There is always comfort in tradition, and while we tend to find ourselves intrigued by works of art that promise to demonstrate audacious and subversive methods, its often those that adhere closely to conventions that sometimes offer us the most well-rounded entertainment, granted it is done in a way that is still artistically resonant and interesting, one of the fundamental requirements of good art. Operation Mincemeat is the kind of solid, well-made war drama that we don’t often get anymore, especially since it tackles a subject that has been analysed and reconfigured from every possible angle, to the point where it seems unlikely that we’ll see any historically-accurate retelling of the event that we have not encountered before (or even revisionist or alternate versions, as some of them have been quite successful). John Madden is a very reliable director who may not be as established as some of his peers in terms of authorial vision, normally working from screenplays by writers who possess more autonomy over the final product than the director himself – but he is someone who has proven to be consistent in pulling together many different concepts and finding a way to make even the most abstract stories seem cinematic. The screenplay was adapted by Michelle Ashford (who has had considerable experience in looking at historical subjects in her previous work), and tells the story of the efforts of a group of renegade British military operatives planning an invasion of Sicily, and who concoct an absurd plan to fool the German army into thinking they are going to invade Greece instead – and as many will remark, the plot (fondly named “Operation Mincemeat”) is considered one of the most successful examples of wartime deception in military history, an event that not only saved countless lives, but changed the course of history, being pivotal to the eventual victory of the Allied forces. It makes for suitably compelling viewing, and Madden helms the sometimes titanic film with immense dedication, proving it to be a much better film than it appears on the surface.

Operation Mincemeat feels like a film produced in the 1960s, whereby time had given artists enough distance from the end of the Second World War in order to allow them to make more complex works, but still having it be recent enough for the palpable anger and disdain to be present. In a landscape where contemporary war films are often about the spectacle more than they are the structure or storyline, a project like this reminds us of the incredible effectiveness of the more simple methods of filmmaking. The majority of Operation Mincemeat takes place in offices and hallways, with very little actual war-time activity being shown on screen, mostly being restricted to the scenes that bookend the film and contextualize it – and yet, it always seems so extraordinarily compelling. Part of this comes about as a result of Madden (as well as his collaborators – without a strong cast and crew, the film would’ve fallen apart at the seams) understanding that what fascinates viewers are not always the spectacle of battle, but also the intricate plotting that goes into planning them, which is what this film is squarely focused on. Considering much of the real-life Operation Mincemeat was designed as a way to save lives (and that there were exactly zero casualties that came about as a result of the plan), we can alleviate some of the burdens that come with films that glorify the actions of the officials that often see war as little more than a game of chess, with just astronomically higher stakes. There’s something so fascinating about being immersed in a story focused on intentional deception – we know such acts exist in warfare and are often well-utilized by both sides of a conflict, but rarely have we seen works produced that emphasize how important they actually are, showing every stage, from the conception right to the moment where it all comes to fruition. There are so many fascinating ideas embedded in Operation Mincemeat, we find ourselves drawn into a world we’d not normally find intriguing, which is a clear merit on the part of the filmmakers tasked with telling this story.

In all honesty, as well-crafted as Operation Mincemeat may be, the subject matter does not immediately strike the average viewer as being the most riveting – of course there is always the argument to be made that judging a work of art based on a cursory glance is not a good way to judge a work, it does ultimately contribute to how viewers feel about specific kinds of material. In this regard, the film offsets allegations that it is trying to make a relatively small event seem major by ensuring that the key players in the conflict are portrayed by a terrific cast of actors. Madden has rarely had trouble attracting tremendous performers to his films, since he has been prolific enough to have made many connections in the industry, and Operation Mincemeat makes excellent use of every one of its actors. The film is led by two actors, namely Colin Firth and Matthew MacFadyen, both of whom are doing excellent work as the masterminds behind the titular plot. Firth is giving a performance that any formidable, dignified actor of a certain age would be able to give, but even at his most conventional, he is profoundly compelling, using his upright elegance to carefully explore the internal turmoil of a man caught between worlds. MacFadyen matches him on every level, and the duo command the film with grace and dedication. Amongst those that surround them are the always wonderful Penelope Wilton and Kelly MacDonald, both of whom are welcome presences in an otherwise very bleak film, and the gifted Johnny Flynn, who is playing a character familiar to most of us, but who I’ll intentionally not name for the sake of the surprise that comes when we realize who this young man represents. The cast of Operation Mincemeat is the primary reason behind its success, and Madden once again proves that he is a truly reliable director when it comes to extracting great performances from his actors, who are willing to brace for the many challenges that may come with such a story, since the guidance they receive from the veteran filmmaker seems to be enough to draw out exceptional work.

