The Witches is undoubtedly the most terrifying of all of Roald Dahl’s stories: the 1990 film adaptation starring Angelica Huston was one of the most disturbing things I ever saw as a boy, and I absolutely dreaded reading the book, knowing as I turned the pages that I’d inevitably see Quentin Blake’s revolting depiction of the Grand High Witch’s face. So naturally, I was very keen on checking out Pénélope Bagieu’s lavish take on this dark children’s tale.
Written by Roald Dahl
Adapted by Pénélope BagieuMost people don’t know that witches wear ordinary clothes and have ordinary jobs. They live in ordinary towns all across the world — and there’s nothing they despise more than children. When an eight-year-old boy and his grandmother come face-to-face with the Grand High Witch herself, they may be the only people who can stop the witches’ latest plot to stamp out every last child in the country.
This full-color graphic-novel edition of Roald Dahl’s The Witches is the first-ever Dahl story to appear in this format. Graphic-novel readers and Roald Dahl fans alike will relish this dynamic new take on a uniquely funny tale.
If you’ve read The Witches, you may or may not be pleased to know that Bagieu’s version is quite faithful to the book, hewing closely to its story and structure, and acting as more of an illustration of every sentence than an expansion or extrapolation. In lesser hands, this adaptation may have felt limited by its commitment to the source material, but Bagieu uses the larger page count to wring as much possible tension from each scene — whenever our young, unnamed protagonist encounters a witch, she slows down the pacing to a degree that will feel excruciating and agonizing for young readers, as if they really are trapped with a child-hating monster.
Bagieu also uses the decompressed storytelling to make the relationship between the boy and his grandmother more poignant: she invents a few (often wordless) scenes to emphasize the recent death of the boy’s parents (particularly early on), and there’s the particularly striking use of a whole page-sized panel to show how shocking and devastating it is when she discovers her boy has been turned into a mouse. These sequences enhance the heartfelt parts of the book, without making it too upsetting or dramatic.
These all contrast well with moments where Bagieu emulates Dahl’s style more firmly: Dahl was a great children’s writer because he’d spend many pages on worldbuilding, with morsels of imaginative factoids that you became addicted to reading, whether it was Grandmamma explaining how to spot a real witch, or the Grand High Witch outlining every step of her dastardly plan to turn the children of England into mice. Bagieu elaborately renders these moments like how-to guides, almost like you’re being encouraged to photocopy these pages and keep them in your pocket.
The art is colorful and seems to have been drawn entirely with pencils, giving it a friendly appearance despite its gruesome story. There are no straight lines, not even for the panels, making it feel more childlike, and shading is provided by smudging — there’s so much you may catch yourself subconsciously checking your fingerprints, and Bagieu appears to have particularly delighted in rendering the smoke from Grandmamma’s cigars. This, coupled with some instances of blood, helps the comic stay true to Dahl’s edgy appeal.
The lettering is rendered in upper and lower case, except for the Grand High Witch’s dialogue, which bellows at you entirely in block capitals. Bagieu’s version of the villain’s true face is nowhere as disturbing as previous takes on her (without giving too much away, she ironically resembles a rabid rodent), but she’s still hideous, to the point you can imagine her spit talking. What’s great about this design is that her mask looks like a very bad piece of plastic surgery: it barely disguises the corners of her face, nevermind her venomous eyes and crooked teeth, and reinforces the message that beauty can be often only skin deep.
The most fun aspect of this adaptation has to be seeing a British story through a French lens: the protagonist appears to be of Algerian descent now, while his Grandmamma is tanned for her age, and all the witches wear bouffant wigs and chic clothes — you can almost hear the French accents. (The rest of the holidaymakers look unflatteringly English ie. sunburnt, naturally.) The boy’s home seems to blend London and Parisian rooftops, while the main setting of the seaside hotel appears to be Brighton, if Royal Pavilion was situated on Palace Pier — it’s a funhouse mirror of England that only a French artist could cobble together.
Likewise, it’s great seeing a woman reimagine a story about feminine monsters, and it’s a pleasant surprise to see the other boy-turned-mouse from the book — the gluttonous Bruno — be replaced by a feisty girl who’s the main character’s equal in every respect. It makes you realize how few female protagonists Dahl’s books had, and it’s great seeing this become a children’s book where a boy and a girl are co-leads — it should also ward off old criticisms that the story has a sexist subtext.
That last alteration is arguably why this is superior to the source material, but only just: it’s not that different, and overall comes across as a slightly slower paced version. Nevertheless, it’s a beautifully drawn adaptation that’s as engaging, funny and sinister as the source material, and a great benchmark for the subsequent graphic novels of Dahl’s work that will hopefully come next. To Bagieu: she will definitely cast a spell over readers for years to come with this.