Actress, Daisy Miller (1974) |
Trying to make that little thing he's with [ie Cybill Shepherd, Bogdanovich's girl-friend] into Daisy Miller was hilarious. God almighty couldn't do that. She's so coy. |
(Henry Hathaway) |
The very few times Miss Shepherd does not sound like a recorded message played at accelerated speed, she sounds like a ponderous coquette belaboring her gentlemen with a cleaver - a verbal Lizzie Borden. |
(John Simon, National Review) |
Actress, At Long Last Love (1975) |
Cybill Shepherd is a leading lady who can neither sing nor dance and who apparently thinks badinage is something you put on a small cut. |
(Vincent Canby, New York Times) |
Cybill Shepherd, Mr B's inamorata, plays a poor little snotty rich girl with a notion of sophistication that is underpassed onIy by her acting ability. (I will not even sully my pen by making it describe her singing and dancing.) If it weren't for an asinine superciliousness radiating from her, Miss Shepherd would actually be pitiable, rather like a kid from an orphanage trying to play Noel Coward. In fact, she comes across like one of those inanimate objects, say, a cupboard or a grandfather clock, which is made in certain humorous shorts to act, through trick photography, like people. Well, Bogdanovich is truly in love with Miss Shepherd, so one cannot call his slapping her into the lead of almost every one of his films the casting-couch approach; yet even those crude old-time producers who did have the crassness to use that method at least had the good sense to cast the girl, not the couch. |
(John Simon, National Review) |
Her singing voice, which is as sing-songy as her speaking voice, causes one to yearn for the days when Marni Nixon dubbed in the songs of every tone-deaf Hollywood leading lady. As for Shepherd's dancing, the best to be said is that it may not be recognizable as such: when this horsey ex-model starts prancing around, she tends to look as if she's fighting off a chronic case of trots. |
(Frank Rich, New Times) |
Actress, Taxi Driver (1976) |
The fact that she [Betsy] is played by the supremely untalented Cybill Shepherd, who here sinks to new depths of unblinking smugness coupled with prefabricated come-hither inflections, adds further layers of needless obscurity. Her presence is not even a tribute to Scorsese's healthy appetites: having gained weight, most noticeably in the face, she looks like Mussolini in drag. |
(John Simon, National Review) |