Operation Mincemeat is the sort of course of events that, if it hadn’t actually happened, someone would have had to make it up. So much so that one character observes at one point during the second act of this show, ‘You couldn’t write it’.
Well, honestly, when a devilish plan to misdirect the enemy during WWII is hatched by a committee of officials including none other than Ian Fleming (yes – that Ian Fleming!) what can you expect? For those unfamiliar, a plot is devised to create a diversion, making Hitler’s army think that the Allied Forces are planning to invade Greece and Sardinia, rather than Sicily. It involves dressing the corpse of a recently deceased vagrant (Glyndwr Michael) in the guise of a fictitious naval officer William Martin, creating an entire back-story for him, and then setting him adrift from a submarine off the coast of Spain, where he would be discovered carrying papers revealing the supposed invasion plan.
It wasn’t particularly funny for the unfortunate Mr Michael, nor for the crew on board the submarine who opened the sealed container marked ‘meteorological equipment’ in order to dispatch him to his watery fate but, as a story, the jokes pretty much write themselves.
The musical, written by David Cumming, Felix Hagan, Natasha Hodgson and Zoë Roberts, began life as an experimental show destined for the Edinburgh Fringe, but it drifted off course due the Covid pandemic, eventually washing up on the shores of London’s West End, where it is now in its third triumphant year. It is also taking Broadway by storm, and has embarked on a simultaneous touring production that is visiting Chester’s Storyhouse this week, as part of its extensive UK leg, before heading off across the globe.
Act I charts the story from the conception of the plot by the likes of Fleming and Ewen Montagu, its rejection by Colonel Johnny Bevan, and its resurrection following input from the seemingly bumbling Charles Cholmondely, a naturalist with a fondness for newt analogies. It then takes us through the meticulous planning stage to the release of the fictitious ‘Bill’ into the briny depths. The action sees a gradual buildup of pace and comic energy through this first act, as we are introduced to the key characters by a cast of five who multi role with immense skill. One of these is Bevan’s trusty Secretary Hester, played here by Christian Andrews. As part of the plan to add verisimilitude by planting ‘pocket litter’ on the corpse, Hester is charged with writing a letter from his supposed girlfriend. It is in her lengthy and tearful song ‘Dear Bill’ that she reveals hidden angst for her own sweetheart Tom, in what becomes the heart of the act and its turning point. The song offers a disarming moment of genuine emotion in what has thus far been non-stop, almost Pythonesque humour. There’s a similarly moving moment at the act’s climax, when the submarine crew offer thanks to the deceased as they send him on his way, but the mood is due to shift after the interval.
Act II begins with a scene reminiscent of The Producers, as a chorus line of Nazi soldiers perform a rambunctious high-kicking routine ‘Das Übermensch’ after which Bevan (Jamie-Rose Monk) upbraids the audience for applauding the enemy. Just when the story could barely become any more bizarre, as the team set about ensuring that the body is discovered, and an autopsy given less than meticulous attention, a further sub-plot develops. Montagu, played with the stiffest of upper lips by Georgina Hagan, is concealing documents in order to make a book and film script out of the story. Whilst he is censured by Cholmondeley (played by the utterly manic Seán Carey) MI5 Clerk Jean (Katy Ellis) and Hester, he nonetheless actually gets to go through with this – and the result was indeed the real life 1953 feature film ‘The Man Who Never Was’.
The whole of this second act is played at an increasingly breakneck pace, with the muti-roling from the cast executed with military precision, and every witty line landing exactly on target. Ben Stones’ set and Mark Henderson’s lighting really turn up the gas too, with some dazzling effects that transform the erstwhile straightforward operations room into something surprisingly animated. As we head towards closing numbers ‘Did We Do It?’ and ‘Glitzy Finale’ we get to see how this quintessentially British comedy succeeds on the Broadway stage too. Robert Hastie’s direction measures the energetic trajectory of the show with razor sharp accuracy, and an eclectic score fizzes with the splendid accompaniment under the musical direction of Sam Somerfield.
With at least two books, two feature films and two musicals based on these events, Operation Mincemeat is as well kept a secret as the ‘Secret War Rooms’ for which there are signposts dotted about the streets of Liverpool. Most of these stories are serious, but this gloriously funny musical does something that only a British sensibility could have possibly done with such a frankly gruesome turn of events.
Operation Mincemeat is comic genius in the way it takes a piece of history and presents it with remarkable factual accuracy whilst making it hilariously funny. It will make you laugh, and quite probably cry too, and it richly deserves its completely sold-out week here at Storyhouse.
The touring cast, incidentally, numbers nine players, who rotate roles in successive performances to give each of them some down-time, so look out for notices in the theatre to see who is on stage during your visit.
You can find contact details on the Storyhouse website if you are hoping for box office returns, and details of the ongoing tour dates can be found here.
Star rating: 5 stars
Production photography by Matt Crockett
Members of the cast of Operation Mincemeat 
Holly Sumpton as Ewen Montagu (not performing on Press Night) 
Jamie-Rose Monk as Jonny Bevan
This review was originally written for publication by Good News Liverpool
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