of one Roald Dahl.
RD is ingenuous. And when illustrated by the great Quentin Blake—nothing short of genius. He’s my own kind of cynic, sometimes. Was. Some of his works, his wonders to behold, are very much aimed for a catered market.
enough of the critical analysis, onwards and upwards to my point. Which is—
ON A WHIM
the other day we bought the Dvd of The BFG. There were no rave reviews in the literature apparently, and I believe the movie took a while to even break even and/or return a profit. But knowing that Spielberg isn’t into creating duds we took the punt and last night viewed our investment.
We needn’t have worried.
So to all you critics out there who caned it:
GO SUCK EGGS~!
Really bad eggs.
We loved it.
And that scene towards the end where the Royal folks and their entourage drank the Big Friendly Giant’s home brewed snozzcumber juice … oh gods, we both cracked completely.
I can see why it wasn’t a huge hit, but as ol’ Forrest Gump might have said “You never know what’s inside the choclit ’till you take the wrapper off and bite it” and I endorse that. Different strokes for different folks; speaking of which my own thoughts be—
Trust only your own judgement
—and that’s all that matters in all matters.
Especially Art …