Robert J. Maxwell The movie opens in a Swiss hotel in the 1880s, with young Randall emerging from his room and committing acts that justify Oscar Wilde's recommendation that children should be struck regularly like gongs.Then we are introduced to some tangled social relationships involving mainly Cybill Shepherd as Daisy and Barry Brown as a fellow American who wants to be her suitor. They meet in Vevey, Switzerland, and again in Rome. Brown discovers that established European and ex-pat American society considers Daisy reckless in that she waltzes around in public with men on her arm -- sometimes arms -- and is rumored to have been "intimate" with the family courtier. In other words, she'd defying all these mores with her American willfulness. Brown is caught between two worlds and is only willing to remain in this conflict because of his love for Daisy. But even he, an American, is surprised and disappointed when Daisy begins seeing an Italian and smooching him under her parasol. In any case, she solves the problem by malaria ex machina.I understand that Henry James' novella was a slight work and difficult to transpose to the screen. I never read it myself. But it's all laid out in plain celluloid in this adaptation. There are no directorial fireworks. None at all. It's done in the classic style that director Bogdanovitch feels comfortable with. Maybe he uses traditional techniques a bit too much. There are innumerable close ups, more than would ever appear in something by John Ford, Howard Hawks, or Orson Welles. And when a character is about to project some important communication, the camera moves in meaningfully, just so we get the point. The scene in which Brown learns of Daisy's death is very decorously handled though, shot through a lace curtain and rendered in barely audible Italian.But the film has a fundamental problem. What makes Daisy so attractive? Of course Cybill Shepherd is beautiful but that's about it. She prattles on breathlessly like a bipolar in a manic episode. She taunts Brown maliciously. She willingly and knowingly violates the local conventions. That's not American independence. That's self indulgence. Nor does she show any interest in historical structures or art or, indeed, anything else that doesn't impact her body sheath.Watching it, I sensed a painful intensity behind the production, as of trying too hard, but I may be wrong.

Steven Torrey This is a film adaptation of Henry James' Novella, "Daisy Miller." It is available on YouTube with annoying sub-titles.Cybil Shepherd more than adequately interpreted James' character, Daisy Miller. Something of an insubstantial flibbertigibbet, Miss Shepherd conveys that with a speeded, clipped speaking pattern. Never mind, the character Daisy Miller has something of a self-centeredness to her, to the point of self-destruction.The other principals were more than adequate, but that is why they get paid the sums they do.Peter Bogdonavich attempted fidelity to James' novella. But an important part of the James novella is the role of the omniscient narrator unfolding the story through interior monologue, a voice over, if you will; but not quite a voice over nor really similar to voice over.While Frederick Winterbourne provides the first person omniscient narrator, the reader is not fooled that this is Henry James speaking through Winterbourne. And James/Winterbourne can make any number of comments (ironic or snide) and observations that do not appear in the overt spoken dialogue of the story line.Look at James' narration following the opening gambit of dialogue: "The young lady inspected her flounces and smoothed her ribbons again; and Winterbourne presently risked an observation upon the beauty of the view. He was ceasing to be embarrassed, for he had begun to perceive that she was not in the least embarrassed herself. There had not been the slightest alteration in her charming complexion; she was evidently neither offended nor flattered. If she looked another way when he spoke to her, and seemed not particularly to hear him, this was simply her habit, her manner. Yet, as he talked a little more and pointed out some of the objects of interest in the view, with which she appeared quite unacquainted, she gradually gave him more of the benefit of her glance; and then he saw that this glance was perfectly direct and unshrinking. It was not, however, what would have been called an immodest glance, for the young girl's eyes were singularly honest and fresh. They were wonderfully pretty eyes; and, indeed, Winterbourne had not seen for a long time anything prettier than his fair countrywoman's various features—her complexion, her nose, her ears, her teeth. He had a great relish for feminine beauty; he was addicted to observing and analyzing it; and as regards this young lady's face he made several observations. It was not at all insipid, but it was not exactly expressive; and though it was eminently delicate, Winterbourne mentally accused it—very forgivingly—of a want of finish. He thought it very possible that Master Randolph's sister was a coquette; he was sure she had a spirit of her own; but in her bright, sweet, superficial little visage there was no mockery, no irony." That dialogue has to be filled in by the camera without commentary; the commentary/observation must be made by the audience which may or may not (mostly not) fill in. What the author saw as important, and the videographer saw as important, the audience may overlook completely. The omniscient narrator gives voice, while the videographer interprets that interior monologue and records in silence.So to say the film is 'faithful' to James' text is to speak to a lie and misunderstanding of the author's intent, the author's aesthetic, something that few films can capture without an extensive omniscient narrative voice over.The movie was worth seeing to revisit James' novella; it was competently produced with competent acting. But as always with any film adaptation of a novel too much subtly is lost, too much reliance on the audience to fill in the blanks, a capacity the audience may lack.

