Published in 1982, The BFG might not have been the most appealing Roald Dahl book insofar as film adaptations were concerned—at least not in the way of other works, such as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or Matilda, that lent themselves more easily to cinematic visualisation. Revolving around a little girl who makes the acquaintance of a Big Friendly Giant—the BFG—an encounter that forever changes their lives, the story might be among the most beloved of the author’s oeuvre, but it is telling that there has so far only been one previous attempt at recasting it for the screen, namely a quirky, charming made-for-TV animated movie directed by Brian Cosgrave in 1989. Today, almost three decades since its last outing, The BFG is back, in live-action/CGI/motion-capture feature-form in the hands of the needs-no-introduction Steven Spielberg. As it turns out, the wait has made for excellent timing: along with pitch-perfect performances from the cast, Spielberg and his team of digital magicians serve up an extravagant, whimsical and thoroughly satisfying rendition of Dahl’s tale that simply couldn’t have been made at any other point in history.

Little Sophie (Ruby Barnhill) is in the habit of tiptoeing around the orphanage she lives in London in the dead of the night—the “witching hour”—a time when the mean Mrs Clonkers is fast asleep and she can catch up on her reading. On one of these occasions, however, she spies something quite extraordinary out the window: a thin, cloaked figure, tall as a house, creeping about the cobbled streets. Suddenly, it turns, their eyes meet, and before she knows it, a massive hand has reached into the dormitory, scooped her right out of bed, and carried her off into the night. When Sophie finally gets her bearings, she discovers that she has been kidnapped by a giant (Mark Rylance) and taken, many, many miles from her home, to Giant Country.

Upon finding herself in a kitchen, amid huge pots and pans, the poor girl is understandably terrified, certain that the creature—with his wizened hair, flappy ears, big teeth and all-around enormosity—is planning to have her for breakfast. But it soon becomes clear that is not his intent; he is a benevolent giant, you see, with the Sandman-ish responsibility of blowing pleasant dreams into people’s heads as they sleep, and he most definitely doesn’t eat what he refers to in his garbled way of speaking as “human beans” (just snozzcumbers for him, thankyouverymuch). The only reason he picked her up was because she had seen him, and might blab about it to others. Although this reassures Sophie somewhat, and she quickly starts to enjoy his company, the BFG (as she christens him) warns her that there are others of his kind around who are not quite so obliging, much bigger, and far more inclined

to the taste of the aforementioned “beans” than he. She eventually discovers them for herself (played by actors including Bill Hader and Jermaine Clement), ugly, aggressive brutes who bully the BFG relentlessly and gobble up humans as they please. Deciding that they must be stopped, Sophie partners up with the BFG—with help from rather unexpected quarters towards the end—in a quest to bring these beasts to account. Spielberg and late writer Melissa Mathisian, whom the director had collaborated with on the famed ET the Extra-Terrestrial many moons ago, mostly stick to the broad outlines of Dahl’s work, but have made some tweaks here and there, particularly with regard to the BFG’s past, boldly adding a new layer to his mythology. Fortunately, these changes have been thoughtfully achieved, so that the spirit of the original is very much preserved, particularly that hint of darkness that always hovers at the edges of the frames in Dahl’s dreamlike worlds. Perhaps it is also the case that the charm of The BFG was never about an articulate plotline, but more to do with the joy of watching an unlikely friendship blossom: both the lead characters are ostracised by those around them, outsiders in their own ways, and both very lonely. Taking on the roles of parent and child almost by turn, the growing affection between the two is heartwarming to witness in terms of how it emboldens them and brings them out of their e shells, a theme shared with ET. The film successfully renders that connection by maintaining focus on their interactions, so that despite the admittedly basic overall story arc, we are invested.

Also retained is the wonderful musicality of Dahl’s prose, encapsulated most by the BFG, whose nonsensical but utterly delightful twisting of the English language comprises the highlight of the film. You can’t help but agree with Sophie when she tells him, “I think you speak beautifully. Simply beautifully.” Of course, it doesn’t hurt having someone like Rylance—whom you’ll remember from another recent Spielberg film, Bridge of Spies, as well as last year’s Wolf Hall miniseries on the small screen—on board. The actor truly has not only one of the most distinctive voices in the business, but also one of the most expressive faces. That expressiveness hasn’t been lost in the digital tinkering and he manages to look plenty human: Andy Serkis better watch out, there’s a new motion-capture muse in town.

BFG-sized props are thus due to the Weta Digital team from New Zealand (the people famously responsible for the special effects in The Lord of the Rings and many other productions) for how seamlessly they’ve been able to fuse the real and the artificial, not just in the rendering of the titular giant but also the various landscapes and set-pieces in the film. Indeed, there are many eye-catching sequences here, impressive even in these CGI-weary times; whether it’s the rolling green hills and cliffs of Giant Country, the special place under a lake where our bumbling hero goes to collect dreams, or just scenes of Sophie exploring her host’s outsized living arrangements, it all makes for a very imaginative, and immersive, manipulation of scale and perspective. And what of little Barnhill? It’s a testament to the young actor’s presence that she isn’t swallowed up by the over-the-top backdrops; eloquent, confident and controlled, she might be a tiny speck in the giants’ world, but she has a sizeable personality.

At almost two hours of running-time, The BFG can occasionally feel a bit slow, especially during the middle portion, though it more than makes up for that with a playful final third. But for kids who aren’t acquainted with Dahl’s works, and who are used to the rather more aggressively noisy, busy-for-the-sake-of-being-busy features that qualify as children’s entertainment today, this might seem dull by comparison. It would, however, be a shame if they were to turn away; there’s a great deal to love and enjoy here, so long as one is willing to slow down, take a breath and indulge in some old-fashioned, intimate storytelling.