John Lithgow Is Diving Into the Israel-Palestine Conflict, Through the Eyes of Roald Dahl

It is rare, in the commercial theatre, for artists to intentionally step on cultural landmines.

Theatre can be boundary pushing, of course, but the common adage of “squabbles sell, controversies close” has, more often than not, been proven in the for-profit theatre industry. For playwright Mark Rosenblatt and two-time Tony winner John Lithgow, the play Giant is decidedly worth it.

“The lack of meaningful political debate around the very complex issues entangled with Israel and Palestine weighed on me,” Rosenblatt shares, thinking back to the initial impetus for Giant: In 2018, an investigation identified structurally embedded antisemitism in Britain’s Labour Party. The party’s inability to address the Israel-Palestine conflict without devolving into either antisemitism or Islamophobia horrified Rosenblatt, while simultaneously reminding him of a controversy he had heard whispers of years prior.

“I remembered that Roald Dahl, a man whose books I had absolutely loved growing up, had been accused of antisemitism. And so, I tracked down the book review that was the source of the accusation,” Rosenblatt explains. “That review became the inciting incident of Giant, in a way I hadn't expected.”

On its face, the Olivier-winning play is rather traditional: Set in a single afternoon in the summer of 1983, the piece invites audiences into Roald Dahl’s home in the English countryside, shortly before his book The Witches is to be published. Then, the picturesque tableau devolves. In the midst of his professional commitments (and a home renovation), Dahl is confronted by the impact of his review of Catherine Leroy and Tony Clifton's book God Cried, which documented the Israeli siege and bombing of Beirut. 

Dahl’s review, which was inspired by his ardent respect for the Palestinian people following his time in the region during World War II, was deeply critical of Israel and its people. That criticism led to a public outcry that threatened to shatter his legacy, forcing Dahl to make a choice: deliver a public apology, or risk his name and reputation. Explains Rosenblatt: “He really is a very perfect mirror for the blurring of heartfelt language and genuine political engagement, with very explicit racism and hate speech. Everything we’re seeing in our world today came to a head when he published that review.”

What was initially conceptualized as a period piece became extremely relevant after the events of October 7, when Hamas attacked Southern Israel. "The version of the play you see today was finalized in a workshop more than a month before October 7," Lithgow states. "This was not written in reaction, and Mark has not changed a single word. But it is somewhat extraordinary how it transformed into a different play for audiences, with that external context." 

As the Gaza War has continued to ravage the region, there were concerns about the piece becoming a powder keg. Lithgow shares that "on October 8, l emailed both Nick and Mark going, 'Oh my god. Can we continue with this? This is now a white-hot subject. Do we even touch it?' And both of them said, 'Be patient. This is exactly the time this play should be done.' We anticipated a lot of anger, a lot of demonstrations, a lot of protest, but there was none of that in the U.K."

Adds Rosenblatt, rolling his shoulder back, and drumming his fingers against his desk. "My intention was never to make some kind of political King Solomon assessment of the situation. As a writer, it is not my job to decide for the audience what is right or wrong. My job was to give voice to a nuanced, complex conversation from a wide spectrum of thought, and not to tell the audience what to think, but to give them space to think. We're living in a time where small sound bites are being thrown at each other like grenades, and we're all flinching away from major, meaningful conversations."

Chimes in Lithgow: "The play gives such strong, passionate, and articulate arguments on both sides of this issue, not just Israelis versus Palestinians, but American and English Jews. It is a fascinating subject, and I can't think of another play that's dealt with that divide so clearly on stage. All of these things suddenly become the subject of feverish conversations right after you've seen the play, people are pouring out of the theatre talking. It's really quite something to behold."

As depicted in Giant, Dahl is an enormously difficult character to play. Cruel yet clever, wicked yet wise, and altogether upset by just about everything in his life, it takes a deft hand to pick through his pain to find the core kernel of humanity. Thankfully, Lithgow is up to the challenge; he won the Olivier for playing Dahl last year in the West End.

While Lithgow had been working on a different theatrical project post-pandemic, he dropped it after receiving the call from director Nicholas Hytner to develop Giant. “Nick only had to write about three sentences about the play before I said yes,” says Lithgow, praising how Rosenblatt portrayed Dahl on the page. “[Dahl’s] a man of such charm and complexity, such humor, but he is dangerous … He has a latent cruelty that he wields like a saber. I've known a few people in my life like him, and they can betray savagery when you least expect it."

