During World War II, the British secret service did indeed conduct a deception operation known as Operation Mincemeat, in which the British dressed a dead body in the uniform of a Royal Marine, transported him to the coast of Spain, and planted fake documents on him in the hopes that German spies would find the body and its falsified military papers and move their troops out of Sicily, leaving it open for an Allied Invasion. 

If you’re thinking this doesn’t sound like the right kind of material for a musical, fret not: in the hands of the geniuses at SpitLip (David Cumming, Felix Hagan, Natasha Hodgson, and Zoë Roberts) it’s musical comedy gold. 

The cast—which includes 3 of the 4 members of SpitLip, plus Claire-Marie Hall and Jak Malone—is a tight ensemble of bumbling clowns, who tackle the breakneck pacing with unflagging energy and megawatt charm. 

Charles Cholmondeley, the mealy-mouthed operative who comes up with the titular operation, lacks the confidence to present the idea to his boss, Colonel Johnny Bevan (Zoë Roberts, hysterical in every role she inhabits). David Cumming is hilarious and lovable as the nerd so forgettable even his coworkers can’t remember him despite working with him for six years. Just watching him walk across the stage (I can only guess the direction was to avoid bending his knees as much as possible) is a delight. His dubious savior comes in the form of his coworker Ewen Montagu, who has enough arrogance and showmanship to sell Charles’ bonkers idea and actually get it approved. Natasha Hodgson is brilliant as the pompous, Eton-educated Montagu. Her gravelly voice and swaggering walk are perfect foils to Cumming’s meek Cholmondeley. 

The five actors switch roles and swap genders throughout, sometimes turning into a new character right before our eyes with a hairpin turn or the donning of a new costume piece or prop—the clever use of costumes and set by Ben Stones.

It’s this small, ragtag sensibility that keeps the show so utterly endearing. While the story lacks propulsive action, particularly in the first act, you hardly notice due to the uproarious comedy and the show’s music—an inventive pastiche of contemporary musical theatre and pop. (Music and lyrics, as well as the book, are all by the members of SpitLip.) Director Robert Hastie keeps the farce rolling, never missing an opportunity for comedy. The script’s raucous, joke-a-minute pacing is thrilling. Wartime espionage has never been this fun.

There’s a real, beating heart at the center of the show that elevates it above mere farce. Beneath the spoofs and gags, there’s an emotional depth that makes the comedy funnier and the satire sharper. While skewering the stuffy, educated British elite, SpitLip has done its due diligence by making room among the jokes to pay homage to the real man whose body was used as a pawn in a military operation. 

Like every member of the cast, Jak Malone plays many roles, most deliciously a foppish coroner, but his tender turn as Hester Leggatt, head of the secret service’s secretarial pool, is the most poignant and well-acted. Along with Claire-Marie Hall as Jean Leslie, the young upstart who wants to be useful beyond her administrative duties, they give voice to the women often banished to the background in stories such as these. 

It’s a testament to its ingenuity that the show accomplishes all of this without ever taking itself too seriously. There are plenty of winks and nudges to the audience throughout, but make no mistake—Operation Mincemeat is some of the best of what musical theatre can be. It demands to be seen.

Operation Mincemeat runs through August 18th at the Golden Theatre in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.

I had never heard of the Buena Vista Social Club before this musical existed. When it was announced for an Off-Broadway run at the Atlantic in 2022, I was curious what director Saheem Ali would dream up at the intimate downtown venue. It was a pure delight. 

That sentiment holds true with the Broadway transfer, which opened earlier tonight at the Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre.

With a book by Marco Ramirez, Buena Vista Social Club tells the story of the Grammy Award-winning 1997 album, and the artists behind it who rose to international fame later in life. 

As our sturdy narrator Juan de Marcos (Justin Cunningham) tells us early on in the show: “Some of what follows is true, some of it only feels true,” but there is no doubt by the time you leave, you will have been transported to the heart of Havana with a smile on your face. 

In 1996, we find de Marcos meeting with the storied singer Omara Portuondo (Natalie Venetia Belcon) and pleading with her to come record an album of music to revive the Cuban sounds of yesteryear that have been lost to history. After some convincing from old friends, Omara reluctantly shows up to the studio when we flashback to 1956 and see the origins of these relationships. A tried and true musical theatre writing motif, here effortlessly flows back and forth thanks to the tremendous sound from the fabulous on-stage band led by Marco Paguia. 

