Ryan Gilbey — Theater Critic

David Farley’s doll’s-house-style cross-section set, which splits the hotel into colour-coded quarters in the first act, is glorious, but his designs grow fussy and over-dressed in act two and leave one craving the ingenious minimalism of Operation Mincemeat. The depth of emotion in that similarly silly show is also absent here, making The Comedy About Spies a more mechanical endeavour. Except, that is, for actor and co-writer Henry Lewis’s poignant final line reading, which bestows dignity on to a character (the Bond wannabe) who has been a buffoon throughout. This time, there were tears in my eyes for a different reason.

Making his stage debut, Sex Education’s Asa Butterfield whooshes the action along, moving economically between characters (his switch to playing Martin’s stepfather is all in the shoulders) and exuding a charm that is never ingratiating. Indeed, there is real finesse in his ability to inhabit a man who is in need without seeming needy. Parts of this one-person play could be fortified and fleshed-out, but no one could apply its title to his performance.

By the end, any losses have come out in the wash. No one on stage has been seriously changed or challenged, and nor have we. As morals go, “You win some, you lose some” feels like a poor return on an audience’s investment.

The seven-strong company share multiple roles except for the magnetic Brandon Bassir, who devotes his energies fittingly to the bloody-minded Booth, a man who views the fatal bullet as “a strike against the elite”. Bassir introduces another layer of meta-textual commentary channelling Taxi Driver’s Travis Bickle (who influenced Reagan’s would-be killer) whenever Booth slips into smarmy wooing mode. Meanwhile, Clara Onyemere would make a riveting Lincoln even without the irony of a Black female actor playing the role in a year which could give the US its first Black female president.