Days of Daisy (Jeffrey, 2022)
For over a decade now, I’ve been firmly of the opinion that the weakest element of contemporary films, be they independent or studio driven, is writing. That is ironic, because when most of us think about independent productions, the budget differences may be more immediately noticeable in lighting, casting, sets … any number of the production elements.
But as a film like Days of Daisy so aptly illustrates, if a film’s story is engaging, production elements are rarely a detriment to one’s enjoyment or appreciation of it. If that makes it sound like Alexander Jeffrey’s and Paul Petersen’s screenplay is the real star … yes and no. The film still probably doesn’t succeed without a confident, commanding performance from Jency Griffin Hogan. And yes, one can give a confident and commanding performance of a relatively unassuming character. The confidence is evidenced in the trust of the material that allows the actor to resist the urge to overplay such a character’s vulnerabilities in order to endear sympathy rather than interest. Put an A-list cast in this movie and you have something like Gloria Bell, a film with beautiful performers doing all they can to sublimate their personae in order to convince you they are ordinary people.
What I am saying, though, is maybe sometimes it’s not just about performers trusting the material so much as writers giving them something more substantive than snappy dialogue that might play well in trailers. What I liked most about Days of Daisy was that every time the plot set up a conventional scene, the actors played it as something that was happening to real people. Take for example a mid-movie scene in which Daisy (Hogan) and Jack (Bryan Langlitz) have put the brakes on a potential relationship because of their differing aspirations regarding children. She wants them; he doesn’t. In some other film, this would be the spine or the whole story, the sum total of the relationship arc. And one character would be right and the other selfish. And the conflict would be resolved eventually by one or the other capitulating to the god of “true love” — the relationship (or need for it) trumping everything. Daisy and Jack have an actual conversation about it, one that does more than advance the plot — heck it actually stalls the plot in a very realistic way — it develops our understanding of the characters so that the plot elements have actual emotional stakes beyond just wanting the main characters to get what they want.
Similarly, when Daisy explores the possibility of a relationship with a man who seemingly has similar goals but with whom she has less chemistry, we see this not as a love triangle to drive the plot but as part of a character’s seeking to make meaningful choices about the situation life has put her in. Most comedies or romances are built on superficial misunderstandings, and they can be frustrating because one senses that issues could be resolved in 10% of the time if characters were even the tiniest bit introspective, intelligent, or direct. It is much easier to write (and then resolve) a formula conflict about misunderstanding because those can be easily resolved whenever the plot is ready to move on. Formula provides a half-dozen ways a character can have the truth presented to them. But what if a conflict isn’t based on misunderstandings but rather on actual, real, differences? What would working on them and through them look like?
Despite using the word “plot” a couple of times, I haven’t said much yet about the plot. I haven’t mentioned Daisy’s turning forty and her getting the speech about her biological clock ticking from a well-meaning but somewhat condescending doctor. Neither have I said anything about her job as a school librarian or her adopting an art class when the teacher quits mid-semester. I haven’t focused on them not because they are dull or uninteresting but rather because the plot elements are the vehicles that drive character development rather than ends in themselves. There’s little doubt that the students will find a venue in which to have their art show — what’s interesting and important is not what the eventual answer to their problem is but how navigating the situations reveals facets of the characters. (The script is quite generous to the supporting characters in a way comedies and romances rarely are, giving even the antagonists elements of humanity.)
One additional point — the screenplay is also refreshing in its refusal to tie everything up in a nice bow at the end. Plot elements are resolved but the meaning of the resolution is left for us to ponder. What is the difference between settling for less than your dreams and making the best of your current situation? How do you know when you really want something and when you are pursuing a goal for other reasons? What are the ways our culture simultaneously mythologizes motherhood and pathologizes actual mothers? There are a lot of interesting ideas floating around in Days of Daisy.
Days of Daisy (previously Daisy and Smiling Jack) has a world premiere at Dances with Films on June 14th. Keep an eye out for streaming venues to follow or…here’s a thought…ask your local independent theater (if you have one) to book the film.
