Aloof, mechanical adaptation of an 1878 novella by Henry James, a short story which curiously attracted the attention of hot-property Peter Bogdanovich, a film director then riding high with a string of successful films to his credit. While showcasing Cybill Shepherd in the title role, Bogdanovich does give hint early on why this tale tempted him so: the breathlessly bemused bantering of the characters could be straight out of a Howard Hawks comedy from the 1930s (complete with exhausted patches), while the staging reminds one of a Noël Coward play. Shepherd's Daisy, American girl from Schenectady on vacation in Europe with her mother and little brother, captivates a handsome, worldly admirer (Barry Brown, who resembles Bogdanovich); his pursuit of Daisy becomes a game of catching-up, which brings words of disapproval from the surrounding members of high society, who attempt to warn the young man that Daisy's flirtatiousness spells trouble. As written, Daisy is supposed to be a blooming flower of a girl, but Shepherd seems too coached, too self-consciously frivolous to be convincing here. It would take a leap of faith for any audience to believe a sophisticated, if ultimately ambivalent, man of the world would take a passing interest in this innocuous creature. However, Shepherd does improve by the film's second-half, especially as the mood of the picture turns a bit more somber and Shepherd becomes a tad more thoughtful in her characterization. Several of the supporting performances are certainly superior (especially Eileen Brennan as the contemptuous Mrs. Walker and Duilio Del Prete as the dutiful Gionavelli). The finest work in the film comes from Brown as Frederick Winterbourne; clearly this is the character whom Bogdanovich identifies with, and Brown's grasp of this perplexed-yet-intrigued traveler makes an immediate connection with the audience (his performance is a life-raft we can hold onto). Despite flaws in the screenplay and the handling (and portions of the casting, including an annoying youngster I could have done without), the movie carefully makes its way to a touching conclusion. It isn't an involving picture, and it doesn't have a fluidity to it--nor a grand sweep--which might have made it an art-house success. Bogdanovich is occasionally static with his direction, as if his actors were on the stage, rapidly bantering in goosey spirits. Still, the filmmaker gets moments on film that dig a little deeper into loss and loneliness than I think he was given credit for at the time. The film's general design and style are rather disappointing, as is Alberto Spagnoli's cinematography, but "Daisy Miller" is not a failure. There is a heart underneath these smoke and mirrors. ** from ****