(seen at the second preview performance, 30th June 2025)
For a child who started off on Enid Blyton, Thomas Hughes, beloved Pamela Brown and E Nesbit, moving on to Gene Kemp and Betsy Byars, more modern children’s and young adult fiction is a little different to the monkey. Mostly less challenging intellectually, shorter, with a feeling that it has been artificially constructed to meet some kind of content checklist.
This adaptation of Malorie Blackman’s 2001 book feels very much one of its genre.
Dominic Cooke fails the “Boublil and Schoenberg” test by not delivering a fast-moving condensed stage work from the original text, and builds to a predictable squib of a climax.
Unfortunately, director Tinuke Craig goes on to compound the error, delivering a grossly over-staged, pedestrian evening devoid of surprises. Befitting the book’s turn-of-our-century origins, she drags out the ancient “actors as spectators” trope, probably to populate with life the vast (and fairly ugly) Colin Richmond industrial steel and tiles set.
In a far smaller venue, we may feel more for the characters, focussing more clearly on the intimate moments. As it is, the piece only really works in the big sequences – all departments managing one explosive incident rather well.
Performances are also decent enough. Corinna Brown is a ‘90s kids’ TV drama’ bouncing Sephy, likeable as a teenager, not really making the transition to adulthood later on.
Noah Valentine is slightly stronger, at least catching the grouch of Callum, learning from his environment the shape he must adopt to survive.
It says a lot that Emma-Jane Goodwin as maid Sarah Pike is the strongest performer. Not even a lead role, her key scene delivers one of the few well-timed moments of humour hidden within the relentlessly worthy grit.
This approach explains the stiffness of Amanda Bright (Jasmine), Habib Nasib Nader (Kamal) and Jessica Layde (Minerva). Deputy Prime Minister’s family they may be, but adherence to some protocol (perhaps adopted from the book’s text) seemed to deny the actors the ability to let us into their innermost thoughts.
Helena Pipe does rather better as a TV reporter. Slightly hapless but able to communicate. Likewise Wela Mbusi is a convincing teacher and Governor.
Chanel Waddock and Kate Kordel as tragic daughter and mother Lynette and Meggie suffer the usual issue in this play of under-written characters and what should be key moments shortened inexplicably in favour of unnecessarily lengthy scene-setting interactions.
The whole feels as if written by A.I. Every situation unfolds as expected, and not a single issue feels either fresh or even as if it always relates to the rest of the plot. No human check or balance on the flow seems to have been applied to round out scenes or roughen argumentative edges to abrade good questions.
There are no satisfying conclusions drawn here; an interesting precept is explored with all the intellectual thoroughness of a Glastonbury rapper.
It will no doubt whatsoever delight its target audience, but for those who know nothing of the work and who seek thrilling, deeply satisfying insight into prejudice in all its forms, “Giant” is the only rigorous examination of the topic in town. Sell at least one kidney to see that, and save your money on this.
