‘The Wonderful Story Of Henry Sugar’: Venice Review

Dir: Wes Anderson. US. 2023. 39mins

Wes Anderson returns to the world of Roald Dahl (after 2009’s The Fantastic Mr Fox) with this typically star-studded 39-minute adaptation of Dahl’s The Wonderful Story Of Henry Sugar, one of the first productions out of the box since Netflix bought the Roald Dahl Story Company in 2021 (the first was Matilda: The Musical). Its layered story, about a rich man and the extraordinary book that changes his life, is particularly well-suited to Anderson, who revels in such Russian Doll narratives and delivers the story as a dramatic reading, narrated by its characters.

A short but entirely satisfying confection

Henry Sugar premieres in Venice, which likes to make a splash with shorts (see Pedro Almodovar’s 2020 The Human Voice), before debuting on Netflix on September 27. Anderson has long wanted to adapt this particular Dahl short story, which was first published in a 1977 collection, and his admiration of the source material is obvious; as is his understanding of its writer — with whom Anderson shares a meticulous approach and a strong sense of authorship. His focus here is firmly on Dahl’s words; this dramatic reading is delivered rapid-fire by the story’s various characters – who, as in Dahl’s original – are entirely male. 

Dahl himself (Ralph Fiennes) begins the faithful narration, ensconced in a recreation of his famous writing shed at Gipsy House, Buckinghamshire. Soon, however, the Gipsy House set rolls away and a hive of backstage activity is momentarily glimpsed. This is replaced by the grand hall of a country house, where Dahl appears at a window to pass the story’s narration onto Henry Sugar himself (a wonderfully straight-faced Benedict Cumberbatch).

We realise that Anderson is mounting the film as a theatrical production — as it progresses, sets, costume and make-up changes on-screen, stagehands pop in and out with props, and the director uses miniatures, camera tracks and painted backgrounds, working with his regular band of artistic collaborators including Alexandre Desplat, whose score is restrained enough not to overwhelm organic sounds like the creaks of the moving sets and piped-in street noises. The director has created a world of gleefully contrived artifice — in line with the fact that Henry Sugar is regarded to be something of a deliberately constructed swipe by Dahl at his critics, who accused him of writing mean stories populated by unpleasant characters.

When Sugar discovers a strange book about a man named Imdad Khan who could see without his eyes, we are jolted back to early 20th century India where Khan (Ben Kingsley) and medical practitioner Dr Chatterjee (Dev Patel) recount how Khan learned his incredible talent. Back in 1950s London, Sugar teaches himself the same skill, using it to cheat at cards in the local casino. Finding himself changed by the experience, he decides to use his talent to raise money for needy causes, with the help of accountant John Winston (also played by Patel). The conceit is that, after Sugar’s death, Winston recounts the tale to Dahl.

Production designer Adam Stockhausen gives every section of this story its own unique identity, largely through the use of colour: India is painted in earthy tones, while Sugar’s late 1950s-set London world is shaded in colder, sharper tones of blue and grey. Yet it’s all so meticulously choreographed and edited by Barney Pilling and Andrew Weisblum, that it plays as a fluid non-stop piece of drama, despite obvious cuts — such as when characters walk off screen and return immediately in different costumes. The result is funny and charming, a short but entirely satisfying confection.