• Giant

5/8/26 (Fri), Broadway

Mark Rosenblatt’s play is set around the time of Israel’s incursion into Beirut in 1982. Roald Dahl, the British author of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory and Matilda fame, has made some extreme anti-Israel comments in a book review that border uncomfortably on anti-Semitism. (The real-life situation was even worse: it appears that editors of the actual review substituted “Israelis” for “Jews” in some cases to tone down the hate.) His UK and US publishers, both Jewish, are afraid that the ensuing brouhaha will affect sales of his new book, and the latter, the fictional Jessie Stone, who Dahl insists pointedly on calling “Stein”, has flown in from New York to convince him to retract, modify or apologize for the remarks. She objects to his blaming the entire Jewish people for the actions of a government over which they have no control.

Dahl, however, is unrepentant, insisting conversely that she apologize for the brutality of a regime that claims to represent the Jewish “race”. The UK publisher, a Holocaust survivor, considers himself more British than Jewish and tries to avoid conflict, only to be accused by Dahl of being a “house Jew”, while Dahl’s long-time girlfriend does her best to keep his temper in line. Dahl appears to become more sympathetic when he learns that the US publisher, like himself, has a mentally challenged child. But his nice side doesn’t last long, his hatred of the Jews (“Even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason” – a real-life quote) overwhelming even his feelings for his girlfriend in a horrific final-curtain betrayal.

The conversation occasionally dips into the polemic in their robust exchange of opinions, with dialogue that is rather too perfect. But each side gets a fair say: Dahl’s expresses his unadulterated disgust at the bombing of Beirut children, while the publisher points out that this is not an attack but a counterattack after hundreds of bombs lobbed at Israeli children. Eventually, however, Dahl’s obsessive loathing of the Jews drives away even his maid, who had tried to avoid getting involved, and would appear self-destructive as with most haters, certainly threatening his personal relationships.

Nevertheless, we know that his children’s books continued to sell (and still do) and that he continued to be lauded in polite society despite his open comments to the media. Even the US publisher says that she will go on reading his joyous books to her special-needs child. The question, as with the virulently anti-Semitic Wagner, is the extent to which we should consider the author’s personal quirks in judging his work. (Ironically, I’ve seen comments by some who refuse to see the show because of Lithgow’s upcoming appearance in a Harry Potter reboot, which he himself nearly quit due to a backlash over JK Rowling’s transgender views.) That is particularly relevant now at a time when the baying crowds have relentlessly attacked not only Israeli artists, from Eurovision and up, but Jewish fellow citizens. And we know where that leads.

The books themselves were in the news just a few years ago when over-sensitive editors published new editions that deleted references to weight and race. Dahl expressed regret at one point at characterizing the Oompah-Loompahs as African, suggesting that he is not beyond self-reflection. But not, apparently, when it comes to the Jews.

A bracing examination of a serious issue in an impressive debut by the playwright. John Lithgow, who looks uncannily like Dahl, dominates the stage in every scene with his towering frame (he is 193cm or 6’4”, which is actually slightly shorter than Dahl), ferocious defense of his views, and no apparent need to be liked, either by the people around him (“I don’t want to be conciliatory”) or, in the actor’s case, the audience. I’m curious why an American performer was cast in this British role – the production and the four principals were all imported from the London run – but no complaints at this level of acting. Lithgow won a well-deserved Olivier in London and should be able to match that with a Tony in NY. Elliot Levy as the UK publisher, so good in Good, was also top-rate in the play’s most difficult role, and Rachel Sterling was fine as the girlfriend. Aya Cash as the fictional US publisher was more stereotypical in her behavior, though that’s partly a function of the writing. I also enjoyed the rundown set reflecting a house under renovation, which gave the proceedings a nicely tawdry look. The play manages to entertain and provoke at the same time, no easy task. Highly recommended.