For your Next Anniversary, Make a Scene: A review of “Operation Mincemeat”
By Nathan Piette
Staff Writer
This summer, I was Hercules and my girlfriend, Tara, was supposed to be my Greek Muse. We were cast to perform together in a summer camp production, but her health issues held her in the hospital instead. The show went on, but our chance to share the stage did not. For our three-year anniversary, we finally got to experience a show together. Our first time enjoying the theatre as a couple was last week at the Friday-night showing of “Operation Mincemeat” at Boston’s historic Emerson Colonial Theatre. By the end of the night, I had cried in the front row and become the subject of intense Third Reich flashlight scrutiny. Romance takes many forms. We arrived Friday night at the theatre across from Boston Common and found ourselves surrounded by chandeliers, mosaics, ornamental woodwork, and heavenly scenes across ceilings. We had never experienced such an ornate theatre, nor had we sat so close to the stage. We were front row, dead center. There would be no hiding our reactions. Before the show and during intermission, we were seated in the Diamond Lounge. Guests there received a group escort to their seats, but were the only ones who also had front row seats. They sent someone separate to escort us. Wow. For one evening, we could pretend we were important enough to require supervision. For the walk back to the train, we could’ve used a hand as well, but with this being a dry campus, we’ll let that story lie. The secret door leading to a separate Diamond Bathroom, which let us skip that mile-long line, deserves a few rounds of applause for itself. Still, even the nicest bathroom can’t carry a musical. Fortunately, “Operation Mincemeat” carries its impressive weight on the backs of five incredibly strong cast members. The show follows a British intelligence operation during World War II that used a corpse with a fabricated identity to deceive the Nazis about Allied invasion plans. Somehow, this becomes excellent material for a musical comedy. Directed by Robert Hastie, the production makes an entire world out of five performers, rapid character changes, and surprisingly effective staging. Mariah Copeland, Katie Kleiger, Luke Antony Neville, Erin Ramirez, and Jake Bentley Young move among characters with an energy that makes the small cast feel much larger. Watching them keep the story moving is part of the entertainment. The production made excellent use of lighting, posture, and costume changes in such a high-paced environment. An elaborate set wasn’t needed to accomplish these nuanced and hilarious scenes. That speed makes the quieter moments especially powerful. My favorite moment was Neville’s performance of “Dear Bill.” As Hester Leggatt, he delivers a song whose emotional force comes from its tenderness. The song is a story built around manufacturing a convincing identity for a dead man, and every line was delivered as if the character was recalling a real love letter she sent to a real lover lost to a war. We sat directly in front of him and cried with faces already warm from tears of joy, and now chilled from compassion. I imagine they saw us, and kept us in mind for the opening scene of the second act. The audience returned to a blacked-out theatre. Five flashlights began sweeping across us. Then, just 10 feet from me, every beam stopped directly on my face. I responded with the dignity the situation required - sipping my drink, pinky extended, and waving to my new friends. They held that moment. I kept waving. The audience laughed louder and louder for nearly a whole minute, which is a long time to maintain diplomatic relations with five suspecting flashlights. The play goes on through its farce and flash tactics until it ends in a bang that you should really see for yourself. After a summer when the performance we planned to share became impossible, there was something wonderful and healing about enjoying a show that uses laughter to heal such a tragic time in human history. Tara and I didn’t go the distance on our stage, but these MI5 did, and in the long run, so will we. A+: ‘Operation Mincemeat’ chopped up five fabulous actors and a corpse into comedy and heartbreak.
