Theatre Review: Operation Mincemeat

Everyone I know told me to go and see this show. I resisted as long as possible but managed to score cheap last-minute tickets via a friend. I wish I hadn't waited so long!

If you're unaware of the book (or the film. Or the novelisation of the film. Or the Twitter thread. Or the inaccurate tumblr retelling.) the story involves a dastardly British plan to use a corpse to fool the Nazi menace into diverting their troops.

So, naturally, this is a glitzy West End Musical. And, as befitting a story with a hundred different characters, there are five cast members playing everyone. Obviously, it is very silly.

I can't lie - I found the start of the first act a bit underwhelming. It feels derivative of every other musical I've seen; like a British "Hamilton" without the budget. But as it wore on, something magical happened. The songs become interesting, the choreography leaps alive, and the cast started playing off the audience’s energy.

The second act has the strongest opening I've seen in a good long while. It builds to a terrific conclusion - with just the right amount of joy and melancholy.

Naturally, the cast are superb. It's exhausting watching them quick-change and shimmy across the stage. They are a beautifully formed ensemble. I usually don't like seeing shows multiple times, but given the frequent cast changes I find myself curious about how the various permutations work.

It is an excellent and kinetic work of theatre. It revels in its daftness and knows exactly when to tug your heartstrings.

Pre-Show

Regular readers know how much I love discussing the pre-show elements. Mincemeat isn't as bad as most, but still treats the paying audience with the contempt London venues are known for.

The theatre is cramped, with a packed bar, and inadequate toilet facilities. The corridors are decorated with photos of current cast members, which is nice. There's also a pre-show trivia quiz which, while fun, is only half-a-dozen questions - essentially a thinly veiled attempt to get you onto a mailing list.

The cost of the programme is exorbitant - an advert filled brochure with the same information as can be found on the website.

On the plus side, the stall seats are spacious and there's a bar to one side (if you can afford it).

A single "cheap" ticket usually costs about 3-months of Netflix. Full price tickets are a monocle-popping 7-months of Netflix! At that price I'd expect a free souvenir programme and a complimentary ice-cream. And possibly a foot-massage.

The ticket lottery reduces prices to a shade under 2-months of Netflix.

There's nothing like seeing live theatre performed by a hyper-talented cast. Theatres need to understand that home entertainment is ubiquitous, cheap, and comfortable. If I can't pause your show to go for a wee, you'd better make sure you have enough loos for everyone at the interval.