"Wait, the audience isn't supposed to be naked, is it?"

Mrs. Henderson Presents is the latest in the Unlikely Brits Getting Naked genre. In The Full Monty it was a batch of decidedly un-Chippendal-ish steelworkers. In Calendar Girls it was middle-aged women.  This time around it’s nubile twenty-somethings, but as it takes place in the 1930s it’s still quite a big deal.

Judi Dench (that’s Dame Judi to you and me) stars as an imperious, wealthy widow in pre-war London. Bored with the usual hobbies allowed to women in her situation (“When your husband dies it becomes quite acceptable to help the poor,” her friend tells her) Laura Henderson decides to buy the rundown Windmill Theatre and hires Vivian Van Damm (Bob Hoskins) as creative director. He’s nearly as strong-willed as Mrs. Henderson herself, and she quickly develops a crush on him. (Lovers are also on the approved hobby list for wealthy widows.) Their vaudeville show is an instant hit.

But I promised nudity, didn’t I? When business starts to flag, it occurs to Mrs. H that folks might want to see naked ladies. One problem: stage shows need a license from the Lord Chancellor (Christopher Guest) who is sure to turn down such a prurient proposition, right? Nonsense! He’s an old friend of Mrs. Henderson, who manages to convince him of her plan’s artistic merit by promising that the girls won’t move a muscle. Brilliant!

"I'm going out a nobody, but I'm coming back a star!"

Based on a true story, Mrs. Henderson Presents works best in its first half, when director Stephen Frears and writer Martin Sherman keep things light and frothy, their scenes filled with humor, music and ironic “Hey, kids, let’s put on a show” cliché. Dench’s performance is, unsurprisingly, quite delicious, as Mrs. Henderson herself might say. The free-spirited Laura may, at times, seem flighty or arrogant, but Dench manages to keep her grounded and sympathetic. She and Hoskins spar beautifully, her unflappable enthusiasm perfectly complementing his authoritative bluster.

Even after the Blitz starts, the movie retains some of its fun-loving spirit, as the Windmill girls throw themselves into entertaining the brave boys heading off to war. If only the filmmakers hadn’t tried to impose a Message. It seems Mrs. Henderson isn’t just presenting an innovative entertainment; her naked women are actually a vital part of the war effort. Really. Breasts for Victory!

Whatever. Roll your eyes at that bit if you must. The movie is only slightly spoiled by this lapse into self-importance. The rest of the time Mrs. Henderson Presents is a good-spirited romp (yes, I said romp) and just the crowd-pleaser you may be looking for over the holidays. Enjoy!

Gorilla Pants rating: 3 out of 4 bananas