Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.
By Jack Thorne. Based on a story by J.K. Rowling, John Tiffany and Jack Thorne
I didn’t read this published rehearsal version of the play’s script for a year after it came out because I had heard a number of negative reactions from the Potter fandom. Perhaps my lowered expectations paved the way for my overall enjoyment and positive assessment, or maybe my sensibilities are just different from those of people who didn’t like Cursed Child, but I think that this is a thoughtful and intriguing addition to the canon. There are a few actions and statements from characters interspersed that had me dubiously saying, “Huh? Really?!” I didn’t buy that particular character would go there; but, those were few. For the most part, I followed with much curiosity where the story led me. It is a compelling reflection on the dangers and possibilities of time travel, and—like the novels—the themes of choice, family, friendship, love, and collaboration.
In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Dumbledore sternly warned Hermione and Harry about being seen and in any way interacting with others when using the time turner to go back in time. The smallest action could set off a chain reaction that could dramatically alter history. The two teens then were successful at their mission. Not so the time-traveling teen wizards in this story, and the alternative histories that result invite readers/viewers of the play to think about just how much difference a seemingly small choice can make. At times, these differences are just comical, and some good dialogue writing had me laughing out loud. At others, the consequences are dire in terms of the political and social directions the Wizarding world takes. They also offer implications for our real world: which individual or community choices that people make might contribute to the development of a fascist world? Which to a more compassionate world? As Rowling always did with the original books, actual political, social, and cultural issues are explored at through fantasy.
While I am typically not a huge fan of obvious Oedipal dramas, and while at times I got aggravated with some of Albus Potter’s stupid actions, taken to differentiate himself from his mythically heroic father, the play does work through some important issues of struggle with familial legacies of trauma, mythology, and bigger-than-life fathers—from both the fathers’ and sons’ perspectives. Albus has to deal with the baggage of a hero father when he feels he is not hero material, and Harry experiences difficulty parenting when he had no father himself and lives with continual high expectations for his behavior, placed there both by the Wizarding world and by himself. Scorpius wrestles with his family’s history as Death Eaters and nasty rumors of his actual parentage, while Draco works to be a better father than his emotionally distant and demanding one.
When Albus and Scorpius become best friends at Hogwarts and embark on a highly dangerous advernture, Harry, Ron, and Hermione must bring Draco into their circle. For those who criticized the seven book series for its continuous marginalization of Slytherin House and its members, this rapprochement might be welcome. I think it deepens the series’ themes of friendship, love, and the need to work together. And, with Hermione as Minister for Magic and a new female villain, the feminist angles are rich. I highly recommend this to Potter fans and look forward to seeing the play on stage someday.
