It's a matter of deep regret that Woman In A Dressing Gown remains unreleased on DVD and is rarely, if ever, screened on television. As a previous commenter noted, it's the first of the kitchen sink drama's which became so fashionable in the 1960's, and it's the best.

The story is unremarkable; clerk Anthony Quayle is having an affair with his firm's secretary, Sylvia Sims. His wife, Yvonne Mitchell, devoted, but suffering from a clinical depression which leads her to be alternatively hysterical and morose, knows nothing, believing her husband to be equally devoted, so when Quayle breaks the news that he plans to divorce her, she goes to pieces. This unpromising situation is electrified by several elements; Yvonne Mitchell's searing performance, a spare script, and some very claustrophobic settings.

Mitchell owns this film; her character is so helpless, so self-effacing, that Quayleand Sims offer her the best kind of support - they let her do her own thing. Long sequences find Mitchell alone - at the cooker, at the kitchen table, at the window - and each of these scenes is a masterpiece of momentum worthy of any noir. But isn't kitchen sink drama the most casual noir and therefore the most terrifying? Really one would have to see Mitchell in action - her habitual burning of family breakfasts, her abortive trip uptown to dolly up and win back her man, most of all her only companion - a faded dressing gown which acts as comfort blanket to the woman. She is stunning and deservedly won many plaudits for her performance.

Credit must also go to Anthony Quayle who underplays his natural strengths as an actor. His perplexity at finding himself an object of desire is played out beautifully and logically to the conclusion. Sylvia Sims also impresses as the other woman, a slip of a thing whose scenes are fragile but safe because we know she is in no danger from herself.

The script is taken from a television play by Ted Willis which was broadcast in the early days of ITV. I have no idea whether it still exists, probably not, given British television's habit of treating archives as ephemera - there is nothing ephemeral about Woman In A Dressing Gown. It is blindingly and viscerally memorable. Neither do I have any idea who currently owns the rights to this film but I must say they ought to be ashamed of themselves - it needs to be restored and issued on DVD before it's completely forgotten.

All in all, a lovely and unsung classic for connoisseurs of everything vital.

I remember watching this film as a young girl. It was a bit over my head as far as the complexity of emotions but the situation was quite clear. The story of a middle aged couple: the husband, still attractive and a bit worldly, has become attracted to a young woman...the wife, a bit shop-worn and, having been a housewife and entirely devoted only to her family for nearly two decades, appears dull in the eyes of her husband. However, so moving was the performance of Ms. Mitchell as the wife, so clear the pain and desperation she displayed in attempting to keep her husband when it becomes clear she is losing him, that I remembered nearly every bit of the movie and retained it until years later when I could feel full empathy for her. I see this movie as a sad, sweet study of a universal type of woman: the house-bound, devoted and totally self-sacrificing wife who has, perhaps, given too much of herself to her family and kept too little for herself.

The first feature film written by Ted Willis was Good-Time Girl in 1947 and within the decade he was chronicling the other side of the coin and the conclusion would seem to be that Sinner or Saint it's not much fun being a girl. By 1957 the 'kitchen sink' school of drama was firmly established on both stage and screen courtesy of plays like Look Back In Anger, which John Osborne unleashed in 1956 and films not a million miles away from Good-Time Girl and The Blue Lamp, also the work of Willis. Anthony Quayle and Sylvia Syms had been involved in Ice Cold In Alex yet there's an odd lack of chemistry between their semi-adulterous (she isn't married, he is) lovers as indeed there is between Quayle, a Shakespearean actor never fully at ease in modern dress, and Yvonne Mitchell, who walks away the the film, slipping easily around a wooden Andrew Ray as the son of herself and Quayle. It was probably seen as a taut, gripping drama in its day but that day wasn't yesterday or even the day before and time could have been kinder, nevertheless it will reward a look.