Nine years ago this week, J. K. Rowling published the last book in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Fans, of course, weren’t satisfied: not with seven adventures, three universe-expanding guides, seven movies, and an online compendium managed by the author herself. So they turned to fan fiction. For the uninitiated, that means Draco and Harry getting it on, Hermione Granger becoming a Dark Witch, etc. Oh, and time travel. There’s always time travel.
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, performed in two parts and opening in London this week and bound for Broadway, is so much fan fiction — even though the story was guided and micro-managed (though not officially “written”) by J.K. Rowling herself.
Granted, most of the time, the performances are so good that the fanficiness doesn’t matter. It’s vivid theater, peppered with magic tricks by illusionist Jamie Harrison, whose set-pieces seem designed to brag of their own budget
But when the fan-fiction ubiquity of time-turners (a portable, bijou version of a time-machine) has become a running joke in the Potter fandom, you’d think the Great Jo herself would have vetoed a plot that renders her own authority cheaply derivative.
The painfully expository script, full of extraneous detail (“Ron says I see more of my secretary, Ethel, than him,” prattles Hermione), is written by well-known British playwright Jack Thorne. But like all things Potter Inc, Rowling was heavily involved in developing the story — which is set 19 years after the final book in the series ended — with Thorne and director Tiffany.
SPOILERS follow for next three paragraphs.
Albus Severus Potter (Sam Clemmett) and Scorpius Malfoy (Anthony Boyle) are best friends, naturally. If you’ve read the books, you’ll know these are the children of two old foes, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. As Rose Granger-Weasley (her mother Hermione seems more fussed about matrilineal surnames than Harry’s wife Ginny), actress Cherrelle Skeete is hardly involved; instead, the pair are egged on in their adventures by a new character, Delphine, who appears to be the niece of Amos Diggory.
Looking for a reason to hate his father, Albus decides to side with Amos, who blames Harry for the death of his son Cedric back in Book 4 of the original series. He and Scorpius set off to prevent Cedric’s death in the first place, using an illegal time-turner that just happens to have been recently reclaimed by the Ministry of Magic. (The cautious Hermione, now Minister of Magic, has hidden this valuable instrument in her personal office, the most unconvincing plot-point in a show that also involves mermen, goblins, and Harry and Draco cracking sex jokes.)
“The show’s opening and closing dates have been reshuffled so much in order to wrong-foot any potential terrorist activity”
Meddling with time, of course, is a Bad Thing. Albus and Scorpius hop through time on five different occasions before they learn this lesson, finally uniting with their parents for the showdown against Voldemort’s latest avatar in Godric’s Hollow. For lo! Women, as always, are a source of danger. Delphine (or Delphi, if we’re flirting) is not the manic pixie dream girl she appears. The secret daughter of Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange (yes, really), it is she who’s been manipulating our hapless teenage hormone-puppets all along. Instead of chasing after bad girls, both Albus and Scorpius learn that male-friendship — and perhaps family — is all you can really trust. Bros before hos, man.
Given J. K. Rowling’s much-vaunted feminism, it feels a little flat. In the UK, Rowling is famous for being a leftist (who else would value a magic kingdom ruled by civil servants?). But her old wit is here and her full heart. Hermione may still be a goody two-shoes, but as the daughter of dentists, she’s finally found an opportunity for rebellion: an addiction to sticky toffee candies. She’s a pretty cool Minister for Magic, too. It’s just a shame there aren’t any young women in Hermione’s world who seem worthy of her example.
This being John Tiffany, one of London’s premiere theater directors, the production values lift the show well above the weaknesses of the script. Noma Dumezweni more than proves her critics wrong in her performance of a wise, empathetic Hermione.
As Potter, Parker is a tornado of angst and anger, every bit as angry and emotionally blocked as the adolescent who witnessed Cedric’s death. Potter fans will gasp as a series of familiar faces return: from Bane the Centaur (growling under Dothraki eyeliner) to Severus Snape (older, fatter, and far too cuddly, in one of Albus’ ill-fated visits to an alternative reality). But the core of the story is the moving journey of two messed-up boys coming to love their Dads, with Clemmett and Boyle both proving superb in the teenage roles.
As usual, Rowling could have done with an editor. You’ll need to see both shows to make sense of the plot. An uncharitable reading suggests the producers were keen to double their money; but where there’s padding, it seems more in the interests of tacky fan-service than anything else. (Do we have to hear so much about Ron and Hermione’s married smooches?)
If you do chose to hit up the Palace Theatre in London, you’ll have to queue an hour around the block for a bag search. The word is that the show’s opening and closing dates have been reshuffled so much in order to wrong-foot any potential terrorist activity.
If only self-indulgent nostalgia served as a real-world Patronus Charm. There’s a cloud of it radiating throughout the streets of London’s theatreland right now.
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child opens officially at the Palace Theatre, in London’s West End, on Saturday.
