THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
This hilarious musical comedy is one of those amazing little theatrical gems that you come across too rarely which blows the roof off the theatre and leaves you with a spring in your step and wanting more.
Created by the company SpitLip it began at The Lowry in Salford, was developed further at New Diorama in 2019, was revised again during lockdowns and had 3 sold out runs at the Southwark Playhouse, before arriving at the Riverside.
You may have noticed the starry movie of the same name, currently in the cinemas. That tells the story straight. This is far from straight and, one suspects, is ten times better. It most certainly will have an afterlife as it's one of the best things to hit the London stage in a long time.
Outlandish as it may seem it is based on a true story about an MI5 operation during WWII which helped secure the Allied victory. That involved Intelligence Officers finding a corpse, creating a full identity of a fake British airman for it, and crashlanding the corpse in Spain so it can be found by enemy elements washed up on a beach. Handcuffed to the corpse is a briefcase containing false papers revealing plans for an invasion, a diversion to outsmart the Nazis. And it all worked.
What makes this unique is that the story is told by 5 incredibly talented gender-switching performers who play all the roles. With women lampooning the Old Boys Network culture of the Services it has added bite. Natasha Hodgson's Ewen Montagu, the ringleader, is an exquisite bounder (think Terry-Thomas) and delivers the vintage gags with great aplomb. Sean Carey, valiantly understudying for David Cumming, is a gifted physical comedian with the springiness of a young Donald O'Connor. He brings poignancy to the role of the nebbish insect-loving Charles Cholmondeley, who originated the plan only to have it co-opted by Montagu. Zoë Roberts as the boss of the outfit and as a dozy secret agent in Spain is also a joy, particularly at the slapstick, and Claire-Marie Hall, bursting with versatility, is the stymied ambitious young secretary.
And yet it is not just a skit show. The book, music, and lyrics tread a fine line between comedy and pathos and the incredibly varied score puts much larger shows to shame. The songs run the gamut from jolly Coward-like numbers, to belters, to cod Fosse dance numbers, to Rap and even a glorious 'Girls Aloud'-like anthem to female empowerment. There's even a hilarious Nazi skit which totally plays on the audience.
But then, when spinsterish office manager Hester Leggett helps crafts a fake love letter for the airman, she unwittingly reveals her own emotional hinterland and Jak Malone's perfect rendition of this utterly English torch song has the audience in tears.
There are no props apart from red springy phone cords and mobile filing cabinets but director Donnacadh O'Briain's theatrical invention infuses each scene wit and energy. You can see that every element has been polished like the stones of a great mosaic. Forget the movie, this is the one to see.