robscoe49 Translating the Henry James novella "Daisy Miller" into a movie was difficult,owing to an insubstantial story line. However, Peter Bogdanovich had it fleshed out considerably to showcase Cybill Shepherd (who was woefully miscast in the role.)Instead, Bogdanovich unwittingly memorialized another, much more talented performer for posterity.The movie begins in the hallway of a Swiss resort hotel, circa 1880. A rank of freshly-blackened boots and shoes stand just outside each door. A small boy, Randolph Miller (James McMurtry) retrieves his boots, leaves his apartment, and after stealing a walking stick downstairs, saunters outside, demanding a lump of sugar from the languid, yet congenial Frederick Winterbourne (Barry Brown) who is trying to read a newspaper.Frederick then falls into conversation with a young, garrulous woman, Daisy Miller, the young boy's sister (Cybill Shepherd), and agrees to accompany her to visit a castle, the Chillion.In a surrealistic scene, where Frederick and his aunt, Mrs. Costello (Mildred Natwick) are drinking tea (fully dressed, in a public bath in water up to their chests), Mrs. Costello warns her nephew away from involvement with the vulgar, nouveau riche Miller menage (daughter, son, and mother.)That evening, Winterbourne meets Daisy and her mother during a walk, and Daisy tries to wheedle an evening boat ride with Winterbourne, but is dissuaded by the family courier, Eugenio.The next day, Winterbourne takes Daisy to the castle and attempts to tell her its history, but Daisy is unimpressed and instead, chides Frederick about his older mistress in Geneva. She does, however, extract a promise from him to visit them in Italy next year.While in Rome with his aunt, Frederick Winterbourne attends a party hosted by a Mrs. Walker, a sardonic woman who enlightens Winterbourne about the gossip swirling around Daisy. Daisy has taken up with a local adventurer, Giovanelli, thus adding fuel to the scandal.Mrs. Walker tries to get Frederick to stop Daisy from parading around publicly with Giovanelli, but Daisy refuses, and Frederick (witnessing the two kissing behind Daisy's parasol) - storms off, enraged.When Daisy brings Giovanelli to a party of Mrs. Walker's and persuades him to sing, Mrs. Walker thinks Daisy is presumptuous and cuts her cold.In a rented hotel room (where Giovanelli and Daisy are practicing songs on a grand piano), Daisy torments Frederick by telling him that she and Giovanelli are engaged.Afterward, riding at nighttime in a friend's carriage, a morose Frederick disembarks at the ruins of the Colosseum. Hearing laughter, he follows the sound and finds Giovanelli and Daisy, chatting. Winterbourne upbraids Giovanelli for exposing Daisy to the malarial night air, then leaves, feeling betrayed.However, during an opera performance Winterbourne is told that Daisy has contracted malaria and rushes to her side, where he learns from her mother that Daisy was not engaged to Giovanelli (who has deserted Daisy), but was trying to make Frederick (for whom she actually cared) jealous.As Frederick is bringing Daisy a bouquet of flowers he learns the tragic news: Daisy has died.At Daisy's grave site are Daisy's mother, her brother, Mrs. Walker, Eugenio, Frederick, and belatedly, Giovanelli (who tells the heart-stricken Frederick that "Daisy was an innocent girl", thus confuting all the lies surrounding her.)The others leave the grave site except Frederick, who stands there, wraith-like, as the mists envelop him...As Daisy Miller, Cybill Shepherd was the wrong choice: too old, and no natural spark, or empathy connecting the characters of Winterbourne and Daisy. Ms. shepherd chattered her lines as though running the four-minute mile, and her delivery was by rote, without the vibrancy necessary for a convincing performance.Modeling is Ms. Shepherd's métier; acting isn't.Performances by such professional actresses as Mildred Natwick and Eileen Brennan were excellent. Ms. Natwick was convincing as Frederick Winterbourne's stuffy, socially correct aunt, and Eileen Brennan was delightfully feline as she unsheathed her claws over the faux pas of the outrageous Daisy Miller.Duilio Del Prete (Giovanelli) provided comic relief as the ingratiating adventurer, and James McMurtry (Randolph) makes childlessness look inviting.The real kudos, however, belong to the actor who actually carried the movie, and who, in the past, has been unjustifiably blamed for its failure. I am referring to the late, incomparable Barry Brown.Barry brown was a phenomenal screen presence, and if he had lived when Hollywood was still king, he would have become a screen legend. (An early, tragic death cut a promising career short.)Barry Brown was extremely handsome, charismatic, and intellectual. his large, lambent dark-brown eyes in his highly expressive face were capable of conveying a multiplicity of emotions throughout the movie, ranging from pleasantness through anguish, all the way to dark, smoldering hatred.In fact, prior to the filming of "Daisy Miller", Brown sent the producer, Peter Bogdanovich a five-page précis of his own impressions and psychological insights into the James novella.To explicate his upcoming interpretation of the Winterbourne role, Brown contrasted French vs. German formalism, citing Immanuel Kant's "The Critique of Pure Reason" to substantiate his argument. In other words, Barry Brown was an actor who could both act - and think.However, there was apparently a "falling out" on the set, and the failure of the film consigned Barry Brown to the purgatory of "box office poison."As acting jobs became fewer, Brown fell deeper into alcoholism and depression, and ultimately, this sensitive troubled young man committed suicide in 1978, at the age of 27.This motion picture may have been called "Daisy Miller", but Barry Brown's acting ability was its most valuable asset. If you watch "Daisy MIller" for one reason only, watch it for Barry Brown's compelling performance as Frederick Forsyth Winterbourne.

marcslope 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.