Movie Review: The BFG

Sweet and strange (but not quite as spunky as other Roald Dahl adaptations), Steven Spielberg's The BFG is kid-friendly cinema done right.

Where do dreams come from? Are there giants roaming faraway lands? Does the queen fart? These are the philosophical questions asked and answered in The BFG, an inquisitive if frivolous new family film from Steven Spielberg (a director/ producer whose recent record in this particular field is mixed).

Based on Roald Dahl's book of the same name, it sees lonely, plucky Sophie (Ruby Barnhill) snatched from her orphanage by a giant who caught her peeking at him during the 'witching hour'. (That’s 3am btw; prime Matchbox 20-spotting time too.)

Sophie is swept into 'giant country', where she fully expects to wind up in a stew. But after some smooth-talking, she softens the heart of her grizzled captor, who gives no name except for the one he hopes to earn: Big Friendly Giant (Mark Rylance, an Oscar-winner for Spielberg's Bridge of Spies).

Beyond their bonding sessions, and some excursions into the land of dreams (where the BFG harvests our nightly entertainment, for delivery every evening under cover of darkness), there's not much else to report, plot-wise. Sure, the BFG faces off against bullies and eventually recruits - stay with us here - Her Majesty Herself, played by Penelope Wilton (leading to the most regal fart joke in cinema history).

Mostly, however, The BFG is an old school Amblin production that seeks to astound and delight with its sumptuous settings and soulful CGI.

Rylance's motion-captured avatar is credible, though some basic interactions with Sophie, like him cradling her in his hand, still defy technological capabilities; it looks a little ‘cut and paste’. It helps, however, that late screenwriter Melissa Mathison, who brought E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial to the page, has grounded those special effects in two rich, endearing characters.

The score and cinematography are of a piece with the rest of Spielberg's oeuvre – and not just his family flicks, either. (Yes, John Williams' swelling strings feel warmly familiar, and yes, Barnhill stares off into the middle distance frequently enough to give DOP Janusz Kamiński a chance to capture the ‘Spielberg Face’.) The movie's visual highlight, funnily enough, reflects the opening wartime sequence from Saving Private Ryan - only with Giants and slapstick in the place of vomit-inducing disembowelments.

Much has been made of Spielberg adapting a book by noted anti-Semite Dahl, and despite the fact I'm always eager to tell people their fave is problematic, his explanation at the picture’s Cannes debut rings true: “This is a story about embracing our differences… The values in the book and in the film, those are the values I wanted to impart in the telling of this story.”

The BFG tells a warm, magical tale, intended to inspire wonder, introduce mythology and temper the tragedies of reality among little kids. (Wouldn’t it be nice to forever think that an end to loneliness, or emancipation from persecution, is just one phone call from the Queen away?)

Those who are grown might miss the danger, peril and malevolent weirdness of Dahl adaptations Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda and The Witches. Spielberg stays on brand - his own - by making The BFG into something more palatable for wider audiences. In this instance, we'll let it slide: it means there's a little extra loveliness to go around.

3.5/5

In cinemas June 30. Rated PG as some scenes may frighten young children.