If you haven’t met me, you’ve probably met someone like me: I’m that Harry Potter friend. A few times a month, I’ll wear my Time Turner necklace or my Chudley Cannons shirt. When my parents surprised us with a trip to Disney and Harry Potter World, I cried. (And before you ask—yes, I have a wand. Yes, it’s Hermione’s wand.) I reread the books before the last four movies and three books came out, and I read them again a few months ago.
I re-read the books because, despite J.K. Rowling’s nearly-incessant comments that The Cursed Child was not a sequel to the Harry Potter series, I couldn’t bear opening that script without having read the original seven. It had been about five years since the release of the eighth movie, and I needed to laugh with Fred and George again after my freshman year at Kenyon. Harry’s story was even fuller and more beautiful than I remembered. Rowling’s writing matured as Harry did, and my affection for Ron grew considerably. I picked up more symbolism this time around, and I have never wanted Apparation to exist more. Even “Angsty Fifth Book Harry” struck a chord with me.
And so, on July 31st, I wore my Time Turner around my neck and drove with my dad to the nearest Barnes & Noble. We had been going to the midnight releases since I was old enough to stay up that late, and we decided to head to the bookstore one last time. After the countdown and about forty additional minutes waiting in line, the cashier handed me The Cursed Child and a button with Meet Harry Potter stamped onto it. Now, a few points I would like to make about the script:
1. I finished it in about three hours.
2. It was longer than most plays I had read, but it was still a play.
3. It was not, by any means, another Harry Potter novel.
4. It was nostalgic in (most of) the ways I wanted it to be.
5. It was a bit ridiculous at times.
6. It was darker than I expected.
7. It was funny, and sad, and exciting, and moving.
8. It was Harry. And Hermione. And Ginny. And Ron. And Draco (who I did not expect to enjoy as much as I did).
9. It was Albus and Rose and Scorpio (who I was also pleasantly surprised by).
10. And it was a play.
I know I keep repeating that, but I think many of the critics who read the piece are trying to judge the work in comparison to the seven novels—the same novels that gave me an escape from the anxieties of my own young life. The Cursed Child will never be the eighth book. It was never supposed to be the eighth book.
There are some moments where the script seems to fall short. (I won’t spoil them because if you are still thinking about reading it, I want you to feel the newness we were all looking forward to with the release of the first series.) However, I think those moments are the side effect of reading a piece of writing that is meant for the stage: they are visual. We miss some of the magic of it when the pages can’t suck us in and show us the world they have built (yes, that was a weird Chamber of Secrets reference).
Nonetheless, there was so much more to the piece than those hiccups. Some of the stage directions contained the kind of simple, profound elegance that captures an intense emotion and mood in just a few words. Moreover, the interactions between Harry, Ron, and Hermione harken back to their childhoods. Those are just some of the reasons why I could not put the play down. From the first scene onwards, I was swept into the narrative Rowling, Thorne, and Tiffany created. The dialogue moved well, and the plot was unpredictable and exciting.
The Cursed Child is a story about the son of the Boy Who Lived. He makes some awful mistakes and has a hard time fixing them. The play is also about the relationship between a son and a father who never had a father. Thorne’s writing was a lovely combination of magical storylines and realistic conversations about the complex intricacies of family. It reminded me of the friendships we find (oftentimes, in the most unlikely of places) that will stay with us for the rest of our lives.
For me, it was a look back into the world I so love and admire. I can only hope that I will actually see the script performed onstage. Because, at the end of it all, that is what The Cursed Child is: a play. It is meant to be spoken and seen and experienced in that infinitely powerful medium of theater. If the handful of released photos, sparse stage directions, and plentiful positive reviews provide any clues, the live production is magnificent. It is another piece of magic that lives and breathes in front of me. It is the talking portraits I grew up so wanting to exist.
Image credits: Taylor Hazan, Buzzfeed.com