Operation Mincemeat: A Comical Slice of World War II Lore

To everybody who gripes that Broadway musicals nowadays tend to be mostly jukebox shows, teen-oriented extravaganzas, movies tuned up as tourist traps or tricked-out revivals: Operation Mincemeat is a must-see show for you. Of course, some may then complain that Operation Mincemeat is simply too clever and too British in humor for American viewers to appreciate, but then some people are never pleased by anything, are they?

Currently a London hit, Operation Mincemeat premiered on Thursday at the John Golden Theatre as hilariously performed by its original five-member ensemble, three of whom wrote and composed their screwy musical drawn from an odd footnote of World War II history. Here’s the scoop: In 1943, a British espionage unit devises a mad scheme to dupe the Nazi warlords into believing a planned Allied invasion of Sicily is set to go elsewhere. They intend to do so by planting a dead body with fake classified information – supposedly a drowned British pilot – where it can be found and hopefully fool the Jerrys into wrongly shifting their forces. Of course, this will take some doing, starting with obtaining a corpse …

How’s that for a fresh notion for a musical?

[Read David Finkle’s ★★★★☆ review here.]

Although Operation Mincemeat is certainly a delightfully quirky endeavor in both its material and performance style, anybody who expects the musical to involve an extravagant Monty Python-type humor is dead wrong, as it were. Developed by a sketch comedy troupe known as SpitLip, the tuner’s book, music and lyrics are crafted by David Cumming, Felix Hagan, Natasha Hodgson and Zoë Roberts. Not silly so much as seriously jaunty in tone, their two-act musical relates this improbable but true caper as a swift series of brief episodes and energetic, multi-syllabic songs that employ five dynamic performers to summon up crowds of people – Nazis, cockneys, secretaries, submariners, embalmers, bureaucrats, showgirls, waiters — while somehow maintaining their own key identities throughout the show.

A gangling, giddy David Cumming is the genius misfit who hatches the plan. The swaggering Natasha Hodgson depicts Montagu, an ebullient wheeler-dealer who drives and later undermines the covert enterprise. Claire-Marie Hall is Jean Leslie, whose practical sensibilities keep everyone on track, mostly. Zoë Roberts portrays the exasperated Bevan, the operations chief who strives to focus the gang’s energies or clean up their messes. Jak Malone is Hester, initially a prim, middle-aged office manager who reveals unexpected depths. Plainly clad in business attire of white shirts and baggy gray suits, this quicksilver ensemble dons costume pieces, accents and fleeting attitudes as needed to be everybody else.

This nearly ceaselessly amusing affair is dotted with brisk comedy bits involving telephones, hats, flashlights and other props that are skillfully juggled under the direction of Robert Hastie, who controls the chaos sufficiently to keep its busy story matters coherent for the audience. Jenny Arnold’s choreography smooths out any rough edges very nicely. The music? On a single hearing, the pleasantly tuneful, if not especially memorable, score sounds cheerful, chipper and highly rhythmic in varying ways that usually serve to propel the action. The top of the second act erupts with a crazy gangnam-style Nazi lampoon done up in scary red and black décor, while some smart parodies of stiff-upper-lip English anthems and other musical genres pop up. Often heard under the dialogue, Steve Sidwell’s orchestrations put a bright polish on how it all sounds.

Extended silliness such as this musical escapade needs to be grounded in a few quiet minutes of genuine emotion, and ironically this moment occurs in Operation Mincemeat when a fake identity for the corpse is being forged. As an item to pack into the guy’s wallet, the starchy spinster Hester volunteers to produce a letter from his girlfriend, which develops into the tender ballad “Dear Bill.” As Hester writes ever more intimate domestic details, it becomes clear she is addressing her own sweetheart who did not return from the Great War. Jak Malone’s simple, oh-so-touching rendition likely nabs him awards later this spring. Of course, just like his excellent comrades, Malone ably portrays folks other than redoubtable Hester, but this doughty character is the one the audience will never forget.

Expect nothing fancy about the visual production. The open environs of designer Bill Stones’ setting and the quick-changing versatility of his unobtrusive costumes, combined with the dramatic punch of the ingenious, often vividly tinted lighting by the great Mark Henderson, serve Operation Mincemeat exceedingly well.