An adaptation of the novella by Henry James (by Frederic Raphael), this stars the lovely Cybill Shepherd as the title character. Annie P. Miller, a.k.a. Daisy Miller, is an American taking a tour of Europe with her dotty mother (Cloris Leachman) and her annoying, bratty kid brother Randolph (James McMurtry). Frederick Winterbourne (Barry Brown), a young man studying in Geneva, finds himself taken with her, but at the same time he's turned off by her outspoken, carefree attitude. In fact, Daisy does indeed set tongues wagging with her liberated ways in the high society of 19th century Italy. Frederick does try to talk some sense into her, but she won't be deterred from living life her way; she actually regards him as being something of a stiff.

Produced & directed by Peter Bogdanovich, this so-so film certainly *looks* great, with excellent set & costume design and use of locations. But it never really takes an emotional hold, at least not on this viewer. The cast, in general, is good: also appearing are the amiable Duilio Del Prete as the gregarious Mr. Giovanelli, Eileen Brennan as the disapproving Mrs. Walker, Mildred Natwick as Fredericks' similarly conservative aunt Mrs. Costello, and George Morfogen as the manservant Eugenio. Brown does a fine job in his co-starring role, but this adaptation can't overcome the miscasting of Shepherd. She's able to get out reams of dialogue in a breathless manner, shows some charm, and sings quite nicely, but she's simply not a good fit for this sort of setting or material.

The material does have potential as a portrait of irreverence and individuality in a time of strict manners and morals, but overall it doesn't quite hit the mark, despite the best efforts of the crew and supporting cast.

Six out of 10.

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.

I agree with the reviewer who finds Ms. Shepherd utterly wrong for the part, and quite destroying the film. Henry James is a much more subtle portraitist of Americans abroad during that period than either actress or director could represent. For a start, someone so obnoxiously shallow as Shepherd's Daisy, and whose attempts at vivaciousness and flirtation so blatantly stagy, that the young hero must have been an absolute dill to have been so smitten. Nor is the actress so beautiful (or really young) as to make his sexual infatuation credible. Still it could have been worse, it could have been the worst "simperer" of all time, Mia Farrow cast in the role. That would have been a pill. However, possibly her special brand of naive vulnerability may have made Daisy more sympathetic. Thank good EVERYONE ELSE in the cast (apart from an uncharismatic and therefore unconvincing, Duilio del Prete as Gionavelli) is not only believable, but put in amazing performances, especially Barry Brown, Cloris Leachman, Mildred Natwick and Eileen Bannen, all perfect in their roles.

The theme of innocence destroyed by the social environment, not to mention evil schemers (as in Portrait of a Lady) or in this case, symbolically, the natural environment ("Roman Fever"), or even supernatural environment (as in Turn of the Screw) is a really central issue in many of James's novels and stories. To feel sympathy for the protagonist, she (as the protagonist often is) has to have not only innocence (which is misconstrued, exploited and/ or finally shattered), but also a kind of unshakable moral core. This could be as simple as a confident and self-possessed disregard of convention, or a genuine moral belief of the rightness of one's own actions. It is often represented as a subtle character trait.

Although these themes are indeed present in the film, Bogdanovich' simply fails to capture the quiet intensity of James's work.