Let me preface this by saying that I enjoyed Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, and having only read the script, I imagine that everything must be even more magical on stage.
But as a hopelessly besotted Harry Potter fan, I have two biases: I was bound to love the book regardless, simply because it is Harry Potter; at the same time, I cannot refrain from being highly critical, because the characters are so indelibly etched into my mind that any slight deviance will ring false. This is what has prevented me all these years from diving into the bottomless pool of Harry Potter fanfiction, which, to a certain extent, is what The Cursed Child is – albeit an officially sanctioned one.
The Cursed Child is well worth the trip to your local Muggle Flourish and Blott’s, but don’t be surprised if you don’t get what you expect. The new play is not so much the 8th book of the series as a stand-alone sequel. It takes on the hefty task of not only exploring new characters, but also testing old characters in new settings and evaluating old memories from a new point of view. The old protagonists now share the stage with their progeny, who, character-wise, are developed sufficiently (if not entirely satisfactorily) given the limits of the length of the play.
I’d say that for every three lines or moments that delighted my heart, there was one line or moment that raised an unsatisfied eyebrow. That said, it’s time to jump into the specifics, which means…
Warning: Here be spoilers
There are so many things to talk about that I couldn’t decide how to order my thoughts, so I took inspiration from Wizarding standardized testing.
Outstanding
The beginning. It may have been fan-service, it may have been a foregone conclusion, but I loved how Albus met Scorpius and was Sorted into Slytherin. It’s a near echo of Harry’s first meeting with Draco Malfoy, except that Draco drove Harry away from choosing Slytherin, while Scorpius influenced Albus to choose just that. For both Potters, their greatest friendships were born from their first Hogwarts Express encounter. (Rose was a force to be reckoned with, though I saw much more of Slytherin in her than either Albus or Scorpius. She practically mimics 11-year old Draco as she advises Albus on choosing who “to be friends with.”)
Scorpius and his relationship with Albus. With Albus achieving levels of angst worthy of Sasuke Uchiha and the Winchesters, Scorpius and his constant light-hearted self-deprecation are highly appreciated elements of the story. Their immediate chemistry is naturally and touchingly portrayed, and if it weren’t for Scorpius’ (slightly strange) obsession with Rose, I’d have started cautiously shipping them from their first hug. Scorpius is as much the main character as Albus is, especially when he becomes the sole protagonist due to Albus…well, not existing. And it’s perfectly appropriate that together, they used Potions knowledge to save the day.
Symbolism and foreshadowing. The original Harry Potter series incorporated this masterfully, allowing for many excellent “Ah-ha!” and “Ohhhh…” moments. The Cursed Child, while too short to permit any long-term payoffs, had things that made the AP Language student in me squeal with delight. To start with, Delphi. Her name alone is a dead giveaway that there was more to her than there seemed, malignant or otherwise: the Oracle at Delphi, in ancient Greece, was the famed giver of prophecies. And in her first appearance, she tells Albus: “I’m a thief, of course. I’m about to steal everything you own.” Which is exactly what happened when she helped the unwitting Albus erase his own existence.
On a related note, the Augurey, the association that supports Voldemort’s rule in one of the alternate universes, is named after the Augurey animal. As Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them describes it, the Augurey, also called the Irish Phoenix, is a dark, vulture-like bird that was believed to foretell death. It’s essentially the shadowy opposite of the Fawkes-type phoenix, just as the Augurey is the dark counterpart to the Order of the Phoenix. I had to Google this for the exact picture, but the descriptions of the Augurey’s tattoos gave us a pretty good idea.
Select dialogue and stage directions. There are quite a few of these, but these came to mind first:
Rose: “The rumor is that he’s Voldemort’s son, Albus…It’s probably rubbish. I mean…look, you’ve got a nose.”
When Albus gets Sorted into Slytherin: There’s a silence. A perfect, profound silence. One that sits low, twists a bit, and has damage within it.
Exceeded Expectations
Characterization of main characters, old and new. Everyone felt convincing, even if certain pieces of dialogue sounded slightly out of character. I liked Harry and Hermione’s easy friendship, at work and in private; however, it did come at the cost of any real Harry/Ron scenes except at the very end when they’re confronting Delphi. Since that friendship was at the core of the original series, I felt its lack keenly in The Cursed Child. Nevertheless, the generally excellent characterization of the main cast is one key reason why I constantly feel the desire the jump on a plane to London.
Harry and Ginny’s relationship. Mostly everything I could have hoped for - mutually supportive, Ginny still humorously charming, and the best part, which I didn’t even expect: Harry does the cooking in the Potter household! (Of course, that was in one of the alternate timelines, but I so do hope that it applies in the real universe as well.)