On a recent Saturday matinee, the roars of the crowd following every song were akin to a [insert any popstar] at MSG. The music won the world over in the late nineties for a reason. Its delicious blend of Cuban rhythm and Afro-cuban percussion harkens back to the heyday and Golden era of Havana, yet feels timeless and perfect for today. It’s a sound we don’t get all that often on Broadway, and boy, do I hope it stays a while. 

Thanks to married duo Patrica Delgado and Justin Peck (Illinoise), the music comes alive with invigorating choreography that electrifies the Schoenfeld stage. Arnulfo Maldonado's gorgeously stunning Havana scenic design feels like I’ve stepped into the Cuban Epcot pavilion (positive connotation!!) and when paired with Tyler Micoleau’s striking lighting design is jubilant. 

A terrific ensemble transforms Buena Vista Social Club into a dazzling feast for the eyes and ears. This music has been enchanting audiences for decades, and now a whole new generation will get to dive head first into this world, and for that, we should all be thankful. 

‍Buena Vista Social Club is now in performances at the Gerald Schoendfeld Theatre on West 45th Street in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.

Joshua Harmon taps into a childlike state, of both wonderment and confused disappointment, in We Had a World, an exceptional new autobiographical play at City Center’s smallest stage. Director Trip Cullman harnesses the space’s intimacy while teasing a terrific trio of decades-spanning performances from Andrew Barth Feldman, Joanna Gleason and Jeanine Serrales.

Late in her life, Joshua’s grandmother Renee (Gleason) invites him over to a family reunion she knows will be explosive: it’ll be the first time his mother, her daughter Ellen (Serralles) is in the same room as her estranged sister. Renee grants him permission to write a play about their clan, so long as it’s “as bitter and vitriolic as possible,” but something happens as Joshua (Feldman) prepares to tell that tale. He realizes he must first describe his peculiar grandma – a bold, zany Manhattan broad from the same tragically shuttered factory as Auntie Mame – and his story quickly becomes about his and Ellen’s fraught relationship with her.

How could it not? Renee was the type to whisk the young lad through each new cultural scene, age-appropriateness be damned. Exposed to Robert Mapplethorpe exhibitions and Mike Leigh’s Secrets & Lies, the suburban, pre-adolescent Joshua clung to their dates as any wide-eyed kid would (in this case, a clearly nascently gay one). But it was her taking him to see Diana Rigg’s Medea on Broadway that most endeared him to her, and set his life on its course.

The distance between his matriarchs comes into focus when he eventually learns Renee is a lifelong alcoholic whose behavior during Ellen’s childhood drove an irreparable wedge. When she became pregnant with him, they reached an agreement that Renee was never to drink with Joshua around.

Harmon explores the complex feelings ignited by that compromise, and by the subtler trade-offs all family relationships are built upon, with his usual sophistication and knack for engaging dialogue. In its brief 100 minutes, he presents a searingly fleshed-out portrait of a family throughout the years, colored with the emotions of their saga’s sharpest moments.

He also could not have hoped for a better cast to enact their every nuance. Serralles is heartbreaking in capturing the moment a mother’s protective walls suddenly shatter, and her relationship to her son becomes not colder, but (time to grow up!) equal. Feldman remains the pre-eminent young, awkward charmer; a natural who, in a just world, will grow up to channel his Matthew Broderick charisma into a career of that stature. And Gleason, in her first New York stage role since 2012, is simply transcendent. In an increasingly fabulous display of old lady couture (designed by Kaye Voyce), she embodies both the rose-tinted memories of a favorite relative and their shadier realities with warmth, wit and ease.

Apparently an avid environmentalist, Harmon and his younger avatar occasionally weave ecological critiques into their conversation. Nana shouldn’t run the water while she brushes her teeth, and Reagan shouldn’t have taken down the solar panels his predecessor had installed on the roof of the White House. Through this play, Harmon expresses a profound disillusionment with grownups’ ability to fuck things up, be it family ties or the planet’s fate. If the thread linking the younger and older Harmons ability to express shock at this truth, and this thematic throughline in the play, is sometimes tenuous, it is nevertheless honest. We Had a World might be an elegy, but it is never an apology, and is mostly a celebration of the beauty that keeps us going.

We Had a World is in performance through April 27, 2025 at New York City Center Stage II on West 55th Street in New York City. For tickets and more information, visit here.