Operation Mincemeat

Colin Firth

John Madden's Operation Mincemeat, currently streaming on Netflix, reminds me of the host of World War 2 films (most admittedly dire) churned out in the 1950s and 60s. In fact, the story of Operation Mincemeat served as the basis, in 1956, for Ronald Neame's forgettable The Man Who Never Was which starred Clifton Webb (in the role Colin Firth fills here) and Hollywood exile Gloria Grahame. Both films detail a disinformation campaign by British intelligence in 1943. The invasion of Sicily was imminent, so the powers that be wanted the Axis commanders to be mislead about the Allies next move. Documents were forged that indicated an invasion of Greece was forthcoming. These documents were planted on a corpse which was subsequently dropped off the coast of fascist Spain. As the planners of the operation had hoped, Spanish officials conveyed the gist of the documents to the Nazi high command and the invasion of Sicily was met with only token opposition.

Like The Man Who Never Was, Operation Mincemeat is faced with a problem of dynamics. How is one to make a feature film of people standing around desks talking engaging, if not exciting? The success of Operation Mincemeat is chiefly due to Madden's deft handling of a strong cast. The leads are perfectly cast, matched expertly with their characters' traits: Colin Firth (a stiff upper lip devotion to duty), Matthew Macfadyen (socially awkward and repressed), Kelly MacDonald (smart and earnest), Jason Isaacs (arrogant malice). The always welcome Johnny Flynn smoothly embodies Ian Fleming. His mellifluous narration gives the film a needed lyrical note. Best of all is Penelope Wilton as a staffer still mourning losses from the Great War.

Michelle Ashford's script adds an invented love triangle and a piercing glimpse at the backbiting and bureaucratic politicking contained within any intelligence service. Usually, I don't like romantic elements tacked onto true stories in order to spice things up, but I feel it added another dimension to the characters in Operation Mincemeat. I also appreciated how Ms. Ashford makes no sop to modern sensibilities in her portrayal of her characters' romantic longings. There is no sex, just a lot of mooning about with the occasional peck on the cheek. The film lacks any invigorating sensuality (it is British), but it captures a cosseted nation of a bygone era. 

Mr. Madden's stolid attributes as a director are underrated, but boast an economy of means for moderate effect. He may not be in even the second or third tier of British directors, but I prefer his understated exploration of character to, say, the elephantine concoctions of Christopher Nolan. Madden's solid visual construction seems old-fashioned in our frenetic, media-drenched age, but his works will outlive those of his flashier contemporaries.