The Comedy About Spies

The Comedy About Spies might just be Mischief’s slickest, silliest, and most stylish caper yet.

Direction by Matt DiCarlo was razor-sharp. Every movement felt intentional, yet completely chaotic in that signature Mischief way. It’s the kind of precision where you know if anyone sneezed in the wrong place the whole scene would fall apart—but it never does. Perfection.

Movement director Shelley Maxwell deserves a medal. She clearly studied each actor’s quirks and turned them into comedy weapons. Honestly, the choreography of clumsiness was so precise it made me suspicious—are they all secretly elite gymnasts?

The set (David Farley) was another star. This time, with flys at his disposal, Farley went all-in. Art Deco meets spy thriller meets “how on earth did they pull that off?” Each transition was smooth enough to make Bond jealous.

Lighting (Johanna Town) gave us both glamour and gags. Even the pre-show logo animation felt like a warm-up act, setting the mood for the glorious nonsense ahead.

Sound (Jon Fiber) and the music nailed the tone perfectly—part pastiche, part drama, and all part of the joke.

Now, the book (Lewis & Shields). Mischief shows are usually 90% chaos, 10% plot. This time, they’ve thrown in… feelings?! The script still delivers the ridiculous gags, but it also makes you actually care about these characters. Which, frankly, feels like cheating—because by the time the dramatic twists hit, you’re caught off guard. Clever move.

Performance wise David & Nancy’s chemistry? So good you could bottle it. Charlie & Chris? Their slow-burn comedic relationship sneaks up on you like a punchline you didn’t see coming. Chris is reliably hilarious, but Adele James—wow. First time seeing her on stage and she was magnetic, balancing charm and menace like a pro. But… let’s be real. Adam Byron stole the show. Every entrance, every line, every eyebrow raise—pure comedy gold.

If I had one tiny note? At times the pace was so fast that a joke or two risked being steamrolled by the next bit. But honestly, that’s like complaining your cocktail had too much rum—it’s still a good problem to have.