Jess and I went to see Mrs. Henderson Presents last night. It was the first time in a long time I got to laugh out loud along with a hundred other people at the movies, and has (at least temporarily) restored my faith in going out to the movies.

Led by deliciously broad-but-believable performances from Dame Judi Dench and Bob Hoskins, the film tells the tale of London's Windmill Theater, and the shows it put on during World War II for the beleaguered citizens (and eventually, the resident troops) of the city. The shows were scandalous for their time, featuring female nudity, which was only allowed if the naked figures remained motionless.

Even before the curtains go up (and the clothes come off) at the Windmill, the film is laugh-out-loud funny thanks to the jubilant eccentricities of the newly widowed Mrs. Henderson (Dench). Though haunted by her past, she takes on the world with a smile and a devilish gleam in her eye. This reaches its apex when, in the face of dwindling profits, she proposes the Windmill present shows featuring nude women, and must then convince all the men around her that going ahead with her plan will not bring about the downfall of civilized society.

As the shadow of war descends on London at the film's midpoint, the story suffers from a slight sense of frivolity. I found myself wanting something to invest in on a deeper level than simply revelling in the farcical inpropriety of it all. Eventually this does come, but by the time it does it is almost too late. In the end, it's Mrs. Henderson herself that provides some much-needed heart.

Plenty of girly fun for the girls and lots of boobies for the boys. Mrs. Henderson Presents has something for everyone.