Everybody's favourite childhood tall man is majestically illuminated in Spielberg's latest feature film.
Freed from the fetters of the Weta workshop studio, BFG strides across our screens in a charming homage to childhood with the colours of an impressionist canvas.
Somehow the American sensibility of a Spielberg has married the British sense of tradition and duty, and the result is a thing of wonder, a wholly original creation... or "bean."
As Dahl's vision unfolds onscreen it quickly becomes clear there's nothing derivative about this film.
I found myself spellbound at the surprisingly arresting and freshly-wrought visual moments, aided by the judicious use of computer enhancement, and the film's sense of humour. I was impressed at how Spielberg retained the integrity of the source material while also keeping his hand firm at the helm throughout the project. I couldn't stop smiling.
The unconventional choice of Olivier-winning Mark Rylance in the lead role, in BFG's own accent, a West Country drawl, was a master stroke, and Spielberg also wisely cast CGI in the role of servant to the story rather than central player.
He allowed his "gee whiz" American sensibilities, not at all at odds with this tall tale, to be reined in just enough, and tempered his impulses with what appeared to be genuine affection for all things British. And it was the little details that allowed the sheer Englishness of Dahl's story to shine. The monarchist angle played just long enough not to be cloying (the farting corgis were a nice touch.)
Prepare yourself for enchantment by way of sight gags, spoonerisms, malapropisms, and another turn by Jemaine Clement as a Mick Jagger soundalike baddie.
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