PG | 1 h 39 min | Drama, Comedy | 1989
A widowed, retired schoolteacher in her 70s who lives by herself in 1940s Atlanta, Daisy Werthan (Jessica Tandy), accidentally rams her car into a neighbor’s yard. So her doting son, Boolie (Dan Aykroyd), gets her another car, and a chauffeur in his 60s, Hoke Colburn (Morgan Freeman), in Bruce Beresford’s “Driving Miss Daisy.”
Apart from their age, they’re a study in contrast. Daisy is white, wealthy, Jewish, and barely over 5-feet tall. Over 6-feet tall, Hoke is black, jobless, illiterate, and deprived enough to nick a can of salmon from her pantry. Irascible, Daisy tries to get Hoke fired. Boolie, who pays his salary, will have none of it.
The Deep South simmers with racism and antisemitism, threatening both blacks and Jews. Daisy feels its heat when her synagogue is destroyed; Hoke feels it when his color reminds him of his station. So, they form an unlikely but lasting friendship for over 20 years, learning from each other, and she accepts Hoke not just as chauffeur but as a friend.
Atlanta-born Jewish screenwriter Alfred Uhry, whose Pulitzer Prize-winning play inspired the film, uses aging as a plot device. You see it in Hoke’s eventually fading eyesight and Daisy’s eventual forgetfulness. Here, aging reflects the relative vulnerability of the marginalized, whether Jew or black. But like the fragility of children, aging here is more natural than imposed, cherished rather than feared. It teaches interdependence, privileging empathy and trust over resentment and suspicion.
Mr. Beresford’s film, which won four of its nine Oscar nominations, exudes a deliberate slowness that mimics graceful aging. Daisy’s and Hoke’s shared respect for each moment replaces the hurriedness, and occasional thoughtlessness, of their younger days.
Initially, Daisy reminds Hoke of two things. She’s independent. And he’s an intrusion: “I don’t need you. I don’t want you. … You leave my flower bed alone. … I don’t want you nosin’ through my things. … You’re speedin’, I can see it. … You took the wrong turn!” Then, as she develops a respect for him, he gains a sense of dignity.
Everyday Confidences
First, Daisy in the backseat with Hoke driving, does nothing but fuss about something he’s done, or said, or not done, or not said. Later, she can’t bear the silence, confiding in him about everyday silliness, things she wouldn’t share even with Boolie. Before she knows it, she’s driving Hoke, in her mind’s eye as it were, to places in her past that she’ll share with him alone.Once on a long, leisurely drive, they pull over to lunch by a lakeside. He’s in front, outside, standing, leaning against the car, enjoying a break and a bite. She’s in the back, inside, sitting, gazing past the open door at the lake. Eyes fixed on those still waters, Daisy reminisces about her first trip, by train, to Mobile, Alabama, as a 12-year-old. She bites her lip at how excited she’d felt. She’d “never been” to a wedding party, had “never seen” the ocean.
Mr. Beresford’s camera sneaks up on Daisy, from to medium shot to medium close-up. Off camera, Hoke breaks the silence only to murmur his approval. As if in a trance, Daisy recalls how her Papa laughed when she’d asked if she could dip her hands in the water. “I was so timid,” she said and “tasted the salt water” on her fingers.
Then Mr. Beresford’s close-up. Daisy shuts her eyes, and purses her lips. She can almost hear the waves, feel the wind in her hair, and smell the salty breeze from decades ago.
