DAISY KENYON: Blu-ray (2oth Century-Fox, 1947) Kino Lorber
Director Otto Preminger’s
Daisy Kenyon (1947) is a preposterous woman’s weepy wrapped in the
enigma of a faux film noir. It is a picture only a house-bound, middle-aged
frump with no outside interests and a streak of sadomasochism could enjoy today.
The oft regurgitated plot involves Joan Crawford’s eponymous and
semi-successful woman-of-the-world; Manhattan graphic artist, Daisy Kenyon -
haplessly torn between two feckless love interests. The picture is weighed down
by an oddball performance from Henry Fonda as one of Daisy’s hunk du jour,
emotionally scarred war vet, Peter Lapham and, Dana Andrews (2oth Century-Fox’s
biggest male headliner) as slick and slimy attorney at law, Dan O’Mara. Crawford
– about to crest in her second wave of stardom at Warner Bros. is on loan out
to Fox here - this big screen adaptation of Elizabeth Janeway’s best seller,
published two years prior. And Crawford, all vim and vigor, occasionally with the
anticipated streak of bittersweet regret she was renowned for exhibiting in
classics like Mildred Pierce (1945) and Humoresque (1946) is
already on the downswing in Daisy Kenyon, seemingly just going through
the motions, while ticking off all of the prerequisite ‘boxes’ in human emotion,
trademarked by her extraordinarily expressive visage, and, that her most ardent
fans expected. Very soon, Crawford’s handsome face would be turned to granite,
with an even more unsettlingly mannish slant to emerge in pictures like Torch
Song (1953 – and a disastrous attempt at a musical) and Johnny Guitar
(1954 – an ill-fated western drama for which Crawford and Mercedes McCambridge –
both recovering alcoholics, became embroiled in a battle royale – both on and
off the screen). So, it is saying much
that while David Hertz’s screenplay never rises above the drivel of a
three-hanky lamentation about a woman’s place in pre-fifties America – desperate
for affection, and, therefore, dictated to by the men competing for her
affections – Crawford makes this Mickey Mouse of a martyr mostly watchable, if
never entirely digestible.
Daisy’s biggest quandary
is that she cannot decided between two men – lover, O’Mara, who treats both her
and his wife, Lucille (Ruth Warrick) deplorably, but with that sort of
ass-grabbing ‘I’m in charge’ male machismo that ladles the guilt on
thick, making him sound like the only – if not the best of all possible
alternatives to ever-lasting happiness, and, Peter – whose first wife died in a
car accident and now harbors a bitterness towards the world at large only Daisy’s
touch can soften and humanize. Daisy does not think much of Peter – initially. Indeed, his unvarnished confidence and frank
honesty are refreshingly unsettling and new to Daisy, used to Dan’s deceptions –
almost to the point where she believes she does not deserve any better. Daisy’s
heart has been poisoned by Dan’s manipulative charm. But Daisy’s a forthright
girl, though Crawford, much too old for the part, brings a quality that only a
woman of her maturity could make real. So, Daisy slips through Dan’s fingers
and marries Peter. It isn’t joy galore, however, as Daisy still loves Dan and
is finding it difficult to make her marriage to Peter work, despite his
easy-going virtue and patience.
The third act of
Daisy Kenyon is overwrought with romantic treacle. I’m thinking of an
Elinor
Glyn novel here, made even more shallow by Crawford’s monumentally stupid and
lampoon-ish turn as the Minnie Fiske of her generation. Daisy and Peter forego
the flash and bustle of Manhattan and retire to a cottage in the country. Nevertheless,
Daisy continues to work. After all, someone has to bring home the bacon. So, Daisy
supports Peter in his post-war ambitions to reinvigorate his pre-war passion
for designing sailing ships. Peter is oft morose and distant, but occasionally
exhibits signs that his melancholia might be coming to an end. Well aware of
Dan’s sway on his wife, despite her protestations at having overcome his
advances, Peter tolerates Dan’s infrequent re-appearances in both their lives.
However, when Lucille finally decides she has had quite enough of her husband’s
philandering, she files for a divorce, using custody of their two daughters,
Rosamund (the superb, but woefully underused child actress, Peggy Ann Garner) and
Marie (Connie Marshall) as leverage to wound Dan. Rather sheepishly, Dan pleads
with Daisy and Peter to allow him full disclosure of his ‘former’ attachment
with Daisy at trial. Believing Dan’s divorce means Daisy will likely return to
him after the details are finalized, Peter graciously bows out, acknowledging
that, while he may have desperately needed Daisy to ease him through this
difficult period in his life, he certainly does not need her anymore.
