The Comedy About Spies at Noël Coward Theatre
At this point in time, so dependable is the Mischief Theatre brand, so firmly cemented over the course of six plays, a Christmas special and two series of a TV show, that one greets their latest venture with what can only be described as fond trepidation. Lines will be flubbed with laser-like precision, the set will undoubtedly come undone to escalating degrees of absurdity, and through it all, the troupe’s cast will dependably essay the types that suit them best. Where Henry Shields (often playing wannabe artiste director Chris Bean, whose doomed efforts to keep the show on the rails have often been the closest thing to a connecting narrative thread across all of the plays) leans towards nervy nebbishes, Henry Lewis brings booming bluster to an assortment of egomaniacal cads, while ensemble regulars Charlie Russell, Nancy Zamit and Dave Hearn hurl themselves into whatever accent, costume and carefully co-ordinated onstage indignity that is required of them. There may be a little straining, a little over-eagerness, but those who have come to love Mischief Theatre have long accepted these qualities as ingredients, not defects. Any gag that fails to connect will be promptly smoothed over by the inherent charm of the gang’s everything-but-the-kitchen-sink commitment to getting a laugh.
Still, upon entering the Noel Coward theatre for their latest bubblegum confection, one has to wonder if a breaking point of silliness is soon to be reached. After all, could there really be new heights to scale after the troupe has tackled everything from magic to Peter Pan to heist movies to (on their TV show) courtroom dramas, haunted house horror and the Nativity itself? Does the tagline (CIA. KGB. LOL.) provoke the wrong kind of eyeroll? Improbably, The Comedy About Spies is the freshest a Mischief production has felt in some time, due solely to the sheer, confident brio of it. There is little to break the comforting, pre-established mold here, and sticklers for consistency (no doubt the entirely wrong crowd for this, but nonetheless) may briefly question if they are seeing the farce-within-a-farce, metatextual efforts of the Mischief crew to put on a show or a farce that simply exists of itself (in this case, it appears to be the latter). But through an honest sense of affection for the spy spoofs of yesteryear and what may be their most tightly scripted run of non-stop tomfoolery since the original Play that Goes Wrong, the results are consistently funny and inventive enough to suggest plenty of gas left in the tank.
Perhaps the smartest move director Matt Dicarlo and writers Shields and Lewis make is to situate much of the shenanigans within a single hotel. As the wheels on a largely irrelevant espionage plot first begin to turn, one dreads the strain a sense of geographic sprawl may place on the show, but the ensemble is swiftly forced into slapstick proximity within the confines of a space ruled by a fussy concierge (Greg Tannahill). Among them are Bernard Wright (Shields) a hapless baker hoping to propose to his girlfriend Rosemary (Adele James); a vain, barely D-list actor (Lewis) prepping his audition for James Bond; a mother-son CIA duo (Zamit and Hearn, respectively) and an odd couple of Russian operatives (Russell and Chris Leask). As they collide, the Mischief team offer ample reminders of just what easy work they can make of planting a host of idiotic seeds for what will later become a cascading series of even more proudly idiotic punchlines. Additionally, when they are on form, their understanding of the potential for the smallest and stupidest things to score the biggest laughs is no less finely honed. Lewis makes a meal of his buffoon’s own idiosyncratic interpretation of the Bond script (“Oooooh, seven!”), while the commitment of Leask’s Russian putz to his over-rehearsed backstory is somehow more amusing each time it returns. There’s near-acrobatic use of a dummy, an escalating series of bread-related puns and, improbably, something like complete emotional arcs for the entire ensemble, making for a conclusion that is unexpectedly and resoundingly satisfying.
Ultimately, some exhaustion can’t help but settle in as the oddly lengthy Comedy About Spies enters its homestretch. Whether or not the play sustains its madcap energy the whole way through may be in the eye of the beholder, but never does it lose the undeniable and infectious purity of old-timey French farce delivered at a high level. Perhaps the time will come when Mischief’s preternatural ability to one-up themselves finally runs out, but it hasn’t arrived yet.
The Comedy About Spies may be Mischief Theatre’s tightest work since The Play that Goes Wrong, and when delivered to an enthusiastically receptive crowd, the results are hard to resist. Undeniable though the formula may be, this new play finds the team in confident command of it.
Thomas Messner
Photos: Mark Senior
The Comedy About Spies is at Noël Coward Theatre until 5th September 2025. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.
Watch the trailer for The Comedy About Spies at Noël Coward Theatre here:
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