Woman in a Dressing Gown

Great black and white film - nostalgic and utterly moving - stunning performances from the main characters, especially the housewife - her downward spiral is a masterclass - it's a must see film for all the right reasons . . .

Behind this unassuming title is a simple premise. It is the story of a man who, having become weary of his domestic life after twenty years of marriage, is tempted to walk out and begin a new relationship with his beautiful young secretary whom he has fallen in love with.

Such a scenario is a familiar one now, having been played out in many a television soap opera, but back in the 1950s when this film was made, extra-marital affairs and divorce carried much more of a stigma than is the case nowadays, and so one might think that this production carries little impact. That is far from the case, however, as this film relies not on sensational plot twists but instead concentrates on the effects that the situation has on the main protagonists. And in doing that it succeeds superbly in conveying the raw emotions of each character.

Anthony Quayle is the man torn between his status as a family man and the promise of an exciting and passionate new life with a beautiful woman who loves him. Quayle could play tough villains well but here he is exemplary playing the weak man, an individual swept along by circumstances rather than by having the drive to make him master of his own destiny. The two different lives he must choose between are personified by the different names each woman calls him: to his long-standing wife he is 'Jimbo', to his secretary he is 'Preston' (his surname). Yet Jim is never presented as a sly, scheming womaniser, only as a good man without the inner strength to be something better.

Sylvia Syms (who would become one of Quayle's co-stars in Ice Cold In Alex the following year) is 'the other woman', the secretary Georgie. The character's background is largely unexplored but we learn enough of her to know that her love for Jim is sincere and that she is not vindictive or manipulative.

But stealing the show is Yvonne Mitchell in a superlative performance as eponymous Amy, Jim's wife. Even after twenty years of marriage Amy is loving and devoted, but she is hapless, disorganised and a little overbearing. Her blind devotion means that she hasn't noticed her husband growing bored with their life, except perhaps on a subconscious level for when the bombshell is dropped, she immediately guesses the reason behind it. The reactions of Amy are varied, not always expected, but wholly convincing and touching. Much of the credit for that must also go to Ted Willis who wrote the screenplay, crafting rich dialogue that skillfully avoids all the hackneyed old cliches that this subject matter often serves up.

J Lee Thompson's direction is considered. He generally keeps the piece tight and close up to maximise the conveyance of feeling, the shots are well composed and occasionally imaginative, and scenes are lit most effectively.

So, does Jim leave Amy or end up staying with her? I won't spoil the outcome here, although the real joy is the getting there and in following a conflict where all three participants are good hearted and evoke sympathy. To pull that off so well is no mean feat.

Woman in a Dressing Gown is directed by J. Lee Thompson and written by Ted Willis. It stars Yvonne Mitchell, Anthony Quayle and Sylvia Syms, music is by Louis Levy and cinematography by Gilbert Taylor.

It's something of an inauspicious title, a title hardly conducive to making this piece of film leap out at you, to shout that it's essential British cinema. How wonderful to find that not only is it a title completely befitting the material being played out, but that it is actually essential British cinema.

It's little known and very under seen, in fact myself was only introduced to it by a Canadian friend! The story centers on a London family of three, husband is away earning the corn at the office, teenage son is just starting out in life after school, and mother? She's on housewife auto-pilot, but disorganised with it. Her auto- pilot world is shaken to the core when it is revealed that husband is having an affair with his personal secretary, a smart and beautiful younger sort who is demanding that husband divorces wifey or it's all off...

It sounds very kitchen sink, but actually it's not, it's a very smartly written picture giving credence to mental illness, to the shattering blows of infidelity, of a crumbling family dynamic, a family that in truth is homespun. Ordinary? Yes, but safe as the red brick built poky flat they dwell in. We are not asked to take sides here, to chastise or judge, Thompson and his superb cast merely ask us to delve into their world, to understand it, the psychological humdrum of 50s Britain, the starkness of marriage does mean growing old together, but that nobody ever said it was going to be easy.

Looking at it now it can be viewed as a very important film in the trajectory of British cinema, Mitchell's character is the fulcrum, making the film a must see as regards the evolution of how women have been represented in Brit cinema through the years. Thompson, better known for tough macho fuelled movies on his CV, does a wonderful job in letting us feel the anguish and emotional turbulence. Hazy camera shots couple up with stark framing of the objects in the cramped flat, all marrying up to the fractured nature of Amy & Jim's marriage. There's even humour to be found, very much so, with Louis Levy's musical cue accompaniments deftly shifting from seething passions to Ealing like comedy as the home life of Amy is scattergun in execution.

Kitchen sink, social realist, proto realist and etc? No! This has no pigeon hole to be placed in, it's just terrific film making, from the writing, the performances, the direction and its worth to anyone interested in classic British cinema, this demands to be sought out. And for the record, the last 20 minutes of film will move and invigorate the coldest of hearts. 9/10

This is Yvonne Mitchell's film, of course, and definitely her best performance. Anthony Quayle is as always one of the most reliable actors there ever was, and here for a change he is to play an extremely ordinary part: this could happen to anyone, and it usually happens sooner or later to everyone. The situation couldn't be more common. Sylvia Syms is beautiful as usual and doesn't have to act much, it's enough for her just to be seen, and she actually plays no great part - she is just the other woman. The acting is all Yvonne Mitchell's.

Of course you have to worry about her, as her heart is torn apart, as her world is turned to shambles, as she desperately tries to find a way out and fails in every single effort, and how she stills goes on just to carry on. She is the most helpless of all, and yet she is the one who carries through and gets through the crisis in a wreck of only shambles, as if you needed to get your whole world totally ruined just to find it all perfectly normal, as if nothing had happened, as if it just had to pass by like an ordinary shower of rain...

The direction is superb throughout with all its diverting manoeuvres focussing on petty dertails for a relief, like a missing button, the baby next door (apparently Mitchell's own), the soap problem with the engagement ring, and above all the shabby old drsssing gown - the very symbol of the film, nothing much, just an ordinary old worn out dressing gown, which you never really get out of...

You rapidly lose patience with Anthony Quayle for being such a weak fish that he completely fails to realise there's far more to a wife than just keeping the place tidy.

Yvonne Mitchell is an absolute delight in the tousle-haired title role. With her raucous laugh she tears about the set so fast the only way the director could possibly keep up with her is by constantly switching the camera's position into yet another of the notorious 'J. Lee Thompson' shots he's so often derided for.

A radiant young Sylvia Syms likewise is her usual charming self, and at least goes some way for the audience to sympathise with Quayle's plight.