Laughing until it stops being funny.
There are very few plays that can have an audience laughing one moment and sitting in complete, uncomfortable silence the next. Giant manages it with astonishing confidence.
Filmed during its West End run and arriving in cinemas on 19 November, Nicholas Hytner’s production of Mark Rosenblatt’s Olivier Award-winning play tackles one of the most divisive and difficult subjects imaginable: the lasting impact of antisemitism, the responsibility that comes with public influence, and what happens when somebody simply refuses to admit they might be wrong.
At the centre of it all is Roald Dahl.
Or rather, the version of Dahl presented here, played with extraordinary charisma by John Lithgow. It’s a performance that constantly wrongfoots the audience. Lithgow makes Dahl funny, warm, charming and deeply engaging. Even when other characters are actively challenging his views, there’s a nagging voice in the back of your mind asking whether perhaps he’s about to reveal a deeper truth that everyone else has missed.
Then he’ll say something that makes your stomach drop.
That’s what makes the performance so impressive. Dahl is never reduced to a pantomime villain, but neither is he excused. Lithgow walks an incredibly delicate tightrope, forcing the audience to grapple with the uncomfortable reality that harmful views rarely come wrapped in obvious monstrosity.
The play unfolds over a single afternoon in 1983, after public outrage erupts following comments Dahl made about Israel and Jewish people within his published book review. His fiancée Felicity, publisher Tom Maschler and American publisher Jessie Stone all attempt, in different ways, to make him understand why his words have caused such hurt and concern.
Elliot Levey is excellent as Maschler, wrestling with the impossible task of challenging a man he clearly admires. Rachael Stirling brings warmth and quiet frustration to Felicity, while Romola Garai delivers some of the production’s sharpest moments as Jessie Stone, refusing to let Dahl dodge the consequences of his rhetoric. Richard Hope’s appearance as gardener Wally Saunders provides another fascinating perspective, representing a loyalty that survives even as everyone else begins to question the man they thought they knew and loved.
What struck me most was how modern the entire debate feels. Although the play is rooted firmly in the early 1980s, so many of the arguments echo conversations happening today. Questions about free speech, accountability, public image and generational attitudes are woven throughout without ever feeling forced.
That generational clash is present in the production’s design too. Bob Crowley’s set presents Dahl’s home as somewhere caught mid-renovation, with large sections draped in plastic sheeting while the sounds of building work rumble beyond the walls. It’s a simple but effective visual metaphor. Dahl’s house is unfinished and in transition, just as his public image, relationships and legacy seem to be shifting beneath his feet.
The first half is surprisingly funny. Dahl’s wit and force of personality make him endlessly entertaining company. But as the play progresses, the laughs become fewer and the pauses become longer. An atmosphere of unease slowly settles over the room as the audience begins to wonder whether the version of Dahl they’ve been enjoying spending time with is actually the villain of the story after all.
The brilliance of Giant is that it may not completely answer that question for you..
Instead, it presents a deeply flawed human being and asks the audience to wrestle with the implications. The play never asks us to excuse Dahl, but it does ask us to examine him. Even as the credits rolled, I found myself questioning his final, disturbing lines. Did he truly believe every word, or had he reached the point where being challenged only pushed him further towards saying the most inflammatory thing possible?
The play never asks us to excuse Dahl, but it repeatedly demonstrates how easily charm, intellect and conviction can distract us from confronting the damage caused by his words.
In lesser hands, a play centred on such contentious subject matter could easily become simplistic or preachy. Rosenblatt’s script and Hytner’s direction are far smarter than that. They allow space for complexity without losing sight of the real harm being discussed.
The result is an intelligent, provocative and often deeply uncomfortable piece of theatre that lingers long after the credits roll.
Whether seen live or on screen, Giant feels like essential viewing.
Giant is screened in cinemas from 19 November 2026.