Giant - West End Review

★★★★★

Giant, starring John Lithgow at the Harold Pinter Theatre, is a fly-on-the-wall play that takes a look behind closed doors at one of Britain's most famed writers, Roald Dahl. Naturalistic theatre demands a stage full of interesting and complex characters to keep an audience's attention, so how has Giant achieved the status of being the best observational drama I’ve ever seen? What is it that keeps the audience eavesdropping on this private showdown?

John Lithgow as Roald Dahl

Set in 1983, the children’s author Roald Dahl is the focus of an urgent intervention at his Buckinghamshire home after publishing a controversial critique of Israel in Literary Review. Dahl faces a showdown with his Jewish publishers, Tom Maschler and a US representative, who initially try to help him for the sake of his upcoming book, The Witches, but ultimately demand an apology. What follows is a terse, two-hour verbal duel that lays bare Dahl’s charm, his prejudice, and his refusal to back down.

John Lithgow is nothing short of mesmerising as Dahl. One moment, he’s a warm, mischievous, child-loving grandfather; the next, a hard-nosed bigot. Lithgow’s performance is magnetically manipulative. When Dahl gets the chance to apologise, he doubles down, and that refusal fuels the tension. His masterful use of voice, physicality and tension proves him to be the perfect casting for this role. It’s a masterclass in performance that holds you in its grip.

Elliot Levey as Tom Maschler, Rachael Stirling as Felicity, and John Lithgow as Roald Dahl.

Mark Rosenblatt’s script and Nicholas Hytner’s staging feel chillingly timely. The play navigates the complex interplay between free speech, prejudice, and accountability, echoing today’s debates surrounding Israel, Palestine, and public figures. It makes you think: how easily do we excuse hateful views under the guise of political critique? It’s crazy that Rosenblatt’s debut theatre script is this powerful; he’s a natural writer! 

Aya Cash (as the US publisher) makes her mark, bringing a fiery energy to the stage. Her plea for civility feels like a reminder of how challenging it is to remain silent in the face of offensive remarks. But it’s her attempted takedown of Dahl at the end of Act One that really lingers—a chilling moment where you could feel her personal hurt spilling out. Cash is fantastic here; she completely owns the role, showing both the vulnerability of someone deeply wounded and the fire of someone unafraid to stand their ground. It’s a layered, heartfelt performance that pulls you right in.

Aya Cash as the US Publisher and John Lithgow as Roald Dahl.

Elliot Levey is an absolute joy to watch in Giant. He brings a wonderfully dry wit to the role, delivering his lines with a sharpness that never fails to land. The way he sucks up to Dahl is fascinating (equal parts amusing and a little unsettling) as he balances charm with an underlying calculation. What really makes his performance stand out, though, are the moments when that mask slips. When the façade fades and we see the real person beneath, it feels so natural and unforced.

Rachael Stirling is grounded as Felicity, Dahl’s fiancée. Her silent fury resonates deeply. Richard Hope, as the gardener, adds a brief but poignant glimpse into Dahl’s world, though his character’s purpose remains a minor puzzle. Tessa Bonham Jones, the New Zealand housemaid, offers perhaps the most affecting arc. In Act Two, her visible disgust and unwillingness to forgive Dahl reflect an honest generational divide between young and older responses to offensive speech.

The set, lighting, and sound are minimal yet effective. Bob Crowley’s half-renovated kitchen—complete with plastic sheeting and exposed walls- gives a realistic playground to the actors. Lighting remains natural, never overstated, letting the words and performances command attention. This stripped-back realism draws the audience closer into the unfolding moral confrontation.

I did wonder about the use of Richard Hope’s character. His presence hints at another side of Dahl but never quite shifts the focus. His brief appearance feels a little shoe-horned in, reminding Dahl of the war. But these are minor notes in a character-led piece of this calibre—every actor, every line, anchors the story in human complexity.

This is character exploration at its finest, a play that challenges your admiration, confronts your empathy, and keeps you hooked through its moral ambiguity. It’s no wonder that Giant is now the most expensive ticket in the West End (soon to be overshadowed only by Evita), setting the stage for questions about whether high-end theatre remains “for everyone.”

But if you love theatre that puts you in the room, arguing, bristling, questioning, you need to see Giant. Tickets may be weighty, but the experience is unforgettable and worth every penny.