In the summer of 1983, at Roald Dahl’s dining room table, he and his publisher gathered to publicly apologize. A book review sparked a storm of criticism in which Dahl believed all Jews were personally responsible for Israel’s military action in Beirut, and (John Lithgow plays Dahl in this shocking, intense new play) the two Jews have a voluminous (and sometimes friendly) conversation with the author, receiving feedback via sherbet.
The lunch was fictional; Dahl’s comments were factual – “Never has a race aroused so much sympathy throughout the world,” he wrote, “and then, in its lifetime, succeeded in turning that sympathy into hatred and loathing.” Afterwards, he called reporters and publicly stated (which was true) that though he had long been anti-Israel, he had now “become an anti-Semite” because “he did not even choose to be like Hitler. That’s a very bad thing.” He has no excuse. “Sitting in a box at London’s Royal Court Theater and listening to this, I was stunned. Partly because of the casual, petty hatred, and partly because the word “stinky” is so Dahl-esque that it brings to mind all of his dirty fun in the story – you are faced with the thorny problem of separating artists from their art.
One thing worth noting about Giant, which debuted this week (the week of the Israeli attack on the city of Beirut), is that Mark Rosenblatt began writing the book in 2018. Yet it feels surprisingly unscientific and even worryingly practical. Rosenblatt said that while he was writing the play, he and his wife discussed its themes. “Since October 7, as the suffering and brutality of the situation has grown, the conversations in the kitchen have inevitably grown,” he told me. “Dismayed by the loss of life, the brutality and barbarity, and by the often unchecked, often medieval prejudice against Jews and Palestinians expressed online.”
He said the subject matter “offended” him because “with Dahl, I write both critically and affectionately. This is a man I read as a child, who helped shape my imagination and who I now enjoy teaching my children. Yet he is a man who, in his own way, hates the state, people like me, so to write about him, or any version of him, is to constantly confuse these two truths and as far as the process of writing about the politics surrounding Israel and Palestine is concerned, with the utmost honesty and rigor, I’m very much in the process of writing about each character’s politics, digging deep and doing whatever it takes to make their situations real and honest and authentic, to find out what I can, but in doing so, you tragically miss people’s deepest, deepest feelings. How terrifyingly incoherent the truth is.”
In addition to debates about Israel, the show also takes a closer look at Judaism and “problematic” genius at the dinner table. John Lithgow told me, “For artists, I would elaborate on the Hippocratic oath: ‘Do no harm, do no sin.'” “But beyond that, I’ve always been in favor of uncensored art. Everyone, regardless of artists, should live without any restrictions. A lot of great art has been made by scoundrels and a lot of bad art has been made by saints. It’s up to us to like or dislike art without judging it for our own benefit or harm,” he said, pointing to Dahl’s publishers’ recent removal of language deemed offensive from his books. “They should never touch Roald Dahl’s prose, because they’re overprotective.
Lithgow plays Dahl, a gentleman who rises from his chair and stands in front of his guests. Despite his brashness, he is also generous and kind – and the show is full of funny nuances. He said, “Playing contradictory characters is the most fun and my bread and butter. After all, I’m in the business of surprising people,” and, “There is no one more contradictory or surprising than Roald Dahl.”
As the first issue ended, I found myself counting the Jews in the darkened theater. I do it sometimes—lately, I do it more often. The UK has a population of less than 300,000, and while we currently have a lot in common (a nagging sense of grief, a sense that we are being scrutinized, an essay on soup), I also know that our differences in life issues are growing.
That’s why I’m really nervous writing this – it’s an uncomfortable time to be Jewish, especially when you discover a story about Israel that is so central to your Jewish identity, such as when anti-Semitism is on the rise. Earlier this year, amid calls for a ban on anti-war marches over anti-Semitism fears, the government’s anti-extremism commissioner warned that London “could become a no-entry zone for Jews every weekend”. A range of commentators loudly declared that the city was a dangerous place for Jews, creating fear and forcing us to close in. They’re fuelling a very real issue – post-7 October Britain. In 2010, the number of anti-Semitic incidents increased by 589%, but in doing so the wounds were deepened and divisions increased. What’s needed now is not authoritarian bans on protest or the dehumanisation of others, but education, calm dialogue and bravery. Recalling the lunch in 1983, Rosenblatt did it beautifully and courageously.
When the actors rehearse they worry about the audience’s reaction. “The current conversation on anti-Semitism and the Israel-Palestine issue is subtle, sensitive, complex and highly emotional. We don’t know how people will react or whether people will be able to listen to Rosenblum given the intensity of the moment.” Rutter reviews, posted overnight, were excellent, expressing surprise at its “subtlety,” “nuance” and “complexity,” but noting more the ambiguity that arises from being able to connect the audience with different perspectives and avoid binary judgments based on conflicting facts. Happily, although in real life we can’t always achieve it, in some theaters this kind of thing is possible.
