Woman Times Seven may not be the greatest film IL' Shirl has ever made ("Being There" comes to mind), and it may not be her high water mark for sheer feminine beauty (the scene where she's on the elevating psychiatrist's couch in "What A Way To Go" certainly takes that prize), but just to look at her as the grieving widow, to the surprise revelation of that cute little bow at the back of her apron in such a strategic place, to how she CLEARLY was the most spectacular femme at the opera...ah, what a piece of work is woman!
In this day and age, where women think that they don't need makeup, or stockings, or stiletto pumps, where hair is considered attractive if it looks like one just got out of bed and used fingers alone, and before they wake up and realize that tattoos and piercings are sooo trampy, that quick-cut set of takes where she is at once the house mouse in her little peignoir and just as instantly the SAME WOMAN is the man-eating vixen Simone is CLEAR CUT PROOF that with the right grooming and wardrobe ANY woman can be a goddess. I've been saying THAT for years, but no one but the cinematic cognoscenti would even know what I'm talking about.
Beyond that, the flick has EXACTLY the right taste of Sixties-flick, and that's enough said. Remember: Heaven will be all-Sixties forever.
JTC
