Finished in 1965 and belatedly released a year later, 7 Women represents director John Ford's final bow on the silver screen after a long and extremely significant foray into the world of celluloid. Existing as something of an atypical swan song for the long renowned film-maker, the feature is one that suffers from an overall lack of ideas, but which also pulls this weakness to be its central force of power. Employing a recurring theme of empowerment in the face of defeat and a defiance of authority, blind-faith and outdated ideals, 7 women is at its heart, sixties film-making at its most empowering and critical. It may not be as elegant as other works of the decade, nor as moving, but blessed with a wonderful sense of character and performance, John Ford achieves one of his most significant works here with a piece of film that all things considered, should never be as such. I say this, mainly, because 7 Women is something of a canned movie. In this vein, the feature, like a few of Ford's previous efforts, feels like a play rather than a movie. Through this minimalist tone, Ford strikes a stern focus on character and theme, rather than obtuse action or plot—two elements which could have easily been given the spotlight by any other film-maker had they chosen to. You see, telling the story of a small missionary camp set up in a civil-war-torn China during the late thirties, 7 Women finds its roots in theatre drama, yet also mixes an element of danger into the mix too, outside of any inherent character conflict (though, one could argue such plot devices are perfunctory and only serve merely as a catalyst to explore these characters more effectively). Under the attack of a rogue gang of savage bandits known for their pillaging, torture, rape and murder of several nearby missionary outposts, Ford attempts to bring out the absolute base levels of his characters—to put them under the microscope to see who they really are. The results are interesting, albeit predictable, yet the overall experience boils down to one of subtle reflection. As mentioned above, and indeed more than made obvious by the movie's title, key to this somewhat somber approach is in the screenplay's devotion to character rather than plot; and what a character we have here. While ostensibly telling the story of the seven women staffed by the Catholic Church to help deliver these poor souls, the central point of Ford's story here instead chooses to focus on the black sheep of the bunch, Dr. Cartwright. Cartwright, played by an endlessly captivating Anne Bancroft, is a last-resort chain-smoking, binge-drinking, foul mouthed, pant-wearing doctor who would rather talk to the bottom of her glass than to the higher being in the sky everyone else around her seems content to confide in. Straight away Ford plays her as being as the misfit malcontent that she obviously would be in this situation, yet he does well to establish her as anything but incompetent with her duties. Following this theme through right to the movie's finest point (the very last scene which in itself is worth the ninety minutes that precede it), Dr. Cartwright ends up stealing the show at every turn—sure, there are ideas here about humanitarian needs outweighing those of a clergy (most of which are needlessly heavy-handed and all too frequent with no real penetration involved), and there are more than a few other interesting characters here, but for the most part 7 Women is much more the story of 1 Woman, and well, that's probably for the best. This isn't to say that there's not much to see outside of this wonderful pairing of Ford and Bancroft; it's just that this will be what you no doubt will take away from the feature as being its most enjoyable aspect. And with that said, it's important to stress that while 7 Women may not be as wholly enjoyable or entertaining or indeed significant as some of Ford's previous work, it nevertheless manages to stand on its own two feet—much like our beloved Cartwright—without pandering to expectations either of its audience or of its society at the time. Much like many films of the sixties, 7 Women is a daring and often compelling look at ourselves, whether through our hopes and dreams, our loves and faiths or our demons and tragedies. Not only that but it's the final statement of a director that gave cinema many of its greatest hours, and in that vein, 7 Women gains some significance without ever sacrificing its distinctly restrained and quietly contemplative mood.

'7 Women' is the story of Dr Cartwright, who dresses like a man, smokes, drinks, and swears like a trooper, and what happens when she arrives at a mission deep in a zone touched by revolution. The doctor is played by Anne Bancroft, and it probably is her best role. She's an atheist with humanity - when she eventually gives herself and her life to save everyone else in the mission from a fate worse than death, it isn't unexpected, although the women of God lose their strength and resolve in the face of fear.Well supported by cast members like Margaret Leighton, Sue Lyon, Flora Robson, and Anna Lee, this film, a John Ford film which is still a western in its spirit like the great entries in his oeuvre. Good strong storytelling with believable characters make '7 Women' unmissable.

A jewel of a film – with superb acting in the 2 principal roles! Should be shown much more often. Failings in the set and in the minor characters are more than made up for by the vital intelligence of the presentation. The film is about religion and sex, and nothing else – and it is that simplicity that makes it fascinating. Bancroft has the role of saint and Leighton is the sinner. Is the poor exposure of this excellent film anything to do with lobbying from the churches, I wonder - after all it must be somewhat embarrassing for them to have an atheist doubling as a saint and a devout catholic doubling as a religious maniac. The saint sacrifices herself for the majority, just as Jesus was sacrificed. The sinner showed the intolerance characteristic of all religious bodies. By the way, smoking and drinking had already been established for Hollywood characters long before 1966, male and female. It was pushed by lobbying and bribery from the tobacco and alcohol industries and Bogart was a prominent and pitiful victim. So I do not see the smoking and drinking of the Bancroft character as primarily male characteristics. As for the rather muted rudeness she displayed at times, this I see as a very natural reaction to the infernal hypocrisy of the Leighton character - a 'devout catholic' who does not even believe in God – "I am looking for something that does not exist" she says. What superb realism.The end of the film is the only part I did not think satisfying or realistic – in view of the character of the doctor. She is obviously a fighter and a very courageous woman. Her final action was cowardly and not in her character at all. All that was necessary was a few more days of cajoling the chief into sufficient liberty to get a horse to match her riding breeches - there were plenty of horses around – then kill the bastard, with perhaps a few more thrown in, and make for the main gate pronto.In conclusion, the film shows a riveting clash of values in a theater piece that hardly needs any set. And the atheist comes out a clear winner. Good for you John Ford!

