Reviewing this a year on, with a new cast, Operation Mincemeat at the Fortune Theatre is a smart, high-energy musical comedy-spy thriller that fully delivers on its clever promise. Directed by Robert Hastie, with book, music and lyrics by David Cumming, Felix Hagan, Natasha Hodgson and Zoë Roberts (written by the troupe SpitLip), and starring Alex Young (Ewen Montagu & others), Peter McGovern (Charles Cholmondeley & others), Chlöe Hart (Johnny Bevan & others), Roshani Abbey (Jean Leslie & others) and Danny Becker (Hester Leggatt & others).
The premise draws on a true wartime caper in 1943 when British intelligence cooked up a daring ruse to mislead Nazi Germany about the Allies’ invasion of Sicily. You meet the swaggering Montagu, sure he is Born to Lead, while the more hesitant Cholmondeley questions whether any of their plan is legal. The show then moves into the pitch-meeting scene where the idea of floating a corpse into the Atlantic with false invasion plans to fool the Germans is scripted and staged. The action shifts to a club-influenced number (Just for Tonight) juxtaposed with a submarine sequence. It balances slapstick and song (All the Ladies), farce and genuine sentiment (Dear Bill), with characters juggling dozens of roles in a cast of five. The narrative flies so fast you might blink before the scheme is executed.
In terms of performances, Montagu swaggers with brio: she accents every I told you so glance with a micro-smirk, and that tone sets the show’s tone, from cocky arrogance to bracing self-awareness. Cholmondeley brings a trembling voice and hunched-shouldered awkwardness, which grounds the high-flying antics and makes the emotional stakes matter. The standout, however, is Hester Leggatt: their delivery in the ballad Dear Bill anchors the comedy with real heart, transforming what might have been fluff into something quietly moving.
Writing-wise, the piece aims to show that in war the plan is everything, and nothing matters if the corpse isn’t convincing. There’s brilliant comic machinery in the hip-hop infused Das Übermensch and the reverent Sail on, Boys. Meanwhile the book interrogates masculine entitlement and class privilege, especially in Montagu’s born to lead mindset.
Staging, design and technical elements amplify both the playfulness and the message. The design by Ben Stones and lighting by Mark Henderson use a minimalist office-set that flips swiftly into a club, a submarine and a beach scene without scene-changes stopping the momentum. The costume changes are lightning-fast and often humorous, ties, hats, and jackets swapped in a blink to indicate new roles. Choreography by Jenny Arnold crackles: the kick-line in the telephone-switchboard scene draws audible laughs at every show. Only occasionally the whole thing feels too busy: the energy sometimes overwhelms lyric clarity and you might miss a few lines mid-number.
In its themes you’ll find resonance with today’s questions of identity, power and truth. The show asks what happens when men in control treat others (and even dead bodies) as props; when class and privilege sneak into the strategy room; and when the best plan still depends on the worst luck. The show doesn’t preach, but it reminds you that seriousness and silliness sit side by side in the same mission.