Steven Spielberg's The BFG is a film of great warmth, great creativity, great beauty, and absolutely no momentum. I almost fell asleep in the middle of it. This is particularly frustrating because, as I think back upon it, I cannot for the life of my figure out what could have been done differently to make the film more engaging. Mark Rylance is perfect as the BFG, Ruby Barnhill was marvelous as Sophie. The scenes where they catch dreams in the lake was breathtaking and the fart scene with the Queen was the best involving flatulence since the bean scene in Blazing Saddles (1974). And yet, I still felt like I was watching paint dry. Beautiful paint, mind you. But paint nonetheless.
5/10
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