Review: A Giant Among Plays, But Not Without Shadows 

Rosenblatt’s blistering new drama ignites the stage—and some uncomfortable conversations

★★★★☆

Mark Rosenblatt’s GIANT, winner of the 2025 Olivier Award for Best Play, is a thunderclap of theatre: raw, relentless, and searingly relevant. Starring the ever-commanding John Lithgow as Roald Dahl, the production delves deep into the mind of one of literature’s most beloved—and most polarizing—figures. The result is a bold, often disturbing examination of artistic legacy, personal prejudice, and how one man’s views can still echo, painfully, across decades.

At the heart of GIANT is Dahl’s 1983 book review of a children’s picture book set during the 1982 Lebanon/Israel War, a text that revealed his deeply problematic views on Jewish people and justified, in some respects, the antisemitism that had long haunted his public persona. The play unfolds in Dahl’s London home, mid-renovation—a symbolic backdrop for a man trying, and failing, to reconstruct his public image. Over the course of a tense day, he meets with his publishers from both London and New York, who implore him to issue a statement clarifying or recanting his comments. But Dahl, obstinate and unrepentant, refuses to back down, doubling down instead on his anti-Semitic views regarding Israel and Jewish people. Rosenblatt does not flinch. The writing is fierce, intellectual, and unnervingly honest, unafraid to grapple with the implications of Dahl’s words—particularly as the Middle East remains locked in new cycles of violence. The timing of this play’s arrival couldn’t be more charged, and its unflinching commitment to engaging with history, bigotry, and moral failure is part of what makes it so astonishing.

And then there’s John Lithgow.

Lithgow’s performance is nothing short of formidable. He embodies Dahl with a chilling complexity, never asking the audience to sympathize but daring us to understand. It’s the kind of performance that stays with you, that haunts the edges of your mind. And yet, therein lies the deeper friction. Lithgow’s recent decision to take on the role of Dumbledore in the forthcoming Harry Potter television adaptation has stirred up a maelstrom of controversy. It’s not just a casting choice—it’s a political stance, whether he acknowledges it or not. Supporting a franchise helmed by someone known for targeting the trans community sends a damaging and disappointing message, particularly coming from an actor who once portrayed trans characters with empathy and nuance. The hypocrisy cuts deep, and for many, including myself, it colors everything he does onstage or on screen now. It’s a betrayal, plain and simple.

The supporting cast is uniformly excellent, grounding the play in an emotional and moral reality that keeps Dahl’s intellectualized venom from swallowing the show whole. Elliott Levy brings a measured weariness to the role of Tom Maschler, Dahl’s longtime London publisher. Levy plays Maschler as a man caught in an impossible bind, trying to protect a literary brand while visibly wincing at the ideology behind it. His restraint is its own kind of heartbreak, and when Maschler finally reaches his limit, Levy lets the emotional weight land with a quiet, devastating blow.

But it’s Aya Cash, as Jessica Stone—Dahl’s New York editor—who delivers the most stunning performance of the night. Stone is Jewish, and while Dahl’s words rain down on her with increasing venom, Cash never once plays her as a victim. Her strength is electric. The scene where she directly confronts Dahl’s rhetoric, refusing to dilute her faith, her grief, or her fury, is one of the most gripping moments I’ve witnessed on a stage this year. She takes the horrible language being hurled at her and throws it back, not with vitriol, but with conviction, clarity, and control. Cash walks the line between deeply personal pain and professional obligation with incredible finesse. It’s a performance of moral fire—and for many in the audience, she becomes the heart of the play.

Beyond the ethical dissonance, the practicalities of attending GIANT also raise eyebrows. Outrageous ticket prices are nothing new in the West End, but GIANT is yet another glaring example of just how inaccessible theatre is becoming. With stalls seats selling for over £400 and the dress circle climbing above £200, it feels like the industry is sliding further into elitism. My own obstructed-view seat was relatively affordable, but when I inquired about a better view, the theatre wanted another £80 for the upgrade. Eighty pounds—for a view. It's a depressing reminder that, even as the play confronts the commodification of morality and history, the theatre industry continues to capitalize on exclusivity.

Still, GIANT is a titanic piece of writing. Rosenblatt hasn’t just staged a play—he’s cracked open a cultural wound. The parallels he draws between past and present, between antisemitism and the narratives we allow to persist, make this one of the most potent pieces of political theatre in years. The only show this year that’s matched its emotional gravity was The Years—and that’s saying something.

In the end, GIANT is a powerful work that forces us to question who we celebrate, why we excuse them, and at what cost. But while the play itself climbs great dramatic heights, the controversies swirling around its lead actor and the state of accessibility in theatre cast long shadows over its brilliance. It’s essential viewing—but don’t expect to leave without grappling with more than just what’s on stage.

Giant - Harold Pinter Theatre

Attended on 28 June 2025