Last night I watched Mrs. Henderson Presents on NetFlix – without the benefit of a glass of wine – and thoroughly enjoyed it anyway. I love Judi Dench. Bob Hoskins was great but I couldn’t get Roger Rabbit out of my head whenever there was a close up. And the story was an interesting one, supposedly based on fact. But then, what story isn’t supposedly based on fact. It’s simply a matter of how loose or solid the base.
A 1930’s London widow with lots of time and money on her hands decides to restore an old theatre and feature continuous nude musical revues. Tastefully done, of course. There’s lots of witty banter and some good laughs, plus bits of great musical routines that made me wish I could see the whole thing.
Now that I’ve watched one movie I quite liked from beginning to end I’m all optimistic about seeing more and Netflix is good to make recommendations. Although how they come up with the connections is a little baffling sometimes. It could be simply another movie with one of the same actors and a completely different genre.
I’ve worked the weekend and survived it, and my house is delightfully clean! (C is for Clean with a Capitol C). Hard to be unhappy about either of those things. Having someone else clean my house is one of the smartest things I’ve ever decided to do. If you haven’t ever come home to a spotless fresh smelling squeaky clean house, you really should splurge and try it, at least once. Best feeling ever. And then you need to sit down amidst all that clean and treat yourself to some cinematography. I would call that bliss.
And having three more working days until taking several weeks off is a pretty heady feeling too. Perhaps I was some kind of royalty in a past life. Being pampered seems to come so naturally to me. Makes you wonder.