The Rossiter Case

Clement McCallin is wholly convincing, as he hits the panic button, feverishly digging through his coat pockets and lining in a desperate bid to locate a missing package. An equally thorough search of his car leads to the inevitable conclusion that the item is lost. His ensuing horror is almost palpable. Unfortunately, at a later stage, he's not quite so impressive as the plastered pub patron, lurching around, while slurring demands for another whiskey.

Ironically, these two scenes set the tone for a jarringly uneven movie. Severely paralysed Helen Shingler is determined to both recover and hold on to philandering hubby, McCallin, rapidly being drawn into the clutches of femme fatale, Sheila Burrell. The picture gives us a snatch of soap opera here and a taste of mannered deportment there, before a surprisingly dark, dramatic twist dissolves into a torrent of rambling, sentimental twaddle, accompanied by suitably syrupy strings.

Where movies like 'Rossiter' score most points is providing an insight into the prevailing attitudes and tenets of affluent post war Britain, where elements of Edwardian society remain in tact: The servants, housekeepers and cooks. The staunch, unwavering view towards 'the done thing' and 'not the done thing.' The eye-popping, jaw dropping response to the merest whiff of scandal. Throw in a variable print, a few missing frames and you pretty much have the .....er...complete package.