-pedigreed adaptation of a seemingly unfilmable work. The screenplay is nimble and witty, the photography lush, the locations dazzling, the supporting cast well-chosen -- how can anyone not respond to Mildred Natwick in anything? But it's all up to the star, and here, she's not up to it. Admittedly, Daisy is a shallow character, but a more thoughtful actress would give her more dimension (today, maybe, Gwyneth Paltrow could do it).

It's irresistible to consider the parallels between real life and reel life: The young Bogdonavich dotes on his leading lady as blindly as Barry Brown's character dotes on Daisy. But the poignancy is tempered somewhat when you consider that this nattering, uninteresting young lady would be absolute hell to live with.

Based on Henry's James novella, Peter Bogdanovich brings us a period dramedy about American high society in Europe of the 19th century. Daisy (Cybill Shepherd) is a strong willed young heiress, a woman out of her time who isn't afraid to tease and flaunt authority figures as well as men, much to the chagrin of 'polite' society. Fresh faced yuppie Frederick Winterbourne (Barry Brown) tries to wrap his head around this unusual young woman as they tour around the beauty of Italy and France.

While it may be dramatically lacking, there's something breezy, cheeky and appealing about Bogdanovich's once maligned film, much like its title character. Off the bat, the production values are stellar: it's sumptuously photographed with excellent period detail as we go around the sun drenched country and old cities of South Europe. Also, Bogdanovich doesn't shy from long takes, allowing actors to build up a lot of chemistry and back and forth between them as they banter about society and the landscape, which of course, masks their real intent. James' writing, adapted by Frederic Raphael, is laced with subtext while being rather amusing, especially by the usually stuffy nature of period pieces.

Now, one thing made fun of back during the original release was Shepherd's performance, seen as too ditsy and airy, but I disagree. Shepherd's skills as a comic actress allow her to be somewhere between cunning and insolent, as befitting such a character, and she works well with the far more straight, traditionalist Brown as Winterbourne. Supporting them capably are the likes of Cloris Leachman as Daisy's dotty mother, Mildred Natwick as Daisy's stern aunt and especially Eileen Brennan as the prim, snobby socialite Mrs Walker who serves an ideological counterpoint to Daisy and does it superbly.

What ultimately does hold back 'Daisy Miller' is, ironically, the material itself: it isn't terribly cinematic, beautiful as the landscape is. James' story is very heavy on dialogue and situation as opposed to action, making it feel more like a stage play in style than a screenplay. 90% of the film is characters just waxing philosophical and discussing gossip and combined with the comic slant, does take down any real dramatic stakes as there's not much to lose for our lead other than 'respect'. Bogdanovich seems to have embraced the cheek of Daisy moreso than any sort of deeper satire of social structures and the pomp of Americans which the story clearly leans towards. That being said, it was still rather enjoyable. Long before the Merchant Ivory years made frills and carriages a must for cinema, a sense of humour and the strong cast make this pleasant, if not particularly demanding, viewing.

For his first film un color Peter Bodanovich chose a most curious and arcane subject, 19th century novel by Henry James. Daisy Miller on screen is an Americaniized version of onr of those films that the Merchant-Ivory team do so well with for British subjects.

Our title role is played by Cybill Shepherd and Daisy is a rather ingenuous girl traveling with her mother Cloris Leachman and much younger brother James McMurtry. They're over from, Schenectady where the father made big money and employed a lot of the town.

The Millers are the subject of much gossip by other expatriate Americans like Mildred Natwick and Eileen Brennan. Mainly because they don't know the ropes and Daisy scandalizes them by going out unescorted and with European men who are after American virtue and money.

Barry Brown is Natwick's nephew and an expatriate student. He's the only one who finds Shepherd intriguing, but won't break convention.

Shot on location in Switzerland and Rome the film really captures the look and feel of 19th century Europe. Daisy Miller got an Oscar nomination for costume design. It's beaitifully crafted and sad that the film did not do so well at the box office.

I guess Henry James was out of season.

It almost feels mean to criticise Cybill Shepherd for being so unsuitable for this role, as she is so miscast. She plays the Daisy of the title, and is dull. When we first meet her, she's a pretty, spoilt, self-obsessed tease, and that's it. 90 minutes later that's still it. Barry Brown (Frederick) is, unfortunately, equally dull and one-note. Frederick chases Daisy, she teases him, and repeat until the end credits. That's a tough watch - especially when you've seen Ms Shepherd do it before, more concisely. Mr Brown has few expressions which give a hint of anything inside him that we may care to know more about. This film needed stars, or, at least, compelling character actors. The boredom is relieved by occasional flashes of melodrama in Eileen Brennan's eyes (but even they become repetitive), and some lovely photography, but the whole is empty of story, character, history, social milieu; even the dialogue goes on too much and is either commonplace or flatly rendered. There are moments of interesting observation, but there are scant. I shall read the Henry James story on which the film is based and try to work out what it was that the makers of this vacant film were striving for.