Imagine a beloved children's story twisted into a theatrical experiment that leaves you wondering if the magic has fizzled out—welcome to the RSC's take on The BFG, where big dreams meet bigger disappointments.
The Royal Shakespeare Company owes its name to its legendary playwright, William Shakespeare, but let's be honest, it's Roald Dahl who's been their financial lifeline lately. Ever since the smash success of Matilda: The Musical hit the stage in Stratford-upon-Avon back in 2010—a show that not only dazzled audiences but also poured money into the company's coffers—Dahl's imaginative worlds have kept the lights on, allowing them to keep staging those classic Shakespeare productions. Now, with the RSC facing tough budget cuts and workforce reductions in 2025, they've turned to adapting Dahl's 1982 novel The BFG as a Christmas treat, hoping it will be the blockbuster hit to stabilize their finances.
But here's where it gets controversial: while Matilda shone as a bold, confident comedy musical, The BFG comes across as a stylistic patchwork, clumsily blending elements that don't quite gel. Penned by Tom Wells and enhanced with contributions from dramaturg Jenny Worton, the production mixes spoken-word drama in a style reminiscent of Sue Townsend's The Queen and I. Picture this: a fictionalized Queen Elizabeth II, charmingly portrayed by Helena Lymbery, teaming up with child superheroes to rescue the nation—it's whimsical and heartfelt, but feels a bit like a detour from the main tale.
Then there's the puppet ballet segment, masterminded by mannequin designer and director Toby Olié, where giants and "human beans" (a Dahl-ism for people) dance to instrumental tunes without any singing. Coming fresh from the sing-along joy of Matilda, I couldn't help but expect the characters to burst into song; lines like "dream big" practically beg for a musical number, and you can almost hum the melody yourself.
Visually, the show delights in playing with scale—a kind of Gulliver's Travels-esque to-and-fro that flips perspectives on a dime. Sometimes, the 12-foot-tall mechanical BFG, voiced and puppeted with care, dwarfs the human girl Sophie (played by Ellemie Shivers on press night), while at other times, actor John Leader, embodying the giant, looms over a pint-sized puppet Sophie. And this is the part most people miss: there's no clear rhyme or reason to when characters switch from giant to tiny, or from live actors to fabric puppets—it seems dictated more by the whims of the previous scene than any logical storytelling choice, which can leave audiences scratching their heads.
Dahl's books sparked a heated debate in 2023 when publishers like Puffin released censored versions, stripping out outdated language and attitudes deemed offensive, such as references to race or stereotypes (for beginners, this means removing parts that might hurt or exclude people today, like insensitive portrayals of different cultures). After public outcry, the original "legacy" editions were kept alongside the "sanitised" ones in what became the Roald Dahl Classic Collection, giving theaters like the RSC a choice of texts to adapt. Fans who grew up with the edited books might find Wells and Worton's version more familiar, as they've removed bits like the giants' descriptions of how people from various countries taste to them. Dahl's darkly humorous edge—think his knack for blending the grotesque with the innocent—is what makes his stories unforgettable, and toning that down risks leaving the production bland and lacking that signature bite. Is this censorship a step forward for inclusivity, or does it rob classics of their raw, unfiltered charm? It's a debate that's divided readers and parents alike.
The cast delivers stellar performances under RSC co-head Daniel Evans's direction, but with the BFG and the villainous giant Fleshlumpeater split across actors, puppets, and onstage puppeteers, the characters can feel fragmented—almost like they're fighting for attention. Compare that to Paddington: The Musical, which skillfully weaves live acting, animatronics, and offstage voices into a seamless whole, and you see how The BFG falls a bit short in coherence.
In today's challenging theater landscape, where funding is a constant battle, The BFG is a joint venture with Chichester Festival Theatre and Singapore Repertory Theatre, highlighting the collaborative efforts needed to bring such productions to life. Audiences will undoubtedly have a good time with its playful spirit and inventive visuals, and it does showcase glimpses of the RSC's creative prowess. Yet, for a company in dire straits, this adaptation sadly lacks the giant-sized impact on box offices that they so desperately need.
What do you think—should theaters stick to the original Dahl texts for authenticity, or embrace changes for a more modern audience? Do adaptations like this one do justice to the source material, or is it time to rethink how we handle controversial classics? Share your thoughts in the comments—I'm curious to hear your take!
