Review: Giant

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Author Roald Dahl wrote some of the most beloved children's novels. He created the classic characters of Matilda, Charlie Bucket, and the Big Friendly Giant, among others. All of these characters are kind and endearing, qualities that could not be further removed from the man who created them. In Giant, playwright Mark Rosenblatt explores Dahl’s complex legacy as both the author of so many beloved children’s books and a raging antisemite.

The cast of Giant

The difference between Giant and other plays that wrestle with the prejudices of historical figures is that Giant does not have to take a stance on the “was he or wasn’t he” conundrum. Dahl’s views are certain, and the audience can tell from the beginning. In Dahl’s case, the play uses two sources of concrete proof to confirm his antisemitism: a review in which Dahl praised God Cried, a book condemning the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, and a hateful interview he gave to journalist Michael Coren. Surrounding those two primary sources are imaginary conversations between Dahl (John Lithgow), his fiancée Felicity “Liccie” Crosland (Rachael Stirling), his publisher Tom Maschler (Elliot Levey), and fictional American publishing executive Jessie Stone (Aya Cash) over one afternoon at Dahl's home in Buckinghamshire.

The play starts slowly, but as soon as Stone arrives, the mood takes a drastic shift. “Are you Jewish?” asks Dahl in his self-described blunt manner. What then ensues is an increasingly heated debate that, in time, pits each character against the others.

The first act is tight, exciting, and dramatic. Dahl and Stone go back and forth, mediated by Tom and Liccie, who both grow increasingly frustrated with the unwavering author. After intermission, the play stalls a bit, inching ever so slowly towards the inevitable conclusion that, whether they can bear to think it or not, the audience knows is coming. The play is a slow burn, but it’s Rosenblatt’s writing and the gripping performances that keep the audience enthralled.

John Lithgow plays Roald Dahl

Lithgow, of course, is a force as Roald Dahl. Not only does he bear such a physical resemblance to the author, but his mannerisms show just how deeply Lithgow understands Dahl’s complex character. The 80-year-old Tony winner’s performance truly captures both sides of the man: one second, he can be quiet and sweet before turning into a booming giant, literally towering over everyone else on stage. That is his power: he truly makes you like the writer.

Each character is crafted so well in this play that every conversation feels like it could have actually taken place. In a way, every single character is torn between their reverence for the author and the duty to say what needs to be said. This, of course, is easier for some people than others. Aya Cash plays Jessie Stone, the only main cast member in a fictional role. It is the fierce defense of her Jewish heritage and her defense of Israel that fuels the play’s conflict, and she handles it flawlessly. She, too, struggles with her son’s love of Dahl’s books (she brings one for him to sign) and the author’s hatred towards a large part of her identity.

The other character struggling with his affection for Dahl, though in a different sense, is Tom. As his publisher, he is interested in Dahl from an economic standpoint and knows just how catastrophic the fallout from the book review could be. Tom is a fascinating character. He is Jewish, yet he identifies more strongly with his Britishness than with his Jewish identity, which is what leads him to take Dahl’s side for the better part of the play. He does not see himself as one of the “them” that Dahl is attacking, and it is not until the author directly insults Tom that he sees Dahl as the monster he is. A similar shift occurs with Dahl’s maid, Hallie (Stella Everett), who also loses her admiration and eventually disappears, perhaps suggesting to the audience that she quit her job in protest.

Giant at the Music Box

Each character is incredibly nuanced and real, but perhaps none more than Liccie. From the start, the audience can see just how much she loves Dahl and how much he loves her, and that love is unwavering throughout, even as she tries to pull him back from the edge. At the beginning of the play, she asks if they can wait to get married until after the controversy over the article blows over, but in the very last moment of the play, she asks to move the date up. She says that they should “get married in the autumn,” raising the age-old question of how love for a person can make you blind to their faults, however large. Liccie is not blind, per se, but by the end, it is clear that her love is willing to see past his hateful prejudices. It’s profound, it’s terrifying, and it’s all just too human.

The same question is raised about art all the time: can we as a society separate the artist from their work? That’s where Rosenblatt knows he hits the heart of the story. It is the audience’s unwillingness to let go of the magic that Dahl’s books have brought them or their children that makes us squirm with guilt on the inside, rather than allowing us to separate the ideas. At the end of the play, when Dahl has his interview with Coren, which is quoted verbatim, the audience sees him say, out loud and unapologetically, that he is an antisemite, a horrifying yet fitting acknowledgment for someone of Dahl’s character.

“Can you no longer read my books to dear Archie?” Dahl asks Jessie about her son. “If it’s in me, then it’s surely in the books too.” Can we, as people now fully aware of his hatreds, knowingly read his works and still find the same magic as before? Probably not. But can we still appreciate them for the literary wonders they are? I hope so.

4/5 stars

2 hours and 20 minutes, one intermission

Music Box Theatre

Through June 28, 2026