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Well thats what the BBFC censor of the day would have said.I decided to make this post to correct some errors made in other posts.Up till 1967 when theatre censorship was abolished all stage performances came under the auspices of the Lord Chamberlain.Nudity on the stage was allowed provided that the nude did not move.So the maxim "if it moves its rude".So there were no strippers or nude dancing of any kind at The Windmill.There were "tableaux vivant" as they were called.Artfully posed nudes.So the show we see on screen is nothing like the one that would actually be performed on the stage.This film was made when the Windmill was still at its peak.In the fifties strip clubs would open up in adjacent Soho so men could go to see striptease without having to see variety acts,music hall at that time also dying.By the early sixties The Windmill had to close.The Theatre is still there but i believe that it is now a nightclub.This film is a historic reminder of what used to happen there.As they used to say "We Never Clothed".

The Windmill Theater in London claimed they never closed. They certainly didn't on this night as all the performers and stagehands are kept behind after a member of the audience is shot through the heart. The CID Inspector insists they re-enact part of the show again. And that is the part when the police suspect the murder victim was shot from the stage.

You will need to be prepared for some song and dance numbers watching this. I was concentrating on the acts to see if I could detect the point at which a shot could have been fired at the audience. There are wise-cracking chorus girls but no famed Windmill nudity to be had. For a large part this can be seen as more of a slice of theater history than a mystery. But chances are you won't detect the murderer if you make the same mistake as I made.

There is an indication of what the Windmill Revues were like in the 1940s. American film stars of this period are impersonated on stage in one of the numbers which I thought was impressive. Among the performers is Jimmy Edwards who thrived on a terrible stage act for years which you can now see for yourself. Jon Pertwee is another known face as the police sergeant. And then there's Garry Marsh as the CID chief who British mystery fans will recognize from his many supporting roles in the 1930s and 1940s.

Murder most foul as Miss Marple would say has been done at the famous Windmill Theater in London. The famed theater for which a very ambitious Rita Hayworth wartime film Tonight And Every Night used as a model is the scene of a homicide. The victim sat in the very front row and was shot as forensics would have it right from the stage during the last performance.

The victim was a makeup salesman who was always trying to make a sale among the chorus girls of himself and his products. The only way that Inspector Garry Marsh and Sergeant Jon Pertwee can solve this thing if the show is run again. So the weary cast goes through its paces again after the last show.

Murder At The Windmill is an interesting if strange film. The rather thin murder plot is just an excuse to put on the Windmill revue for our benefit. The numbers are nice but not spectacular and the murderer is extremely obvious from the start.

The film's best asset are the incredibly patient Garry Marsh and his assistant Pertwee who seems to think that he will dazzle his superior with all kinds of arcane knowledge. Marsh just takes it all in stride.

Murder At The Windmill is a curious little film, more musical than murder.

When a man is killed at the Windmill Theatre during a performance, the police have to discover which of the actors and stagehands is a murderer.

Murder at the Windmill is bad. Apparently someone thought the film would be better with musical numbers, so there's a couple randomly shoehorned in at various intervals. The numbers are horribly staged, and the songs are terrible. You also get to suffer through a terrible comedy routine by Jimmy Edwards and some guy doing a Jimmy Stewart impression.

Jon Pertwee is the only good actor in the bunch, giving a fun comedic performance as one of the policemen. The rest of the cast is pretty unmemorable, with the exception of Diana Decker, who is horrendously annoying. Peter Butterworth has a bit part as a policeman.

Unless you're a diehard Jon Pertwee fan, I'd avoid this one.

A man is killed at that most dangerous place in the world: a theater. Movie stalwart Detective Inspector Garry Marsh shows up with comic-relief sergeant Jon Pertwee to investigate. This involves recreating the show, during which the front-row victim was offed.

The Windmill, for those of you who haven't seen MRS HENDERSON PRESENTS, was the London music hall that included tableaux vivantes to get around British law that forbade nudity on the stage -- unless the performer didn't move. Alas, the film producers never offer much more than the sort of semi-revealing costumes that I saw at Radio City Music Hall as a child. Neither was I terribly impressed by the mystery aspect. I spotted the killer early on, but found no clue leading to the detection until the final revelation.

