Karen Segall

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Against my better judgement and amidst the hype regarding the very talented cast, I tried to watch the movie based on the musical based on the book by the notorious anti-Semite, Roald Dahl. I made it to the scene where an overweight little boy is forced to consume an enormous chocolate cake to avoid being locked up in a box before I called it a night. A movie about child abuse for children - even enterprising, resilient children - really isn’t it.

A trite, cringe-worthy memoir centered around one man’s dual obsessions: being born second in a country with monarchic primogeniture and that country’s free press. Add to this a whopping Oedipal complex, some good old fashioned paranoia, a little new age psychobabble plus a heaping helping of petty and you’ve got the gist. I had to pull over while listening to the audiobook it was so laughably bad. One man’s “truth” sounds much more like it belongs in the fantasy section of the library. Blech.