Robert Tanitch reviews Mrs Henderson Presents at Noel Coward Theatre, London WC2.
Mrs Laura Henderson, a wealthy widow, bought the grubby and abandoned Windmill Theatre in Great Windmill Street in Soho, off Shaftesbury Avenue, in 1931.
The theatre became famous for its variety and revue acts which played non-stop from 1.30 to 11.20 pm.
Its heyday was the war years. Its patriotic motto was: We Never Closed. (We Never Clothed, said the wags.)
Mrs Henderson was the first producer to be allowed to introduce nudity on the London stage. She promised the Lord Chamberlain, who was then stage censor, that her girls would never move. They would appear only in tableaux vivants.
Mrs Henderson would have gone broke, had it not been for the statuesque nudes.
The Windmill Theatre became a popular institution for servicemen on leave, and she argued that by staying open throughout the Blitz, it had acted as a morale booster.
You may have seen the sweet little movie in 2005 with Judi Dench and Bob Hoskins. It was not a commercial success.
Now here is a British musical based on that film and given its subject matter – a back-stage story, the show must go on, etc – it ought to work better than it does.
The lyrics are by Don Black. The music is by George Fenton and Simon Chamberlain. The director is Terry Johnson.
It just feels terribly old-fashioned and not very good
Tracie Bennett is Mrs Henderson. Ian Bartholomew is Vivian Van Damm, her manager. Emma Williams is the tea-girl who graduates to star role of nude with ostrich feathers.
A high spot on the press night came during the curtain call when a bevy of former Windmill girls, now in their eighties, took a bow.
Mrs Henderson Presents never feels like a West End show, which in a way is right. The original 326-seater Windmill was never a West End theatre and nor were its shows.
Famous comedians (before they became famous) trod the boards here and they included Tony Hancock, Harry Secombe, Jimmy Edwards, Peter Sellers, Tommy Cooper and Bruce Forsyth.
But it was always the nudes people came to see. The Windmill Theatre died when strip joints opened in Soho and the mackintosh brigade could go elsewhere.
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