Dame Maggie Smith brilliantly reprises her role as “Mary Shepherd” for the third time in this film adaption of British author-playwright-actor Alan Bennett's book and radio play, “The Lady in the Van.”

At the outset of the film, with its dark screen and telling audio followed by black and white film of a classical concert by youthful musicians, Miss Shepherd's back story unfolds.

She is driving her van through the countryside with the police in pursuit. She has left the scene of an accident, in which a motorcyclist is killed. She evades the copper by pulling into a side road then returns to the scene and the young man.

Miss Shepherd sentences herself to a life of exile, of homelessness, as punishment for a crime she cannot forget or forgive herself for until the day she dies. Haunted every waking moment by her actions, or inaction, she changes her name and moves from town to town in her mobile home until she is made to leave.

When Shepherd arrives at Camden High Street in Camden Town, London, Alan Bennett has been living at number 22 for five years. Like the other residents of the street, Bennett cannot ignore Shepherd's presence in the neighborhood. Unlike the other residents, he is motivated to help her. But why? A good question and one he never really knows the answer to.

She is driven from her first parking spot on the street by music. The wife and mother of the residence gives private music lessons to children. Miss Shepherd cannot bear to hear music. And so she moves on. And the neighborhood holds its collective breath waiting to see where she ends up next.

At one point Bennett asks Shepherd how she came to park on his street. She says the Virgin Mary makes the decision for her. Bennett learns Shepherd is a devout Catholic who prays animatedly in her van at night when she thinks she isn't being observed. What, he wonders, is she praying for?

One day, in the early morning hours, Miss Shepherd is awakened by what seems like an earthquake. Actually the “shake down” is caused by two young men seen by Bennett through his window and chased away by him. Bennett tells her that this type of incident is bound to happen if one chooses to live as she does. Shepherd informs Bennett she did not choose to be homeless – “she was chosen.”

Despite being given absolution several times, she still visits the Catholic church and begs for forgiveness. The priest tells her he has already given her absolution for that particular sin, and assures her that absolution is forever, there isn't an expiration date.

Speaking of absolution, one of the many funny bits of dialogue happens after Shepherd leaves the confessional – but her B.O., blended with Yardley's lavender scented talcum powder, lingers on. As the next Catholic approaches the confessional, he recoils from the foul odor. The priest says from his place behind the screen, “There's a can of air freshener behind the Virgin Mary.”

We learn that the other virgin Mary in the story, Mary Shepherd that is, was a gifted pianist. As a teenager she studied with the renowned Alfred Cortot – at his Paris school, no less. She also tried to become a nun. While at the convent, she discovered a piano, sat down and began to play. This all stopped as soon as Mother Superior showed up. And, no, Shepherd could not even play hymns. Music, “Mother” informed, was the way the devil moved in and got his hold on people.

Shepherd ends up in Bennett's driveway when a removal notice is placed on the windshield of her van by a policeman. Bennett decides to offer her his driveway for a few months until she can get sorted. The social worker assigned to Shepherd informs Bennett that if Miss Shepherd has used his bathroom (she had), she could claim squatter's rights. After one of her visits to Bennett's bathroom we watch as he washes, deodorizes, washes, disinfects … I think he even brings in some kind of industrial strength machinery ... quite a humorous scene.

Alex Jennings portrays Bennett as two halves of himself –there's the one who does the living and the one who does the writing. The “Bennetts” have conversations – out loud - with each other – like old married folks. The writer Bennett always questioning the living Bennett's motives in seemingly going out of his way to help Miss Shepherd, who also seems a tad mentally ill.

Is Shepherd material for a new play? A new book? Does he do it to make up for the lack of care and attention he gives to his lonely, widowed mother? Why else would he be cleaning up her feces – that has somehow fallen out of the plastic bags she uses - in his driveway?

Shepherd has many requests - including hooking up her telly to Bennett's wireless - but nary a thank you is uttered for any of his acts of kindness, or anyone else in the neighborhood.

A man and his children deliver presents to her on Christmas morning. She accepts them hastily and replies (as only Maggie Smith can), “Well, close the curtain, I'm a busy woman!” Hey, at least they got that much, unlike another neighbor who gives her homemade crème brulee, which Shepherd smells, makes a face of distaste, and tosses somewhere in the van.

As  (the writer) Bennett says, “One seldom was able to do her a good turn without some thoughts of strangulation.”

Smith's performance, particularly in the scene at the old folks' home where she is given a bath, has her hair combed out; where she experiences the tender touch of another human being …  will make you tear up from time to time.

The dignity Smith's Miss Shepherd maintains, despite her inability to forgive herself, despite her homeless, exiled life, serves as a reminder to audiences that though they may be homeless, they are still human beings who have led lives that are in no way reflected in their current circumstance. All of our lives can change in an instant.

The saying, “Charity begins at home,” takes on a whole new meaning for Alan Bennett. So, maybe he did use Miss Shepherd as material for a new book, that became a stage and radio play. And a movie. But, Bennett's sharing of his and Miss Shepherd's story, okay,  “mostly true” story, is one that should have been told — except for the whole Miss Shepherd ascension bit at the end — I know, I know, everyone’s a critic ... 

“The Lady in the Van” plays at The Harbor Theater at 7 p.m. Friday, March 4, Saturday, March 5, Wednesday, March 9 and Thursday, March 10; Sunday, March 6 at 2 p.m.