Your mileage may vary regarding Mark Rylance’s incessant delivery of Roald Dahl-isms like “snozzcumber” and “jigglyraffe,” but whatever your take on whimsical slang, there are more essential matters when evaluating The BFG. The Big Friendly Giant’s capture of little Sophie (Ruby Barnhill – the most moppet-ish moppet who ever moppet-ed) happens right quick, and thus her life in the orphanage is never fully cinematically formulated. The BFG’s lair is fun to play around in, but it feels less like a fantasy world of escape and more like the status quo. Thus, much of The BFG feels oddly detached from any purpose.
Eventually, the film clicks into gear when Sophie and the BFG visit the Queen (a delightful Penelope Wilton) to enact their plan against the more cannibalistic giants. It is a matter context: yes, the Sophie-BFG relationship is obviously the crux of the movie, but it must be seen within the rest of the world’s (or at least England’s) reaction to giants. The royal reception is optimistic about statesmanship, and also makes a weird case in favor of the monarchy’s continued relevance.
I give The BFG 6 Frobscottle Farts out of 10 Corgis.