Film Review: Giant
Review by Seth Wilby
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Spooky season is over, Mariah Carey has defrosted, and, across the country, pantomimes are starting to pop up. However, Jack and the Beanstalk is not the only place you can catch a theatrical giant this month, with the live capture of Mark Rosenblatt’s hit play Giant, inspired by the real events that surround Roald Dahl’s infamous antisemitism, making its way into cinemas internationally. However, would this film be a marvellous medicine for the cold months ahead, or would it prove far from peachy?
Giant, the debut play from director-turned-playwright Mark Rosenblatt, made its world premiere at London’s Royal Court Theatre, before critical acclaim and award success (including three Olivier Awards) led to it transferring to the West End’s Harold Pinter Theatre. It was there that, with most of the original cast reprising their roles, the production was professionally filmed and now, following the play’s Tony-winning stint on Broadway earlier this year, it is hitting the big screen. Theatre proshots are absolutely brilliant for improving accessibility of the arts, particularly for plays which only had a limited run, but I personally always worry that some of their power will be lost when it’s no longer live. However, I’m pleased to say that Giant remains as important a watch as ever.
It’s the summer of 1983, and a 66-year-old Roald Dahl (John Lithgow), freshly engaged and unsettled by renovations of his home, is preparing to publish The Witches, while being vilified in the press and under extreme threat for a sweepingly antisemitic book review which he, morally and unequivocally, stands by. In Giant, Rosenblatt imagines what could have happened in the aftermath, and what begins like a typical low-stakes publishing drama, scattered with witty quips (the writing has a remarkably funny touch), between Roald and the managing director of his British publisher, Tom Maschler (Elliot Levey), takes a disturbing and dramatic turn with the arrival of Jessie Stone (Aya Cash) from Dahl’s American publisher. “This only needs to be brief,” Tom states in their poorly coordinated plea for an apology, but what follows is anything but: a spiteful explosion of rage and malevolence which unfolds forensically in almost real time.
Rosenblatt has crafted a deeply unpleasant Dahl, and the looming, uncomfortable kindness of his initial snark remarks suddenly becomes something horridly hostile. Lithgow towers over the group as the titular giant, a threatening and demeaning presence in the role that rightfully earned him both an Olivier and a Tony Award. There is a grumpiness within his furrowed eyebrows, each nuance captured on camera, as he competently seeks vulnerabilities through targeted dialogue. Childish and malicious, he bites back whenever he feels attacked, certain in his mind and intellect, and fluently distributes jokes that aren’t funny and clearly seek to prove his dominance. Slowly spoken, Lithgow gives every word proper impact and thought, letting each send shockwaves through our perceptions, and any time he is on stage, we are on edge, anxiously awaiting his next snipe.
Described as “a human booby-trap”, Rosenblatt’s Roald is not a volcano, but a whole range, and when he erupts, the impact echoes with a disturbing and violent boom. He is not reduced to a one-dimensional villain, however, and there are moments of humanity, like when he addresses Stone’s disabled son, but by then, we’ve seen enough not to trust it. Lithgow displays some tangential regret, not of his actions or their impact, but because we see that, towards some people, he truly cares, and, near the end of Act Two, there’s a genuinely affecting emotional fragility, nearly winning us back just to use it for an attack stuffed full of a frightening malevolence. It’s a phenomenal and impressively gripping performance of a role remarkably written with a nuanced malice and repulsive depth.
Dispatched to “make it go away, or at least stink less”, his publishing-world persuaders, both Jewish (or “your gang”, as Roald sharply refers to them), have conflicting strategies to handle their provocative, power-hungry master. As Tom Maschler, Levey is fantastic and fascinating, competently presenting a Tom who is subdued and fatigued from years of dealing with Dahl. He’s gentle and keen to leave, with an ability to turn on this façade of artificial charm, and he seems unflappable in the early scenes, despite the unease whenever the book review is mentioned beyond a purely practical standpoint. A few times, an opinion seems to slip out and, panicked by the detail of Stone’s graphic descriptions, he gradually grows less willing to go along with it, becoming quieter and angrier before finally, and strikingly, snapping back with his true perspective.
As Jessie Stone, Aya Cash is intricate and resolute as the fictional character, cleverly crafted by Rosenblatt to allow the debate within the play to unfold in a surprisingly balanced manner, offering both sides in what becomes a provoking and detailed argument. Entering unbriefed as an appreciative, elegant American, Cash’s depiction quickly gives way to nerves as the dialogue piles on force, with Dahl abruptly asking, “How do you feel about Israel?”. At first, she's simply reflecting the wider thoughts of a community, but when her own thoughts ripple up, and she’s unable to remain accommodating, the play reaches a remarkable apex, and Cash delivers, with confidence hiding a quivering lip, an extraordinary, urgent monologue to end Act One, which alone is a piece of writing that makes for necessary viewing. Although more reserved in Act Two, Cash still delivers a mesmerising performance, which allows us to see first-hand the impact of Dahl’s venom.
