Giant - Review

Harold Pinter Theatre, London

***

Written by Mark Rosenblatt

Directed by Nicholas Hytner

John Lithgow

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Back in October 2024, when Giant premiered at the Royal Court, this website declared John Lithgow a likely Olivier contender for his world-class interpretation of Roald Dahl, in Mark Rosenblatt’s new play. And so it was that the Olivier award came to pass, together with numerous other gongs that have been bestowed upon this production. And while Giant's cast were impressive at the Court, they are equally impressive in the West End with all the key players remaining  other than Romola Garai who is stunningly replaced by Aya Cash in the role of Dahl’s American publisher, Jessie Stone.

While the production values remain exquisite and the acting world class and Rosenblatt’s words still pack a tightly constructed 2+ hours, the quality of the drama that he has created remains highly-debatable. As this website set out last year, Giant lacks a base objectivity. 

Rosenblatt (and Hytner?) rightly highlight Dahl’s vicious antisemitism and the evil of his appalling conflation of Israel’s actions as being the ultimate responsibility of the entire Jewish people. But for all that signalled virtue, there remains a failure to effectively posit or argue any explanation whatsoever (save for a brief passing nod by Stone in act one) for Israel’s military actions, with the play remaining an unbalanced soapbox for anti-Israel tropes. And from there it becomes all too easy for audiences to take the writer's evident Israel-sceptic stance and translate his comments, drawn from a 1982 conflict between Israel and Lebanon, onto a critique of today's current military action in Gaza.

Giant offers quite possibly the finest acting in town, matched only by a premise that is as deeply flawed.

Runs until 2nd August

Photo credit: Johan Persson

The Years - Review

Harold Pinter Theatre, London

***

Based on Les Années by Annie Ernaux

Adapted and directed by Eline Arbo

Romola Garai

There are moments in The Years that make for some of the finest drama to be found in London. Annie Ernaux’s autobiographical writings, translated here from the French by Eline Arbo who also directs, offer a vivid glimpse into a womanhood spanning from the 1940s through to the early years of the 21st century.

Five women, who all opened the play last year at the Almeida prior to this West End transfer, capture Ernaux through the decades, and all with sublime performances. Seamlessly, the quintet also perform all the play’s supporting roles.

At its best The Years delivers the Nobel-winning Ernaux’s depictions of her own emotional and sexual development. From the highs of the excitement at the discovery of the secret adolescent thrills of masturbation, through to the depths of fumbled painful humiliation experienced during her teenage defloration, (credit to Anjli Mohindra for playing those chapters). The pain is worsened as Romola Garai plays out the backstreet abortion that Ernaux chose to undergo in her twenties. It is a credit to Garai that with nothing more than her outstanding acting skills and a judicious amount of stage blood - but no nudity whatsoever nor any other props or special effects - that her portrayal of such an horrific event is delivered with such harrowing impact.

Gina McKee picks up the emancipated Ernaux in in her fifties, having separated from her husband and enjoying not only parenthood but the joys of passionate sexual liaisons. Again - fine sensitive work from McKee. Deborah Findlay plays the writer’s endgame with equal perception and wisdom. A nod too to Harmony Rose-Bremner who takes up another of the author’s youthful personages.

Aside from speaking of her feminine evolution, Ernaux also offers historical comment on the world’s global and political evolution through the years. Her historical analysis however is crass, barely getting beyond schoolyard Marxism such is her bias. Billy Joel’s song We Didn’t Start The Fire achieves more accurate historical context in five minutes than Ernaux and Arbo can muster over nigh-on two hours with no interval.

Technically, the night of this review was a disaster blighted by not one, but two show-stops. The first was understandable with an audience member who having fainted at Garolai’s depiction of the aforementioned abortion, required assistance in leaving the auditorium. The second however was an inexcusable and appalling fault of the sound system. With tickets selling at close to £200 a pop, paying punters are entitled to expect flawless technical standards at a West End show.

The Years is a curate's egg, albeit brilliantly acted, that is 30-minutes too long. 

Runs until 19th April

Photo credit: Helen Murray

Giant - Review

Royal Court Theatre, London

***

Written by Mark Rosenblatt

Directed by Nicholas Hytner

John Lithgow

Set in a bucolic summer’s afternoon in Buckinghamshire in 1983, amidst the drilling and banging of a country residence that’s being lovingly restored, Giant is a drama loosely based on facts, about the antisemitic views and writings of that hero of children’s literature, Roald Dahl.

Bearing a striking resemblance to how we recall Dahl from his appearances in the media, with perhaps a nod to JR Hartley too, John Lithgow makes his Royal Court debut as the author. His foils across the lunch table are real life publisher Tom Maschler (played by Elliot Levey) and the fictional Jessie Stone (Romola Garai), an agent from Dahl’s US publishing company. Dahl has recently published a book review, widely seen as antisemitic, and the two publishing professionals are there, over glasses of Chablis, to coax him into drafting an apology.

Mark Rosenblatt’s drama is tightly written. In what feels like a slightly overlong 2hrs 20mins, the pace never falters, with Rosenblatt’s dialogue proving well-structured and his characters, credible. Garai and Rachael Stirling, as Dahl’s Mitford-like fiancée Felicity Crosland are both outstanding. Levey plays a recognisably luke-warm diaspora Jew, not too bothered by Dahl’s pronouncements and more concerned with trying to smooth things over at all costs. Of the three supporting characters, his is perhaps the least compelling.

Lithgow’s work however is tremendous - and under the direction of Nicholas Hytner, turns in an Olivier-worthy performance.

But other than some smug references to Ian McEwan and the literary world of that time, ultimately what is the point of this play other than to provide a platform for Dahl’s rabid ravings? Giant drips with Dahl’s criticism of Israel (the 1982 Lebanon War was raging), with clear echoes of criticisms that have been levelled at the Jewish state in more recent times during the Gaza conflict. Unsurprisingly for the Royal Court there is little offered by way of challenge to Israel’s actions, although it ultimately has to prove some comfort that Dahl’s rants against Israel are coming from the same mind and mouth that throughout the play utter the vilest antisemitic slurs. There remains of course the sad but realistic possibility that much of that irony may have soared over the heads of many of the Royal Court’s audience.

That this is brilliantly crafted theatre is unquestionable. That it also provides a soapbox for countless tropes makes for an evening that is ultimately deeply unsatisfying.

Runs until 16th November

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan