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My favourites from across the years.

In my recent review of the hottest new musical in town, Standing at the Sky’s Edge, I caveated my middling assessment with the note that I have a particularly low tolerance for all things sentimental. It got me thinking that it might be useful to do a little overview of some of my top-tier musicals, so you can see how my tastes compare with your own. I am genuinely a fan of the genre, so I thought it might also just be a bit of fun for me to revisit some of my favourites. 

Operation Mincemeat (Fortune Theatre, til 16 November 2024)

While we’re on the topic of hot new musicals, it would be remiss not to mention Operation Mincemeat. After hearing the buzz about this show when it made its West End debut last year, I was lucky enough to score lottery tickets in only my second week on the waitlist. The two tenners my tickets cost me add up to probably the best £20 I’ve ever spent.

Operation Mincemeat has a pretty zany premise: it’s a musical comedy based on a real WWII espionage operation that saw MI5 hoodwink Jerry by planting fake battle plans on a corpse that they dropped on a Spanish beach. (No, really.) Despite the eccentricity of the plot (or perhaps because of it), Operation Mincemeat is absolutely brilliant, a tour de force of lyricism, comedy, performance and staging. The almost totally gender-blind casting sees all roles taken on by just five performers, each of them absolutely word-perfect – no mean feat considering the astonishingly rapid-fire sung dialogue. The show invites comparisons with Hamilton because of its similarly clever wordplay (and because it also features several of its co-creators as the stars). As well as being technically excellent, the music is also thoroughly enjoyable, with memorable hits including the show’s main theme ‘God That’s Brilliant’ and Nazi club anthem ‘Das Ubermensch’. (No, really.)

Operation Mincemeat is perfectly pitched between comedy and pathos, offering properly gut-busting jokes alongside moments that will have you clutching for the hanky (the show is particularly moving in its tribute to the homeless man whose body was used for the operation – a facet of this bizarre historical tale that’s often forgotten in retellings). The gender-bending nature of the casting lends itself to humour (in a team of stars, Natasha Hodgson stands out for her exceptional performance as the English toff/Alpha male Monty) but never undercuts the moments of seriousness; when Jak Malone as matronly secretary Hester sings of a lost love, only the most heartless would have dry eyes.

Come From Away (touring the UK til Jan 2025)

It’s only now I’m sitting down to write about these personal favourites that I realise how many similarities there are between my first and second pick. Set in the tiny town of Gander up in Canada’s Newfoundland, Come From Away is another humorous but moving retelling of a one-of-a-kind true story. The show takes place in the few days after 9/11, when little Gander played host to thousands of plane passengers diverted away from US airspace. It’s a pretty inspiring tale of humanity and finding common ground, as the Canadians open their hearts and homes and these strangers from all over the world find a way through their grief together. It sounds pretty heavy, and it is, of course, being set in the aftermath of one of the world’s most shocking terrorist attacks. But the overwhelming feeling of Come From Away is one of hope and optimism and love, as we come to adore the Newfoundlanders and their newfound friends. And the show manages to find plenty of ways to make us laugh, particularly in the locals’ wonderful and whacky traditions (‘Screech In’ has the hosts exhorting their guests to “KISS THE FISH!”). 

Of course, no musical would be a hit without, well, good music, and Come From Away has that in spades. Rather than an orchestra hidden in the pit offering traditional showtunes, a Canadian folk band sits on-stage throughout the performance and we are treated to toe-tapping melodies on fiddles, banjos and drums. Having seen it at least five years ago now, back in Melbourne, I still get the tunes stuck in my head sometimes (“Hey, hey, come on inside, nothing ventured, nothing tried!”) The staging is stripped-back and clever, with just a handful of crates and assorted household chairs repurposed a thousand ways over the show’s duration. Moving, funny, intriguing and original, it’s well worth a look if you can catch it on its current UK tour. 

Les Miserables (Sondheim Theatre, til . . . forever?)

Sometimes things are classics for a reason. 

I had a bit of a Les Mis-themed year in 2014, my final year at school. The Tom Hooper film had come out a few years before, and a stage revival was set to hit the Melbourne stage. I, in all my teenage pomposity, decided to dedicate myself to the task of finishing Victor Hugo’s classic novel before seeing the show. It took me a full six months (I’ll never get back the days I lost reading Hugo’s 50-page description of the Battle of Waterloo), but I managed it. Though I’m sure at least 70% of my determination was down to a desire to prove my literary worth, there was also something about the story that really stuck with me – the deep sense of empathy for the most impoverished among us; the charged revolutionary hope that things can be better. That kick-started an obsession that saw me devour in a few short weeks the movie, a fascinating exhibition at the Melbourne Museum about the story’s adaptation for the stage, and then of course the musical itself (my tickets being a post-graduation gift from my mother). The musical became a favourite very quickly.

I think Les Miserables might be one of the greatest ever adaptations of a novel, because it so effectively captures the grand themes Hugo explored over more than 1000 pages. The booming drums of ‘Look Down’ and the fluttering flute of ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ tell us in an instant the desperation and sadness of these forgotten folk; the grief is so palpable in ‘Empty Chairs at Empty Tables’, the unrequited love so heartbreaking in ‘On My Own’. It all culminates with love and hope and righteous anger in the rousing chorus of ‘Do You Hear the People Sing’. I sometimes wonder why you don’t hear ‘Do You Hear the People Sing’ being sung at protest marches, because the political themes are still so relevant today. Les Mis still resonates because its simple, compassionate message – that we can use love and kindness to care for one another, no matter how wretched – is powerful and eternal. This story will never fail to send shivers down my spine; I loved it when I saw it in Melbourne, I loved it when I saw it in London, and I’m sure I’ll love it again and again as the years go by. 

Honourable mention: The Book of Mormon (The Prince of Wales Theatre, also til forever?)

Listen, I’m not the right person to tell you whether or not this play from the South Park creators about Mormon missionaries in disease-ravaged Africa is problematic. It’s certainly not PC and I wouldn’t go see it with your parents. But damn it if it isn’t one of the most entertaining things I’ve ever seen on stage. It’s gut-bustingly funny, as you would expect, but what’s perhaps more of a surprise is how brilliant the music is: ‘Turn it Off’, ‘Hasa Diga Eebowai’ and the opening ‘Hello’ are all proper earworms. A very fun night at the theatre.