Still, there are some good, if not particularly memorable revue numbers, and the performers are pretty young women. There is also one particularly funny bit in which a comic, used to a large, appreciative audience, is forced to go through his routine for two tired, stony-faced detectives. Although it's strictly a B movie, it's a very pleasant, bright time-waster.

I believe this is the single worst movie I have ever seen. I kept hoping something would improve. Cant believe I sat through the whole thing. The acting was astonishingly horrible. The script ridiculous. The conclusion was improbable and not worth having suffered through all the previous minutes.

The actual Windmill theatre is London had a racy reputation. As this movie was made in 1949, the censorship laws meant it could only touch upon this with one fan dance.

The movie begins with an audience member found dead at the end of the show.

The police are called in which includes the unassuming Detective Sergeant (Jon Pertwee) anda blustering Detective Inspector. It seems the dead man was shot.

So the entire's night performances is recreated to smoke the murderer out. This includes dancers, singers and a very long, dragged out an unfunny comic routine by Jimmy Edwards. He should had been caned by someone!

Basically this contrived movie is a way to recreate a sanitised revue of the Windmill. I guess people were easily pleased in the old days.

The murder mystery itself is an afterthought. Even with the vintage theatrical performances this was a poor movie.

In order to find out who fired the fatal shot during a performance the windmill theatre cast each have to go through their entire routine - in front of a police inspector.

This film is actually just an excuse for us to sit back and watch an entire Windmill theatre performance. The cast in the film are the actual girls who worked there and the routines are what they really did - week in week out.

The Windmill (now sadly long closed,) was in Soho, London - just off Piccadilly circus and a whole generation of actors and comedians got their first break there. The formulae was simple, strippers and erotic dancers would perform on the stage and a comedian would come on in between each act. So, to get the attention of a crowd of sleazy men who had snuck in for a glimpse of flesh you had to be good. And a glimpse was all they ever got - the British censorship laws prohibited anything else. There used to be a plaque of names outside the door with a list of who had played there with names like David Niven, Harry Seacom and a host of others (Norman Wisdom failed the audition). The plaque also boasted that during WW2 `We never closed'.

A lot of countries would think that a slice of history like this would be worth preserving but not us British. As with the Liverpool Cavern club (now replaced with a silly replica,) The Bronte museum (full of phoney replaced artefacts,) and other places where the short term profit from a slice of land or property was more important than any heritage.

So, if you can get a copy this film it is a (slightly sanitised) snapshot of a world long gone. When Piccadilly circus had a real round about with the Eros statue in its centre and every building in the circus had a huge fantastic neon advert. A very enjoyable old film with the subject matter not quite as sleazy as it really was.

A Detective and his Sergeant investigate a murder at The Windmill Theatre, how in Earth was a man killed in the front row during a performance, surely one of the cast must have committed the act? The cast perform the show for The Police to determine when, where and whodunnit.

It's a charming film, a comedy, musical whodunnit. It's sentimental, funny and really sweet. Expect laughs, entertainment and a raft of famous faces. The identity of the killer almost becomes insignificant as you're lost in a raft of musical numbers and dances.

The best scene is surely the alluring tableaux, in 1949 that would have been incredibly risqué, it's somehow sexy, but classy and captivating, she had some real talent.

Some very fine performances, as a massive Jon Pertwee fan, I loved seeing him in an early role, it's crazy how much he and his son look alike.

Cameos for Peter Butterworth, who appears in some very funny scenes.

Charming.

6/10.

This is like no other murder case. More interesting than who done it in this case is how it was done. It could only have been done from stage, so the helpless inspectors have no choice but to endure the whole show over again from the beginning to investigate at which point the shot could have been fired and how. They reach the end of the show until before the finale in a hilarious Mexican number all the girls on stage fire their own pistol.

This is a criminal comedy at its very best. It couldn't be more hilarious. At the same time, it's almost documentary, since this theatre actually never closed during the war but kept on giving shows day and night and was extremely popular in its charming location off the Piccadilly.

The poor inspectors have to suffer through one silly number after another, plagued by a bassoon pedant, silly dances with dogs, satirical ballets making fun of Hollywood, and in between lots of gags in the canteen, police officers getting lost in the theatre falling over chairs, one trying to escape and so on, while the girls keep playing cards when they are not on stage.

It's a wonderful rendering of how life at the Windmill actually went on almost non stop throughout the war with all its idyllic professional but endearing silliness. Applause, and applause again with cries for joy. It's simply adorable.