It’s taken me many hours to deliver to you the unusual mysteries in the background of this very late entry into the ’24 -’25 New York theatre season. There are over 40 names of individuals and companies appearing on the Playbill’s title page at the Golden Theatre where this wacky farce is currently running after its transfer from a successful debut in London in 2023. That’s over 40 “Producers” in New York led by John Thoday, Avalon, and something called “Spitlip” and finally by “Executive producer” Andrew Fell. To further complicate what is now on The Golden Theatre’s Broadway stage there are four composers, four lyricists, and book writers! Many others contributed sketches, plot twists, and dialogue; and the total affect seems to attract a large curious audience who found the results to be hilarious–if the vigor of their appreciation is any measure.
Five actors offer whirlwind performances with the three ladies playing butch men, and the two men playing campy twits. As everyone’s voice is amplified without mercy and the words are hurled at us at the speed of light, all we could tell about the performances is that they were all on the same polished level–which was all the more amazing as one of the five major characters was played by understudy Brandon Contreras who was right up there with his colleagues not missing a beat as he joined them in delivering the plot.
As to that plot–it is cleverly turned and tells us how the Allies in World War II fooled the German enemy by planting a letter on a dead body with false information in it about a plan to invade Sardinia instead of Sicily which led to all sorts of problems for the Germans and greatly helped us to win the war! Remember, this is a Musical so the cast of only five spent lots of time singing twenty-five ditties about being “Born to Lead,” “Love Is A Bird,” “Act As If,” “We Did It,” and “A Glitzy Finale.”
After 90 minutes of trying to enjoy Act One, I needed the accessible loo (keeping with the British theme), and the Golden Theatre (rather retrograde) did not have one. So I accepted the very kind offer to enjoy the one next door with strains of the Outsiders. But instead of disturbing the audience to return to the Golden for Act Two (since I already knew that we’d won the war) I confess I could not handle more of the same, so I did something I never do — I went home. For those who enjoy the Theatre of the Absurd, Mincemeat might be fun for you. I’d have called it Operation Mishmash.