Daniel DeNicola

Mr. John Anderson

IN313

10/26/09

Daisy Miller: In Defense of Cybil Shepherd

Upon its release, Peter Bogdanovich's 1974 cinematic adaptation of Henry James's novella

“Daisy Miller” garnered pointed critical review. Variety bluntly described the film as “a dud,” a

seconded by TV Guide, which concluded the project was “hopeless.” Indeed, by and large “initial

reviewers of Bogdanovich's adaptation savaged the film” (Cross 137). What component of the screen

translation attracted the harshest criticism? While many reviewers and audiences took issue with

Bogdanovich's direction, arguing that “all the subtleties of James's novella were […] lost in translation”

(137), Cybil Shepherd's portrayal of Daisy Miller's eponymous heroine was generally “derided as inept,

vacuous and devoid of technique” (137). While Variety was kind enough to suggest she was “miscast,”

for example, TV Guide minced no words in citing her “shallow performance.” Bogdanvich's casting

was indeed controversial, as Shepherd was then his girlfriend and in light of the publicity of their affair

the choice was viewed as a “self-reflexive exercise” (Cross 128). But was Shepherd's ill-received turn

as Daisy truly a case of bad acting? Or was she simply misunderstood? Close reading of Jame's text,

contextualized by an understanding of the universal, fundamental tenets of acting technique and H.

Porter Abbott's reading of “character” as the inference of narrative action, reveals Shepherd's

interpretation to be highly specific and incisive.

To better judge Cybil Shepherd's acting, it is important that a clear definition of “acting” itself

be determined. What is “acting?” Generations of dreamers and gurus have grappled with this very

question across countless sets, stages and studios. To “act” is defined as “to do something; exert energy

or force; be employed or operative” (). Legendary acting teacher Sanford Meisner applies this

definition to the study of acting as performance: “The foundation of acting is the reality of doing”
(Meisner 16). A Practical Handbook for the Actor, written by students of playwright David Mamet and

actor William H. Macy, simplifies this thesis: “To act means to do” (Bruder, et al 13). Even more

specifically, teacher Bill Esper points to “this principle—the reality of doing--[as] the foundation of all

good acting” (Esper 23). Good acting, then, is grounded in action, or one's doing. However, does this

idea of doing extend to the performance of a literary character? As Abbott makes clear, looking to

action is the only means by which one can read a narrative's character.

Abbott sees “characters as constructions that we make […] in conformity with […] the implied

author” (Abbott 135). Characters are hard to understand, for “they are themselves some of narrative's

most challenging gaps” (132), and “an interpretation of the narrative stands or falls on how we fill this

gap” (133). Yet without action as the cornerstone of this construction, what is there to indicate

character? if characters are necessarily “active entities that operate through time” (130), then by default

“the great objective of narrative action [is] the revelation of character” (131). Henry James himself,

however, held that “character and action are inseparable […] indistinguishable” (131), even. Quoted in

Abbott, James states:

What is character but the determination of incident? what is incident but

the illustration of character?... It is an incident for a woman to stand up with her

hand resting on a table and look out at you in a certain way; or if it not be an

incident I think it will be hard to say what it is. At the same time it is an

expression of character. (131)

Abbott crystalizes James's philosophy on characters, saying “by their actions do we know them” (131).

An actor, approaching the script of a literary adaptation, must look to given actions as the building

blocks of character. In truth, “we cannot see inside character. We must infer” (133). That it may be

clear Shepherd's interpretation of Daisy is not only justified but built by James's own written portrait of

the young lady, it is from this source text that this reviewer will infer Daisy's character.

Generally, the delivery of her dialogue is most often cited as Shepherd's tragic flaw: ”in the
eyes of most critics Shepherd never really recovered from racing through her dialogue in the first

scene” (Cross 138), a valid point considering she continues to race through the dialogue for the rest of

the film as well. Yet it is evident in James's novella that doing so is not only appropriate, but

compulsory. An actress, asking the question, “What does Daisy do?” finds the answer in James's

description of Daisy's first encounter with Winterbourne: “she sat in a charming tranquil attitude; but

her lips and eyes were constantly moving […] and her tone was decidedly sociable” (Baym 324).

Indeed, the narrator says of Winterbourne that “it was many years since he heard a young girl talk so

much” (324). The dialogue itself supports this description. For example, all Winterbourne need ask is,

“And your brother hasn't any teacher?” to prompt an entire monologue:

Mother thought of getting him one, to travel around with us. There was a lady

told her of a very good teacher; an American lady—perhaps you know her—Mrs.

