The smash hit Matilda, based on a Roald Dahl story, has spawned a copycat effort, The Twits. Charm, sweetness and mystery aren’t Dahl’s strong points. He specialises in suburban grotesques who commit infantile barbarities. But his prose is sensational. No ‘style’ at all, just the simplicity and clarity of a master copywriter. He’s as good as Orwell. Mr and Mrs Twit are a pair of malignant outcasts who enjoy tormenting innocents. They keep a family of monkeys in a cage and they glue birds to trees and shoot them. You can read the story in about 20 minutes. It probably took Dahl a bit longer than that to write. And Enda Walsh’s essay-crisis adaptation may have delayed him for a day or two. He supplements Dahl’s threadbare yarn with a tepid romance between a man and a monkey, and he adds a tussle for the ownership of a funfair, but this doesn’t fix the basic problem.
Lloyd Evans
Stage fright
Plus: the Royal Court’s adaptation of The Twits doesn’t belong on stage but Mrs Roosevelt Flies to London offers an illuminating slice of history
issue 25 April 2015
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