Contains spoilers In this, his last feature film, John Ford moves from the Wild West which formed the setting for many of his best-known films to the Wild East. The film is set in 1935 in an American mission post in a remote area of Northern China, close to the border with Mongolia. The mission, which aims to bring Christianity to the local people, is mostly staffed by women, led by the formidable Miss Agatha Andrews. The life of the mission is disrupted by the arrival of a new female doctor, Dr Cartwright. Cartwright is very different to the pious ladies who make up the existing staff- she is foul-mouthed, smokes, drinks hard liquor, dresses in men's clothes and has no religious faith. She openly boasts of having had an adulterous affair with a married man. There is an immediate clash of personalities between her and the tough, authoritarian Miss Andrews. One of the staff is pregnant, and Dr Cartwright wants to get her to a modern hospital. Miss Andrews, however, refuses to authorise the release of mission funds for such a purpose.Further disruption is caused by the arrival of refugees from a nearby British mission, fleeing from a gang of Mongolian bandits. A cholera epidemic breaks out, and Dr Cartwright takes charge, proving herself to be a practical and capable doctor. The epidemic abates, but the threat of the bandits persists. Miss Andrews believes that they will not dare to attack American citizens, but she is proved wrong and the gang overrun the mission. Once again it is Dr Cartwright who saves the day through her skill in managing the bandits and their leader Tunga Khan. At the heart of the film is the clash between two different sets of values, the modern, secular values of Dr Cartwright, and the more traditional religious values of the mission staff, particularly Miss Andrews. As the title suggests, the film is largely about women- the only major male characters are Tunga Khan, an oafish barbarian, and Charles, the weak and ineffective husband of the pregnant Florrie- and these two competing world-views have very different concepts of what constitutes femininity. To Dr Cartwright, Miss Andrews and her colleagues seem repressed and ultra-conservative. To Miss Andrews, Dr Cartwright seems coarse and mannish. Paradoxically, however, although Dr Cartwright affects male dress, she seems to modern eyes (by which I mean those of 1966 as much as those of 2004) more attractive and feminine than the mission staff, all of whom, even the character played by Sue Lyon who was strikingly beautiful in real life, seem prim and dowdy. Although Dr Cartwright sees herself as a modern, liberated woman, when the mission is overrun by the bandits she is forced to use her feminine charms to deal with Tunga Khan, offering him sexual favours in exchange for more humane treatment of her colleagues. Miss Andrews disapproves of Dr Cartwright's flaunting of her sexuality, but there are hints (never fully developed) that beneath her prim exterior she herself may have lesbian tendencies. The relationship between her and her young assistant Emma certainly seems unnaturally close. In some respects 'Seven Women' is a feminist film; Dr Cartwright is a woman trying to make her way in a male-dominated profession, and there is a suggestion that she has been held back in her career by male prejudice. Some of the symbols of female emancipation used in the film, however, seem odd today. It is strange that a female doctor should indulge in smoking and heavy drinking to demonstrate how liberated she is; feminism is not just about equal rights to contract lung cancer and cirrhosis of the liver. In this respect the otherwise reactionary Miss Andrews seems more modern and enlightened than her antagonist. In my view, the film has a number of weaknesses. One lies in its often inappropriate casting. The best performance is from Anne Bancroft as Dr Cartwright, but many of the others seem poor. Miss Andrews takes pride and comfort in the fact of her American citizenship; it is therefore strange that the part went to a British actress, Margaret Leighton, who made no attempt at an American accent, especially as there seems to be an attempt to contrast the domineering Miss Andrews with the more genteel ladies from the British mission. Betty Field and Eddie Albert, both in their fifties when the film was made, were too old for the parts of Florrie and Charles Pether, who are supposed to be in their late thirties or early forties- a particularly glaring piece of miscasting given that Florrie's pregnancy plays an important part in the film. Sue Lyon seems wasted as the shy and repressed Emma. Tunga Khan is played by a European; a Mongolian or Far Eastern actor in this role might have been more believable. Perhaps a more serious weakness is the way in which its potentially interesting themes are thrown away. After the arrival of the bandits, the once-strong figure of Miss Andrews declines into a hysterical fanaticism verging on religious mania; the clash between religious and secular views therefore ends in a win for secularism by default, which weakens its dramatic impact. In the second half of the film the film becomes less of an examination of two contrasting philosophies than a frankly racist adventure story in which a plucky white woman takes on a gang of despicable Oriental villains. Although the Chinese characters are treated fairly respectfully, the Mongolian bandits are ludicrous, baboonish caricatures rather than recognisable human beings. There is a shocking, although effective, conclusion to the film, which I will not reveal here. Despite this, however, I was left with the impression that what had started out as an intelligent and unusual film had declined into a conventional one. It is ironic that a film about the clash between modernity and tradition should itself reveal some attitudes that were looking outdated even by the standards of the sixties. Perhaps the seventy-two year old John Ford's ideas about 'modernity' were still the ideas of the thirties; it would have been interesting to have seen how a younger director might have treated this theme. 5/10