Operation Mincemeat continues at the Southwark Playhouse Large, London until 19 February 2022.
Star rating: five stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
If you didn’t catch SpitLip’s oblique – and hilarious – retelling of this Second World War mission at its last outing in Southwark, then you absolutely must get yourself down to SE1 in double-time, before it sells out completely. And that’s a direct order, soldier!
The extraordinary true story is soon to become much better known in April with the launch of a (straight) movie version starring Colin Firth (and, rather amusingly, Simon Russell Beale as Churchill). For now, though, with the movie’s release date pushed back to April, you’ve got a chance to get well acquainted with the plot – and have a much more jolly time, I suspect – by popping over to the Southwark Playhouse.
As outlandish as it sounds, the real 1943 Operation Mincemeat involved dumping on a Spanish beach the body of a ‘royal marine’ – in reality, a homeless man found on the streets of London. Handcuffed to his wrist was a briefcase containing supposedly ‘top secret’ details of an Allied invasion of Greece, designed to throw the Nazis off the scent of the real invasion, planned for Sicily.
The plan might well sound outlandish – coming as it did from the Naval Intelligence department that also boasted the cunning brain of James Bond creator Ian Fleming (a fact deliciously milked at various points throughout the show) – and it’s difficult to imagine how it might work as a musical. But somehow, against odds even more steep than those faced by the boffins in Naval Intelligence, the endlessly inventive SpitLip has pulled it off. And spectacularly so.
Think Hamilton meets The 39 Steps meets The Producers and you’re half way there. Throw in a bit of Beyonce and Horrible Histories with the training wheels off and you’ve got the idea. Oh, and don’t forget the goose-stepping Nazis bearing sequinned Swastikas. It’s all terribly high camp yet manages to fit in beautifully touching moments and an almost tear-jerking ending.
A cast of just five uber-talented performers tackle an endless array of stiff-lipped intelligence officers, feisty secretaries, Sangria-soaked spies and the aforementioned glittering Nazis. All gender representations are out the window, too, as each actor joyously tackles male and female roles.
David Cumming, Claire-Marie Hall, Natasha Hodgson, Jak Malone and Zoe Roberts all exude charm and likeability, and it’s impossible to single out any of them. They each bring a vast breadth of talent to the show and have such effervescent chemistry together. It’s clear they’re all having the time of their life, and it’s infectious. I’m still smiling now an hour or so after watching them.
Director Donnacadh O’Briain and choreographer Jenny Arnold don’t let this tireless cast take their feet off the pedal, and the two-hours-plus show is packed to the gills. Helen Coyston’s simple set of sliding doors and filing cabinets – and telephones on impossibly long cords – means there’s no time wasted changing between scenes, so the whole thing zips by breathlessly.
As the backbone of SpitLip, Hodgson, Roberts and Cumming – and composer Felix Hagan – are credited with writing the show and its music. The songs are without exception delightful (if you don’t mind the odd half-rhyme). Not only do they inject fun and energy into the storytelling, they actually advance the plot. When Charles Cholmondeley (Cumming) and Ewen Montagu (Hodgson) explain their ‘full-arsed’ deception to Colonel Johnny Bevan (Roberts), for example, it’s fully sung, like a one-act play in itself. No stand-and-deliver numbers here.
Musically, it ricochets between traditional musical theatre, cabaret, rap and pop, but all to great effect. There’s such intelligence and wit and charm to the writing that you’re sent on a musical – and emotional – roller-coaster. Yes, it’s got its ‘Springtime for Hitler’ moments – all very funny – but it’s also heart-rendering at points. It might sound a little OTT but there’s genuine warmth and affection for the real-life characters being portrayed, and it’s respectfully done, as the ending attests to.
Gender issues are also touched on. The role of women in the war is conceptualised in a ‘Single Ladies’-style power ballad by feisty Beyonce-types almost relishing the chance to be taking on men’s work. And the most powerful moment in the show for me was Malone as Hester Leggett (the most senior woman in the department) singing the contents of a love letter to be slipped into the corpse’s wallet, drawing deep on her own painful experiences of losing a lover in the First World War.
This is my idea of new musical theatre heaven: a talented cast has worked together to devise an audacious, inventive and keenly written show that’s bursting with intelligent lyrics and catchy tunes. The last time I felt this lovely warm feeling as strongly was with Darren Clark and Jethro Compton’s Curious Case of Benjamin Button, in the Southwark’s Little space in 2019. I couldn’t recommend this show highly enough at the time and wanted to invite friends along, lest they miss the opportunity to see such a wonder. The same applies to Operation Mincemeat but I’d better be quick, as it looks like it’s selling out – and so it deserves to.
Craig Glenday
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