By Jim Seymour
For Variety

Some of my best experiences in a movie theatre (or these days in front of the box) have been prompted by my discovery that a favorite actor has branched out into directing or producing. Rarely have I been disappointed after checking out that individual’s new-found ambitions. Actors are usually passionate people, so that when they discover a story they are determined to tell —and they are in a position to bring it to the big screen—more often than not, the audience can look forward to a great story told in a new way. And often that story gets set in the world that actor knows best: the theatre.
Bob Hoskins has been one of England’s most enduring character actors for nearly three decades and it’s a great pleasure to see him producing his own projects, especially when actress Judi Dench agrees to come along for the ride and be its centerpiece. Mrs Henderson Presents satisfies in nearly every imaginable way as acerbic comedy, history lesson, character study, and good old-fashioned sentimental entertainment.
Inspired by true events and set in London just prior to and during the early years of World War II, the film recounts the decision of a wealthy widow (Dench), with no knowledge of show business and for reasons that don’t become clear until the end, to spend her final years bringing burlesque to the beleaguered residents of the West End. After hiring a cantankerous theatre manager (Hoskins) and discovering the standard fare doesn’t make money, she decides that not only do the masses deserve beautiful women and song, but, especially in difficult times, they deserve to see beautiful nude women.
The consequences of this brave cultural counter-insurgency constitute the greater part of the story, as hundreds—mostly sweet-faced soldiers about to be fodder for the Nazis in northern France—flock to the Windmill Theatre for their share of heaven-on-earth. Has nudity on the big screen ever been more innocent, delicious, or pertinent to the story? I doubt it.
English rules regarding “decency” on the stage are legendary, dating back to the 16th century. By the time of this film’s events, the office of the Lord Chamberlain (portrayed with subtle, yet amazing, relish by the American Christopher Guest) had long since established boundaries that, once crossed, meant an abrupt closing to any show. Mrs. Henderson, though, bred to understand the finer points of upper class persuasion, convinces the Lord Chamberlain that a woman’s body —like the greatest paintings in London museums— must also be regarded as high art. Hence, her shows, many of which are nearly fully presented for our delight, incorporate tableaux vivants (living pictures), thereby satisfying the censor’s demand that should we choose to contemplate a breast, it will under no circumstances be moving.
The public is smitten. Houses are packed, even as bombs rumble around them during the London Blitz. But the journey is never easy for either Henderson or her cocky manager, for whom she has obviously developed a huge crush. They argue bitterly, while it remains quite obvious to those around them that they are utterly taken with one another. And when their favorite nude model, determined never to lose her heart to another young man ever again, falls prey to the designs of the crusading Dench, catastrophe befalls them all.
As anyone who has ever appeared in any theatre production knows, the show must go on. And so it does, even as the war drains more and more of the Windmill’s audience. Herein lies the beauty of this simple story: this family of performers—both naked and clothed—discovers that something outside themselves has become more important than their individual selves. And Mrs. Henderson’s secret, involving her own loss in the previous war, clarifies what every generation mired in war must be reminded: to deny any young person— especially a young soldier—the opportunity to appreciate the natural beauty of a woman’s body is as obscene as war itself.