Sanders. I think she came from Boston. She told her of this teacher, and we

thought of getting him to travel around with us. he said he wouldn't have lessons

when he was in the cars. And we are in the cars about half the time. There was an

English lady we met in the cars—I think her name was Miss Featherstone;

perhaps you know her. She wanted to know why I didn't give randolph lessons—

give him ' instruction,' she called it. I guess he could give me more instruction

than I could give him. He's very smart. (323)

Thus does Daisy ramble, talking to Winterbourne for the first time “as if she had known him a long

time” (323). The narrator remarks “that she was much disposed towards conversation” (322), a

characteristic evident in subsequent scenes as well. In Chillon, Winterbourne is charmed by her

“garrulity” (334), and the narrator recounts that “of her own tastes, habits, and intentions Miss Miller

was prepared to give the most definite, and indeed the most favourable, account” (335). Later, during

their confrontation in the Colosseum, Winterbourne is at times speechless, but “Daisy chattered about

the beauty of the place” (354). All throughout James's novella, there is very specific justification for
what The New York Times sees in Shepherd's delivery as “breathless chatter” (Sayre). That may be a

critique, but serves as much as a compliment. For, returning to the actor's essential question, “What did

Daisy do?” The simplest answer according to James's narrator: “It might have been said of this

unknown young lady […] that she chattered” (Bayn 324).

If Shepherd's performance is, as demonstrated above, aligned with Daisy Miller as James wrote

her, why then did the film and its heroine meet with such hearty disapproval? Audiences may have seen

Bogdanovich's casting of Shepherd as self-reflexive, but Bogdanovich himself has implied that he

made the film explicitly to cast Shepherd as Daisy. He is quoted in Susan Griffin's Henry James Goes

to the Movies as saying, “on re-reading the book, it seemed to me that Henry James had Cybill in mind

when he wrote it. I thought, if James had gone to all this trouble to write this story for Cybill, the least I

could do was film it” (34). Michael Stragow, in his “Second Opinion” for The New York Times found

this statement to be one of Bogdanovich's “arrogant self-serving remarks” (qtd. in Griffin 43), an

assessment in keeping with the then-general public opinion of Bogdanovich and Shepherd as

themselves “reckless, star-cast lovers” (35). Under the circumstances—namely the public backlash

against the Bogdanovich/Shepherd affair which saw the director casually abandon his wife of a decade

and two children for the young starlet—“audiences reacted not the actual quality of [Shepherd's]

performance as James's ingenuous, young American girl rather to the perception created by the couple's

own public performances” (35). Yet it was Shepherd's performance, and not Bogdanovich's direction of

her per se, that bore the most biting hostility of the film's negative reception. Urjo Kareda is quoted as

saying, “I could not honestly tell whether or not Cybill Shepherd could act […] That pause for doubt

about her as an actress, and my inability to determine whether she acted Daisy Miller or happened upon

Daisy Miller [leaves] us not knowing whether she is in control of her performance, whether she knows

what she's doing” (41). Yet perhaps there is a compliment, however unintentional, wedged in there

somewhere; Bill Esper posits that “What people don't understand is that good acting—real acting—is

impossible to spot” (Esper 30).

 Bogdanovich's adaptation of “Daisy Miller” takes some liberties, as all adaptations must in the

translation from one medium to another. Yet it has been much maligned not for these liberties, but for

the performance of its leading lady. One particularly harsh review even accused Shepherd of “turn[ing]

Daisy into a little bitch goddess on a pedastal” (Cocks qtd. in Griffin 42). Yet careful consideration of

her choices as interpreter, evidenced by her on screen actions and affectations, reveal a a portrayal

deserving of greater respect. It is a close reading of James's original characterization of Daisy, deftly

performed by an obviously intelligent, capable young actress. In fact, Shepherd's acting—or doing, as

has been carefully defined above—represents a faithful if misunderstood inference of the character of

Daisy Miller as conveyed by her actions in James's novella. Cinematic history may find Daisy Miller

the film to be a failure, as a matter of cultural fact, but truly considerate critical analysis yields an

appreciation for a fully realized imagining of James's infamously foolish flirt. In light of both

Bogdanovich's and Shepherd's spotty careers, surely this work is a legacy worth defending.
 Works Cited

Cross, David. "Framing the 'Sketch': Bogdanovich's Daisy Miller." Ed. John Bradley. Henry James on

Stage and Screen. NY: Palgrave, 2000. 127-42.

Baym, Nina. "Daisy Miller." The Norton Anthology of American Literature, Shorter Seventh Edition,

Volume 2 1865 to the Present. Vol. 2. New York: W. W. Norton, 2007. 319-56. Print.

Bruder, Melissa, Lee M. Cohn, Madeleine Olnek, Nathaniel Pollack, Robert Previto, and Scott Zigler.

Practical handbook for the actor. New York: Vintage Books, 1986. Print.

"Daisy Miller Review - Read Variety's Analysis Of The Movie Daisy Miller." Variety. Web. 26 Oct.

2009. <http://www.variety.com/review/VE1117790204.html?categoryid=31&cs=1&p=0>.

"Daisy Miller Review." TVGuide.com. Web. 26 Oct. 2009. <http://movies.tvguide.com/daisy-

miller/review/112008>.

Esper, William, and Damon Dimarco. The Actor's Art and Craft William Esper Teaches the Meisner

Technique. New York: Anchor, 2008. Print.

Griffin, Susan M. Henry James goes to the movies. Lexington: University of Kentucky, 2002. Print.

Meisner, Sanford. Sanford Meisner on acting. New York: Vintage Books, 1987. Print.

Sayre, Nora. "Daisy Miller Review." The New York Times. 23 May 1974. Web. 26 Oct. 2009. <http://

movies.nytimes.com/movie/review?res=EE05E7DF1738B22CA04A4CC5B679988C6896>.