From the creative team that brought you The Play That Goes Wrong in 2012 (and assorted sequels) comes this spy caper. As ever with Mischief productions, their latest work is a lot of fun and pays its dues to the great age of British farce (and pantomime too) with clever wordplay and physical comedy as things go increasingly awry.
We’re in London in 1961, at the height of the Cold War; various British, American and Russian spies are gathered in the Piccadilly Hotel as MI6 has learned a top secret file is about to be handed over to the Soviets by a double agent.
CIA operatives Lance (Dave Hearn) and – don’t ask why – his mum Janet (Nancy Zamit) are keeping an eye on the KGB’s Sergei (Chris Leask) and Elena (Charlie Russell), who are in turn eavesdropping on them.
Into the scene of the handover come innocent young baker Bernard (Henry Shields) who is planning to propose to his high-flying girlfriend Rosemary (Adele James), and the bumptious actor Douglas Woodbead (Henry Lewis), who is in the capital to audition for the part of James Bond. But as he pronounces the operatives’s code name as “ooh seven” chances are he won’t get the part …
Cue misunderstandings, mistaken identities, swapped clothing and briefcases and soon everybody is under suspicion and looking very guilty indeed, while super-efficient hotel receptionist Albert (Greg Tannahill) tries to please everybody but adds to the mayhem.
Lewis and Shields have written an intricately plotted story full of agents, double agents – even triple and quadruple agents – and given their fellow cast members some cracking gags, although some good lines get lost in the blizzard of funnies.
The opening scene - where confusion reigns as spies known simply as O, R, C and so on repeatedly respond to “Oh”, “Ah” and See?” in a briefing – is a delight, while David Farley’s set design adds great value, particularly in those scenes played out in four hotel bedrooms set across two levels. Precision timing is required for the exits and entrances and the cast don’t disappoint on the slapstick front.
A couple of scenes could do with some more zip under Matt DiCarlo’s direction and some running gags don’t last the course, but this is an evening of daft, uncomplicated fun.
