User Reviews

Respectable Brown gently pursues the flirtatious Shepherd who is innocent in the ways of the world but unwilling to adhere to societal rules much to the chagrin of her fellow Americans living in Italy.

Gentle exploration of whether the titular Miller is truly innocent or a flirtatious, manipulative young lady enjoying herself and to hell with society. It is quite charming and nicely cast - very little happens but by the tragic ending it becomes clear what is what and is ultimate rather moving.

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.

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.