The boundary between films that demonstrate the fierce patriotism of those charged with fighting in inhumane wars, and the relaying of jingoistic propaganda is so narrow, many films believe they were working within the former, when in reality they’re firmly consolidated into the latter. Critiquing wartime ambitions is a challenging task for any storyteller, especially those that do want to create something riveting – we’ve seen several instances of bleak, harrowing demonstrations of the physical and psychological torment that is brought on by war, and while these are suitably compelling and effective, they can also be far too brutal. A well-crafted war film is one that takes an event and looks at it from a number of perspectives, offering criticism where it is necessary, and celebration in the moments that warrant it. Arguably, Operation Mincemeat is a film focused on the people of higher rank, and who ultimately serve as the hands that guide the war, conducting meetings from the safety of their urban offices, rather than being present on the battlefields themselves (with many of the more gritty war films drawing our attention to the plight of the soldiers on the ground, and deservedly so – they’re the true heroes of any conflict), so it can sometimes feel disingenuous that the film is forcing us to cheer for individuals that may be valiant in their efforts to both serve their country and save the lives of civilians, but who are nestled safely out of harm’s way. As we’ve mentioned, the valiant intentions outweigh the more pompous aspects of life as a high-ranking military official, and the film does exceptionally well in showing that these are people who have a strong investment in saving lives, more than they do defending the honour of their country. Perhaps we can attribute this to the attempts to conceal the sometimes delusional and cutthroat nature of military strategy (since it’s doubtful that this process is nearly as civil and dignified as shown here), and there are arguments to be made that Operation Mincemeat depends on the audience buying into the sometimes superficial emotions – but it is just so extraordinarily compelling, we can overlook some of the more heavy-handed components in favour of the underlying message, which is rooted in reality.

Operation Mincemeat certainly doesn’t offer us anything particularly revolutionary – it is instead two hours of well-crafted, meaningful storytelling that may pander towards those with an inherent interest in historical events (much more than it would general audiences), but is still a solid and entertaining work that wears its heart on its sleeve, and makes it very clear that it is heading in a particular direction, inviting the audience to accompany it as it ventures into the past. Like any well-rounded historical drama, the film doesn’t require much from the viewer outside of our trust – from beginning to end, we’re taken on a journey into the concealed rooms that served as the stage for planning one of the most fascinating acts of deception in history, and we are made to feel like we are in the presence of these intelligent military personnel, actively observing the gradual construction of this plot, from conception to execution – and every moment resonates with a blend of both acerbic wit and genuine valour. It’s far from the definitive film on the subject (although this is one of its merits – too many films centred on such subjects tend to think it’s their moral obligation to condense the entirety of the Second World War into a couple of hours – the best war films tend to be those that just focus on a small segment and explore it properly), but it has many incredible ideas, and it is made by someone whose genuine interest in the material exudes off every frame of the film. Operation Mincemeat offers us two memorable hours of espionage and deception, punctuated by a feeling of genuine excitement and some wickedly funny moments – and when dealing with this kind of subject matter, this seems like the most appropriate method of telling a story that sometimes proves that reality can often be stranger than fiction.