The BFG by Roald DahlCaptured by a giant! The BFG is no ordinary bone-crunching giant. He is far too nice and jumbly. Its lucky for Sophie that he is. Had she been carried off in the middle of the night by the Bloodbottler, the Fleshlumpeater, the Bonecruncher, or any of the other giants-rather than the BFG-she would have soon become breakfast.
When Sophie hears that they are flush-bunking off in England to swollomp a few nice little chiddlers, she decides she must stop them once and for all. And the BFG is going to help her!
The BFG: The look, the language and the unlikely journey of Steven Spielberg's latest
Around the time when the big friendly giant of The BFG started talking about dreams, I felt myself succumbing to the dreaded creep of film festival screening sleep, my eyelids suddenly too heavy to hold up. Spielberg and his screenwriter, the late Melissa Mathison, have captured some of the quirky, grim whimsy of the beloved Roald Dahl novel the film is based on, but the movie lumbers along a bit plotlessly, struggling to capture any real emotional resonance beyond a general feeling of niceness. Rylance has turned crinkliness into a high art form, something the animators working on this film were careful to include when they rendered his face. Fun is a problem for this film, which plods mightily for the first hour or so, when we are introduced to a young orphan named Sophie the Mara Wilson -esque newcomer Ruby Barnhill who lives in a London orphanage until she is snatched by the giant and taken to Giant Country. The kidnapping aspect of this story—how insane and creepy that is! This stretch of the film is goofy and winning, livening up a trundling, kindly movie just before its sweet, poignant ending.
But then again, when are movies ever as dark or as weird as the Roald Dahl originals? Roald Dahl's novels have sharp edges that tend to get filed away when they're made into movies, seemingly out of a misguided idea that children can't handle a little darkness. On the pages of James and the Giant Peach , for instance, Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker get squashed to death by the titular peach as it rolls down the hill toward the sea; the main character in The Witches is never turned from a mouse back into a boy; and in The BFG , the title character's brethren go out every night and snatch people out of their beds to eat them. But that's largely heh abstracted from Steven Spielberg's new adaptation of Dahl's children's book. Dahl's BFG isn't just clear about the people-eating, it's filled with irresistibly groanworthy gags about how the natives of various countries taste — Turks are reminiscent of turkey, Swedes have a "Sweden sour taste," and everyone from Greece is safe on account of their greasy flavor. Spielberg's movie vaguely suggests the whole human-hunting thing is a recent development for giants and arranges for the bulk of them to ultimately regret their "cannybull" ways. Honest question: If a giant's clearly not human, is that accusation fair?
It is an expansion of a short story from Dahl's book Danny, the Champion of the World. The book is dedicated to Dahl's late daughter, Olivia, who died of measles encephalitis at the age of seven in It has also been adapted as a theatre performance. The book starts with a young girl named Sophie lying in bed in an orphanage after her parents died in a car accident. She can't sleep, and sees a strange sight in the street; a giant man, carrying a bag and an odd trumpet. He sees Sophie, who tries to hide in bed, but the giant picks her up through the window. Then he runs incredibly fast to a large cave , which he enters.
A few years ago, I agreed to take my young daughter to her first comic book convention. Actually, she wanted us both to go in costume. She debated her ideas for a few days: Should we be Batman and Batgirl? Harry and Hermione? Doc and Marty? So, if you want us to go in costume, you have to pick something that you truly love.