The divorce
proceedings commence. Only now, Dan truly empathizes with what the quagmire of
his callous behavior has cost Daisy – arguably, the only woman he ever truly
loved. To spare her public embarrassment, Dan calls a halt to the trial before
she can testify. Nevertheless, Dan pursues Peter to sign divorce papers so he
and Daisy can be reunited, even though she is quite unaware of his plans and,
in fact, has begun to realize how much she truly loves Peter. At this juncture,
Daisy decides to go away, taking the badly needed respite from all this high-stakes
love drama, hopefully to get her head screwed on straight. Alas, fate
intervenes – dramatically – with a car wreck along a snowy country road. Daisy overturns
her automobile and narrowly survives the hellish accident. But her near-death
experience has crystalized one aspect of her life that needed clarification.
Daisy loves Peter – not Dan. Armed with this newfound epiphany, Daisy makes it
back to the cottage where she finds both men awaiting her return. She
reiterates her love for Peter and politely asks Dan to leave. He does, oddly
enough, on very good terms, and, Daisy and Peter reconcile. Peter is the
understanding sort. So, in short-shrift, all is forgiven and ends happily ever
after – at least, for Daisy and Peter.
Daisy Kenyon is a real
head-scratcher. For although it is represented by some of the biggest names in
the biz, it really has very little to offer. Joan Crawford delivers a credible
performance as a woman coming to terms with her own conflicting emotions. It is
a nuanced turn, but one we have seen to better effect elsewhere in her
6-decade-expansive movie career. Both Henry Fonda and Dana Andrews were big
stars at the time; Fonda, having endured an absence off the screen while
serving his country during WWII, newly returned and eager to jump-start his
post-war career. During this interim, Andrews’ star had risen at Fox, appearing
in two of the biggest hits from the war years – 1944’s uber-chic murder
mystery, Laura (also for Preminger), and, William Wyler’s
multi-Oscar-winning classic, The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). Joan Crawford’s
cache was such that she could demand her pick of male co-stars. Crawford and
Fonda had a brief tryst during the making of Daisy Kenyon – the two independently
involved in awful marriages already gone south at the start of production. However,
the affair du Coeur between Fonda and Crawford did not outlast the making of
this movie. Ah me, Hollywood in the old days. So, what’s changed? As for Otto Preminger – renowned for his
sadistic streak, and, maniacal control, he seems, if not to have entirely
dropped the proverbial ball on Daisy Kenyon (as it is competently made),
then – at least – has abandoned his usual invested passion to make a rather
dull and run-of-the-mill melodrama. Viewing Daisy Kenyon today, and
comparing it to Preminger’s other master strokes of genius from the period,
there is no flair here; the picture, possessing a rather pedestrian appeal at
best, and typical of any Fox film made by a novice director during the forties,
with a real work-a-day ennui creeping in on all sides.
Daisy Kenyon arrives on
Blu-ray from Kino Lorber’s alliance with Fox Home Video in a pretty shabby hi-def
presentation. Contrast is weak. There are no true blacks and whites frequently
bloom. The image is soft, with only close-ups distinguished with a light patina
of fine detail. Age-related streaks and dirt are present, though not to egregious
levels. Film grain is practically non-existent, leading one to speculate DNR
has been rather liberally applied to homogenize the visuals. The DTS 1.0 mono
is adequate, with David Raksin’s Laura-esque score and main title
sounding spiffy. Kino has ported over all of the extras that were included on Fox’s
DVD release of Daisy Kenyon from 2004. These include a fifteen-minute
reflection on the movie – jam-packed with commentary from noted historians and
the children of Dana Andrews and Otto Preminger, plus, another critique of Preminger’s
work in general, with clips from Laura and other movies. It runs almost
a half-hour and also features the director’s daughter, waxing affectionately about
her late father. Foster Hirsch weighs in
with an informative audio commentary too. There is also an animated stills
gallery and theatrical trailer for this and other Fox/Kino catalog the studio
is hoping will be of interest. Bottom line: Daisy Kenyon is disposable
fluff and nonsense. This Blu-ray inadequately represents the true sheen and
gloss of Leon Shamroy’s superb B&W cinematography. Pass – and be glad that you did.
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
2.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
2.5
EXTRAS
3.5
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