Completing the central quartet is Rachael Stirling as Dahl’s fiancée, Felicity Crosland. Primarily a host, and making that ever clear in her treatment of their guests, Felicity is determined to press until a resolution can be made, and we witness her being the only person who can get Roald to shut up and listen- when Stirling attacks, Lithgow shrinks. Stirling plays the role with a disguised exasperation, and Rosenblatt’s writing is layered enough to have written a character who, through Stirling’s bitten lip, is aware of her fiancé's wrongs and eager to show him this, yet still cares for him and will defend him publicly if someone interferes with her sense of what is right, pleading to others for their empathy towards Roald as much as she is scolding him for a lack of cooperation. There’s a development to her characterisation that, despite often sidelined for those with stronger viewpoints, is intriguing and subtle.
We also catch glimpses of two of Dahl’s staff- his handyman Wally (Richard Hope, as a big friendly giant), and housekeeper Hallie (Tessa Bonham Jones, with a New Zealand twang)- who Rosenblatt utilises to provide us with some wider perspective of the issues at play. Wally seems like Dahl’s closest ally on the matter, eager to spur him not to be pushed around, and the “too nice” Hallie has a fascinating rapport with Dahl. It’s a delightful performance by Bonham Jones, who excels in her limited stage time with a reactive emotion perfectly enhanced on film by focusing close-ups, and the conclusion of her character’s arc is wholly, and grotesquely, unexpected.
Rosenblatt’s writing excels not only in character creation and development, but in the way it handles this difficult discussion. His writing is provocative and challenging, with each thread of this balanced argument stimulating new perspectives, and it's nearly certain that, when he wrote his scenes of intellectual debate, he had no idea how timely they would become, continuing to resonate confidently with their parallels to the modern world. Dark humour is cleverly utilised, and there’s also some light discussion of separating the art from the artist, which, through dialogue by both Tom and Jessie, Rosenblatt neatly integrates. His writing has a natural and conversational tone, and we can almost feel the cogs turning within each character’s brain.
After the interval, and following Stone’s gripping monologue, the change of tone is palpable- Dahl is dominating a group grown quiet, awkward and uncomfortable, yet his childish spite sees no reason not to keep on tugging and assert what he sees as victory. The discussion at the top of the second act is overly familiar and regular, and the way they jest about Israel and the Nazis is abnormal and concerning, returning us to a casual family sitcom, except it stings with violent undertones. Rosenblatt knows just how to craft the delicate balance of something authentic, disturbing, and absorbing.
However, it’s important to remember that this encounter is entirely imagined by Rosenblatt. That said, there are some moments where he neatly quotes Dahl’s actual words, from his book review and his later communication with the outside world. These are the verbatim glimpses we get into the true Roald Dahl, complex and unembellished, and they create the piece’s most impactful and unnerving moments, resonating powerfully within the play. The direction, by Nicholas Hytner, ensures each of these lands with its intended impact, and chillingly reminds the audience that, while the action may be fictional, the man and his feelings were not, and remain part of his legacy.
Hytner’s direction embraces the strength of Lithgow’s performance and Rosenblatt’s writing into a great collaboration, and, on film, this is brilliantly captured. The cinematography highlights Hytner’s symbolism, which sees a table centre stage allow for characters to physically, and noticeably, shrink- throughout Act One, the other characters dominate over a seated Jessie, who is gradually consumed and attacked by the trio of egos staring down at her, and it’s a particularly nice touch to see something similar happen to Roald later on, who is neglected to the side by a frustrated Felicity. Against Bob Crowley’s design of Roald’s mid-renovation home, the action is boxed in, and it feels like everything is exposed.
A play this thought-provoking deserves to be seen by as wide an audience as possible, and this capture helps to achieve that in a wonderfully executed manner. It accomplishes the optimum balance between screen and stage, allowing for enhanced perspectives of the performances while maintaining a theatrical feel, through frequent wide shots fixed on the centre-stage table, which transfer the feel of watching it from the live audience, with each glare captured as we see how each character reacts. Extreme close-ups are used sparingly and effectively to really command our focus in certain moments, concentrating the impact of a pen on a book, for example, and, as the play’s pace progresses, the filming becomes more dynamic to mirror it.
The live experience is replicated as closely as possible, with the capture seeming to highlight the audience’s reactions- you hear their shared laughter and experience it gradually depleting into something more diminished, with a discomfort that pulsates through the screen. Alexandra Faye Braithwaite’s sound design is also noteworthy for this, deliciously intensifying the atmosphere throughout the film- it begins with the background noise of building works, which seize pressure and build a stressful, all-consuming tension, before shifting to sharp bird noises, which, present in the awkward silences, possess a peace that harshly contrasts the action.
Giant is a theatrical sensation, and it is every bit as extraordinary on screen. Thought-provoking, fiery and darkly humorous, Rosenblatt’s writing is phenomenally nuanced, and the argument he presents is fascinating and balanced. In a capture that loses none of the play’s powerful theatricality, we are gripped, and every second is magnetic as the language captivates and controls us, with Rosenblatt’s characterisations intriguing and compelling. Lithgow helms a truly incredible cast with a Dahl who’s grotesque and malevolent, yet with a subtle emotional depth, and each passionate monologue is shockingly memorable. It’s an incredible piece of theatre that deserves to be viewed by as wide an audience as possible, and is a true BFG: breathtaking, forceful, and galvanising.
Giant is released in cinemas across the UK, USA, Canada, Australia, and select international territories from 19th November 2026. Check www.giantincinemas.com for locations and tickets.
Photos by Johan Persson