How to enjoy a musical

By May Kirk

Some people argue musicals are an acquired taste like Marmite or Earl Grey Tea. This note by an enthusiastic young art history student is a reminder of the logistical and technical complexities put in place for the mere enjoyment and entertainment involving any successful musical

It was a real successful British military operation completed in 1943, in the midst of WW2, while the war was going poorly for the allies, and it was a desperate plan to mislead the Germans about the allied invasion of Sicily that year. Its name: Operation Mincemeat, now a West End musical. The plan in question was highly unusual: to plant a dead man’s body with information from the British, on the coast of southern Spain, in order to move Hitler’s troops out of Sicily. Sounds complicated, and so it was. The musical puts its own comedic spin on the story and with the help of impressive technical elements, a joyous yet somewhat serious production is created. But how exactly is this done?

Lights dim, curtains lift and what sits behind is an old MI5 office. Each weathered prop and old map on the wall transports the stage to the 1940s. The dark greens and browns create a more mysterious, underground setting: hinting to the secrecy of the MI5 and the plan itself. If anyone knew of Operation Mincemeat, the allies could lose the war. Here the audience has been let in on a top secret mission, as if we were a part of the singing MI5 unit as well. Doors on either side of the stage lead to the unknown for the audience: confining this story to one room and a secret shared only by us and the actors. Any successful musical performance requires a seamless entrances and exits of not just of characters, but moveable props and furniture as well. It is one of the ways of keeping its audience engaged and enthralled, and it is done not only with catchy songs and dance routines.

In the case of Operation Mincemeat there is also a constant busy motion of the hectic military plan been played out. It is far from clunky since sets and characters are changed through these doors quickly and efficiently, exactly how an MI5 office is supposed to be run. Props, including desks, are attached with wheels and are moved at well timed moments, whether that is during a song or a slight pause in between scenes. During scenes, all movement stops and the audience’s attention is perfectly captured. This simply built set is nothing too extravagant (yet) and it gets the job done: it keeps the audience entertained, focused and informed, which is all the actors need for them to tell the story.

The interval comes to a close and the second half begins. The once brown shaded back wall is now a piercing red, and plastered in the middle is an image of the Swastika. The speakers are blasting loud almost rave-like music, while bright white lines of lights move erratically around the red wall, giving that aggressive sort of strobe effect. The cast perform a synchronized dance whilst wearing old WW2 Nazi uniforms, creating a large contrast with the first half of the show. The storyline has remained humorous throughout, but it is this opening where they go all out, and the audience is left laughing and cheering.

The stage is almost unrecognizable, before suddenly returning back to the original MI5 setting. We are reminded that the military deceit has not yet been completed. The second half seems slightly more hectic than the first, with many scenes and sets, from the office and coroner’s in Huelva, Spain, to Spilsbury’s back in England. However, this only emphasizes the last stressful rush to make sure the plan works. Switching costumes, characters, props, sets and backdrops dramatizes the complicated ins and outs of Operation Mincemeat and allows the audience to see the absurdity of the plan. And what’s even weirder is that this factual plan during WW2 all worked well in the end. 

Which is what lead up to the ‘Glitzy Finale’, the final close to this musical. It’s a song that tells the story of each character and what happened to them afterwards, as well as the last years of WW2. Each portion of the song is paired with a set change. For the Americans, a fighter plane appears at center stage, and for Spain, a postcard shoots down from the stage ceiling. The set throughout the play has been simple, but effective in bringing the story to life. Whereas, in the finale the designer has taken their opportunity to show off everything this small, unassuming theatre can do.

For the main character Montagu, the arrogant Eton boy who put the plan forward, the back stage wall folds out into a grand red set of stairs, as he comes flying out to for his ‘movie’. Huge, glorious scarlet curtains engulf the stage, exaggerating the affluence and excessive nature of his character, something the musical has satirized throughout the performance. Although, suddenly all of this disappears and the backwall fully opens out. The audience is met with somber music and dark shadows across the stage. Shimmering movements of light reveal a foreboding ocean behind the cast. They all stand still, whilst one voice narrates the story of Glyndwr Michael, the man whose body was planted for the Nazis. Without him Operation Mincemeat would not exist. This is a comforting end to the musical, maintaining the gravity of the war and the precariousness of life in the 1940s.

It is clear that although the backstage elements of this production seem somewhat simple, the story could not be told in the same way. Especially for the second half, much of the audience’s joy and laughter comes from aspects like the set, props, lighting and costume. The acting and writing are phenomenal, but it is every part of theatre production that makes a good musical, and that is what Operation Mincemeat is.

May Kirk is currently studying A-Level (Advanced Level Qualifications) Art History in Forest Hill College in South London. She is planning to study Theatre Studies at Bristol or Leeds University. Her interest is in set design and theatre production.