There are two moments in Otto Preminger’s film Daisy Kenyon (1947) when the music of David Raksin swells only to be cut short abruptly. This music begins non-diegetically to underscore a dramatic beat but ends as diegetic when Dana Andrews turns off Joan Crawford’s turntable. This is the overall operation of Preminger’s film in a nutshell. He delivers classical Hollywood melodrama then immediately undermines and subverts those moments.
The spaces in Daisy Kenyon are almost all interiors of New York City apartments with unbelievably high ceilings as if they were part of some stage play. Characters traverse these spacious dwellings in wide shots that highlight the plasticity of the studio sets while simultaneously making room for all the long shadows and arched door ways. The interior locations of Daisy Kenyon reflect the interiority of the titular character.
Scenes in Daisy Kenyon revolve around entrances and exits through the aforementioned large arched doorways. The theatrical gesture of opening or closing a door is coupled with the interrupted movement of characters navigating the spaces that suggest character interiority. Space and character become one aesthetic operation that highlights the modus operandi of the “weepie”.
Daisy Kenyon is a film that is wholly concerned with the process of illusions. Preminger ostensibly pulls the curtains back on the melodrama and reveals the plastic artifice that subjugates the emotional reality of its title character. Daisy Kenyon is therefore both an affirmation of the merits of its genre and a hand grenade chucked into the bowels of big studio artistry.