Acceptable
The Time-Turner conceit. I can see the attraction of exploring alternate universes, and it’s wonderful irony for Albus to literally revisit his father’s past and understand his father’s legacy, two things that he is desperate to escape from. But we didn’t need a story that justifies why things had to happen the way they did twenty years ago. For all that Albus and Harry grew closer as a result of their shared trials, as well as Scorpius and Draco, nothing much else changed from the start of the book to the end.
Harry and Albus’ conflict. For me, the driving force behind the play. In fact, I wouldn’t have at all minded if the play hadn’t had any plot involving Dark Magic, or any real antagonist at all. The script works best when it’s pure interaction between characters, exploring relationships and emotions, grudges and gratitudes. The final scene between them is simple and perfect; indeed every scene between them comes alive for me more vividly than any other. My only qualm is that despite the concept seeming fairly natural and authentic, the start and propagation of the conflict feel a touch artificial. The writers went out of their way to make Albus Harry’s opposite in everything, including hating Hogsmeade and being bad at Quidditch, the latter of which doesn’t really make sense given his genes and likely upbringing. And until his furious, heartbreaking outburst of “Sometimes I wish you weren’t my son,” Harry isn’t portrayed to be a particularly bad father, despite what Albus and he himself think. Harry is perfectly fine with Albus being in Slytherin, and accepts Scorpius…certainly he has trouble connecting with his son, but does it merit as much conflict between them as there is by Al’s fourth year?
The blanket. It’s sweet, it’s touching, and I very much felt Harry’s pain well up in me when Albus rejected it…but I couldn’t help cringing a bit at the mild cheesiness of it when Harry first brought it up. (Props for a Dudley mention, though.)
Poor
Dropped plot points. There was a wonderfully chilling, dark undercurrent that was built up in the beginning: Harry’s scar hurting again, and Hermione noting the seeming mobilization of Voldemort’s former beastly allies. The concept of a daughter of Voldemort is decently interesting, fanfiction-y elements aside, but I would have by far preferred a more likely plot, even if having giants and mountain trolls on stage would probably be a bit too groundbreaking to realize. While Harry’s scar could be passably explained by him feeling the presence of Delphi, who shares Voldemort’s blood and powers, there was no reason for giants with Augurey tattoos to be “walking through the Greek Seas”. If they were a part of Delphi’s plan, no mention of it was given.
Some cheesy or uncharacteristic dialogue. To wit: The number of times Harry said “I need your help” or some variant thereof felt quite jarring, especially when the frequency increased towards the end. Harry just doesn’t do Princess Leia.
Dreadful
The Time-Turning logic. So. Many. Plot holes. Other rants have gone into them at length so I won’t. Above all, though, I feel that messing around with the timeline and implying such a linearity in causes and consequences depreciates the complexity of characters’ actions and motivations in the original series.
Characterization of certain supporting characters. Under no circumstance could I imagine Cedric Diggory turning into a Death Eater for the sole reason of humiliation. There were many other ways to change the timeline so that Voldemort would win, and for some reason, the writers decided to for the least likely reason?
Additionally, and others may not agree, but Snape’s cameo was…ugh. Beyond feeling ridiculously like fan service, these lines could not in a million years, in any alternate universe, describe Snape:
Snape looks at him, every inch a hero, he softly smiles.
…Yeah, no. And then this:
“Tell Albus – tell Albus Severus – I’m proud he carries my name.”
The Counter-Augurey-Rebellion version of Snape must have grown soft or something.
Troll
Continuity errors. Fairly minor, in truth, but by Dumbledore*, don’t think I didn’t notice:
- Hermione compares their Act Four journey to Godric Hollow to “old times”, and Ron replies as if he had been there – except, assuming Hermione is referring to when she and Harry visited Bathilda Bagshot’s house in Book 7, Ron wasn’t there. He was traveling alone after his fallout with Harry at the time.
- Act One, Scene One of the play contains dialogue that is similar, but not at all identical to the Epilogue of Book 7. What gives? Is this some other weird alternate universe effect?
The bloody hell is Brachiabindo? What was wrong with Incarcerous? The candy in the candy cart didn’t even change – why’d the tying-people-up-with-rope spell change?
And why in all the forests of Albania did Hermione not charm her bookshelf to notify her if the Time-Turner was stolen?
*not sure how believable it is for the Wizarding World to start swearing by him a mere twenty years after his death…
Whew. Now, until someone buys me a plane ticket to London, I'll be combing Google for pictures of the stage production.