Lithgow has dug deep into the cumulative traumas that led to Dahl's approach toward life. Born to a Norwegian family in Wales, he lost both his elder sister and his father to sudden illnesses at the age of three, was physically beaten and isolated from his mother at an English boarding school, and endured what he described as "ritual cruelty and status domination" from the older boys and adults who were his primary influences away from home. In his early 20s, inspired in part by his dogged devotion to becoming an insider in English society, he enlisted in the Royal Air Force as World War II loomed. He narrowly survived a truly horrific crash during the war, which left him in extraordinary pain for the rest of his life, and with cluster headaches that would cause him to blackout at random. His eventual fame and fortune did nothing to shield him from continued tragedy.

"Two of his children suffered greatly, and he was helpless to stop it: his daughter Olivia died freakishly over the course of two weeks when she was seven years old, from the measles, shortly before the vaccine was released. His son Theo was in a ghastly car accident, hit by a taxi in his pram when he was four months old, which of course caused a brain injury," Lithgow shakes his head, mournful.

"Dahl had this pathological desire to fix things when they went wrong, and nothing frustrated him more than when he couldn't," Rosenblatt adds, sighing. "Theo's brain injuries from that accident meant that the valve that was supposed to drain his brain of liquid was not working very well. What does Dahl do? He, unlike most fathers who would focus on comfort in that situation, decides to invent a new type of valve. He teams up with a scientist, a neurologist, and an inventor, and they fix the problem with the valve, they patent it, and it is still available on the mass market ... When he could fix things, he was extraordinary in the effort he would expend. But when he couldn't control it..." Rosenblatt winces slightly as Lithgow exhales loudly. "That lack of control fed into his sense of helplessness and rage, and then he would lash out with all the power he could access. I think that is the root of his review, I think he's trying to fix something he can't fix on his own, and he's incensed."

One of Lithgow’s dear friends is Maria Tucci, the widow of Robert Gottlieb, who famously fired Dahl from Alfred A. Knopf after enduring one-too-many abuses from him. Lithgow dived deep in his research: “She was an extraordinary resource for me. She knew every aspect of him, and could describe in great detail the ways in which he would interact, both with adults and children. There’s this canard that he disliked children, but that was not true at all. He loved entertaining them. He loved writing for them. At an adult's cocktail party, when there were six or seven kids under foot, he would sweep them away and spend the entire time entertaining them upstairs, to the point where he was exhausted and would barely speak to the adults in the house ... It's fascinating to explore the roots of his nature, and the connection between that and his bigotry. I don’t believe people are born prejudiced. I believe it is something that develops.”

Lately, Lithgow has had many reasons to consider the nature of bigotry, admitting: “It is an uncanny coincidence that I'm playing Roald Dahl, the creator of one canon of young people's literature, and I'm also playing Dumbledore in a long-term series for HBO of Harry Potter, created by JK Rowling.” Once championed as the savior of literacy for children in the 21st century, Rowling has made headlines in recent years for devoting large swathes of her time to attacking the transgender community, using her fortune to campaign for anti-trans legislation. Lithgow’s decision to join the Harry Potter television series, which will financially benefit Rowling, drew harsh critiques.

“I have never met JK Rowling. I have not had a conversation with her, and I don’t intend to. I've read a lot about her, and I don't agree with her on many things. But unlike Dahl, I don’t see any trace of it in her writing for children,” Lithgow sighs, choosing his words very carefully. “I recently made a film called Jimpa, which is a beautiful film—one of my best, in my opinion. It deals directly with the dynamics of a family in which there's a queer, non-binary trans teen. I play their grandfather. I’m extraordinarily proud of it, and proud to be making work on the side of the angels when it comes to transgender individuals.”

As he wraps his Harry Potter filming schedule and reunites with Rosenblatt on the American side of the pond, both are eager to see how American audiences will respond to the play, and the complex levels of comprehension it requires. “I have enormous faith in this play and in New York audiences,” Lithgow confesses, smiling. “Bottom line, I think New Yorkers are starved for great new writing on stage, and Mark is answered prayers.”

Rosenblatt dips his head, blushing, as Lithgow continues on. “I've done more than 25 Broadway shows, and the only thing I can name that approaches the challenge of unleashing this on Broadway is M. Butterfly. Again, I find myself working with another daring young playwright who is unafraid to take on issues that really startle and unsettle people. I think people are hungry for that. I certainly am.”