Thoughts on The Cursed Child Play

     A new book once every frustrating few years suddenly seemed the stuff of luxurious dreams once the Harry Potter fandom turned the final page of Deathly Hallows and realised that nothing new would appear again. In reluctant acceptance of the end of the series, fans turned to fanfiction, the endless debating of headcanons, even meme creation, quietly and consistently banging the drum of a fandom too large and too invested to ever truly let go. I had accepted the end of Harry Potter, but all too often a reread of the series would pull new aches for another dose of that world, a few days would be spent trawling the internet for some shadow of JK’s work that would satisfy the hunger, and then it would be back to my normal life, where I loved Harry Potter but I could live with what we had been given.

     The announcement of a Cursed Child brought the inevitable giddy excitement, but also a hefty amount of nerves. The cracking open of a sacred story that has long been revered worldwide is, of course, scary to its most devoted fans. What if idolised characters are brought crashing down from their pedestals, as Atticus was in the sequel to To Kill a Mockingbird? What if the genius of the original story is marred by association to the new clumsy addition? What if it really is true that one can have too much of a good thing?

     There is certainly magic found in the new play, but unfortunately for the majority only able to read the script, I believe that a lot of it lies within the magic of theatre. The thrill of being held captive by its walls for a few hours, watching something new unfold with dozens of other spellbound spectators. I don’t want to ruin the viewing experience for anyone else, and I certainly don’t want to upset JK by not ‘keeping the secrets’ so I’ll try to keep my more specific observations as vague as I can. The staging and the special effects are indeed incredible, I have found myself unable to offer any sufficient explanation to script-readers as to how certain stage directions and effects were pulled off, and even mundane acts like moving tables are made enthralling by the carefully choreographed swishing of robes and capes. Scorpius’ role as pretty much the comedic lead surprised me, as did the amount of humour in the play. It was almost as if all of the nuggets of hilarity that peppered the novels had been collected and stacked one after another. This was one of the most blissful realisations for me – that we had regained the part of Harry Potter that is often lost in the hurried darkness of the movies: the humour and the reminder that although this alternate world is fantastical, the characters are still human, and teenagers at that. Rose Granger-Weasley does not play a huge role plot wise but hers was one of the characters that touched my Gryffindor robe wearing heart the most. Having identified with Hermione a lot as a young reader, seeing her child Rose as practically the inverse of her; arriving at Hogwarts proud of her stellar parentage, able to excel without the fear of failure or the pressure of proving herself, was a wonderful thing for the playwrights to have made sure was present. However, the most heartbreaking scene was doubly so because I knew as I watched it that it was the scene that would be done the least justice by the script-book, and my face fell for the fans who wouldn’t get to see it. This scene consists of only Albus and Scorpius, music, the absence of dialogue, and staircases dancing so in tune with the actors' nuanced performances that it is determined by the audience that magic must exist. The play also includes some flashbacks of Harry’s to classic scenes we know by heart, reimagined and made newly poignant with staging and music, perhaps added primarily for the nostalgia factor, and which I, and the countless tears on my face, highly approved of.

     Contrary to critics saying otherwise, I don’t think the plot is any more convoluted than the plot of the Goblet of Fire, it just feels more rushed because revelations that would come every few chapters in a novel must come at the end of every scene. That said, I do believe that some of JK’s magic in terms of plot crafting and character nuance is missing. Most of the magic that is created is done so because everyone who is involved in the creation of this play, from actor to audience, treats it with the respect and the reverence that it deserves, and that its fans demand. I don’t think the story itself automatically buys its place next to the sacred seven canon, but the play certainly made me feel seven again. I would spend my summers cross legged with my nose creeping closer and closer to the pages of the books, desperate to find a way in to the wizarding world. I can’t deny that the closest I have gotten to this feeling again was being sat in the theatre with the captivated congregation as they watched their characters, their idols, long believed silenced inside the pages of book seven, speak new words and be given new life. You could not buy this kind of audience: a room packed with people who have immersed themselves in this world for years, long believed it over, and then desperately sought a coveted ticket in order to throw themselves into it again.

     In all honesty I would have preferred a subtler story and a less plot driven insight into Harry’s struggles as an aging father. I was expecting something more careful, more grounded, and all together more normal really. Harry’s scar hurting again was the step too far for me, I found myself seething slightly with the last words of the series flaring angrily across my head - “Noooo..all was WELL”. And finally, I know I am not alone in still quietly wishing for (and cyber-harassing JK for) a prequel set in the Marauders times. I have kept the typing of this wish until the end of this post, for if had it been allowed across the page any sooner it could have become the subject of the entire thing. It was my first thought when The Cursed Child was announced, and it was my last as I left the theatre. It pains me to admit that as much as we brashly tweet and beg for these stories, they are too sacred to risk. If we as a fandom have reacted this defensively at The Cursed Child’s revelations about Albus Potter and co, imagine the carnage that would ensue if the much more idolised Marauders were to be the subject. At the very least, we do get a shining last look at Lily and James in this play, and it is somehow heartbreakingly enough, in the same way that that scene is enough of a last look at them for Harry himself.

     As a lover of both the theatre and of Harry Potter, I can't imagine another event that would make me as excited, nervous and all together desperate to see as this one has. The Cursed Child did deliver for me, but not for the reasons I expected it to, and not for the reasons I know a lot of the fans were relying on it to. You can choose yourself whether to gladly accept or quietly deny the legitimacy of this addition to the series, but I wouldn't reject it outright or dismiss it purely based on its form as a script. This really is a story that thrives as a play, and one that would have become extremely disappointing had it had been forced into novel form. At least as a piece of theatre the wonder is allowed to extend beyond the cumbersome plot, and the fans are given a chance (if a slim one) at seeing it in all its glory on the spellbinding stage.

x