The Cursed Play and the death of subtlety

That must be some production in London to be getting all those rave reviews.

Because, having now read the "Special Rehearsal Edition Script" of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (Parts 1 and 2), I can tell you: it's a really bad play.

Worse still, it's bad Harry Potter.

I had high hopes for The Cursed Play, looking forward to seeing what J.K. Rowling, who (to my mind) is a brilliant, masterful writer of prose, would do with a Harry Potter script. Could she translate her remarkable gifts into this very different style of writing?

But this play was not written by Rowling: it was written by Jack Thorne, "based on an original new story by J.K. Rowling, John Tiffany & Jack Thorne", according to the new book's cover.

What exactly does that mean? It's clear that J.K. has endorsed The Cursed Play -- she promotes it every chance she gets -- but how much input did she really have in the its writing?

From the quality of the written script, I would say, "Not much".

The plot is as complicated and silly as they come. Albus makes friends with Scorpius, two loners who find each other as they try to survive their first year at Hogwarts, each struggling under the weight of his real or suspected lineage.

Albus hates his father (though we're never sure exactly why) and so, when he overhears Harry Potter refuse old Amos Diggory's request that he use a newly discovered Time Turner to go back to the Tri-Wizard Tournament and save Amos' son Cedric, Albus decides that he and Scorpius must steal the Time Turner, save Cedric and put his father forever in his place.

All kinds of mayhem ensues, including multiple incursions into the past, the creation of several alternate (and successively darker) timelines, extensive dream sequences, murder, deceit, and the inevitable return of Lord Voldemort.

Thorne manages to introduce or mention just about every character of any stature from the original seven Harry Potter novels, to revisit location after location from those books and to raise for discussion most of the major emotional themes Rowling wove so carefully into her original story.

It's like really bad fan fiction. Or like a rabid Potter fan wrote down every character, location and theme they could think of, threw the list at the playwright and said: "Write a play that mentions every one of these, no matter how long and convoluted it becomes." And Thorne seems to have accepted that challenge as ranking in importance above any need to structure the plot, for example.

Worse still, Thorne's dialogue is remarkably bland and banal. If he isn't copying directly (or at least, semi-directly, with whatever revisions he sees fit to make) from the books themselves, Thorne is typing out long-winded, white-bread dialogue the voice and diction of which changes little from character to character and which often has characters displaying remarkable, unbelievable levels of self-awareness.

Whereas Rowling managed to tailor her dialogue perfectly to her different characters, to create unique voices for each (using everything from word choice to the rhythm of their speech), Thorne uses a one-voice-fits-all kind of approach. I guess he figures he should leave it to the actors to give his dialogue personality. To some extent, that approach makes sense but it doesn't excuse the absolute lack of personality in the dialogue.

I can imagine that the stage production of the play is fantastic. The budget must be enormous to create underwater scenes, dream sequences, wand duels and all kinds of magical effects. Add to that a total of 75 scenes across four acts and a cast of more than 30 actors playing uncountable numbers of roles.

What really worries me, however, is that The Cursed Play does not even seem to me to be good Harry Potter.

For example, isn't it well established that no witch or wizard could even see the Potters' home in Godric's Hollow while James and Lily were still alive unless they had been told where it is by the Secret Keeper, on account of Dumbledore's powerful Fidelius Charm? So how do Scorpius and Albus look in its windows when they arrive to intercept Delphi?

And isn't it also well established that Polyjuice Potion takes months to brew? If so, then how do Scorpius, Albus and Delphi manage to get some for their highly derivative incursion into the Ministry? And why do they ever consider using it in Godric's Hollow?

And, although never clear, isn't it true that Harry's scar hurt because 1) he had a bit of Voldemort's soul inside him and 2) Voldemort was either nearby or really emotional? So how come Harry's scar hurts in this book when the bit of soul is gone and Voldemort is long dead and nowhere near?

And why does the transfiguration of Harry wear off?

Those are small questions. Even more problematic in my mind are the several scenes of dialogue in which characters attempt to address moral, philosophical or emotional questions left hanging in the original novels. Particularly egregious among these is that awful scene in Act Four, Scene Four where Harry and Dumbledore (through the former headmaster's portrait) manage to say all the things that were left unsaid at the end of The Deathly Hallows and to pledge their eternal love for each other.

It's bad enough that anyone attempts to write a scene like this when Rowling went to such great lengths to create a lovely, balanced, strife-ridden, subtle, often unspoken relationship between the two major characters. It's worse when it's someone of the evidently limited talents of the current playwright.

Perhaps the greatest sin of The Cursed Play is that it puts the lovely subtlety of J.K. Rowling's original novels to a slow, agonizing death.

I'm not sure what's going on with Rowling. For a long time, she seemed prepared to leave Harry Potter behind, to view the seven original novels as perfect and complete. She turned her attentions (and prodigious talents) to other projects, including the creditable series of detective novels she penned under the name Richard Galbraith.

Now, she can't seem to leave Potter alone. We've got a new movie, this new play and, from what I saw when I picked up my copy at my local big-box bookstore, a veritable gift shop full of new Harry Potter paraphernalia, cheap plastic tidbits that years ago Rowling delighted in decrying.

I can learn from Rowling's subtlety and careful planning

One of the reasons I like to read and re-read the Harry Potter novels is because they are so well written. As an aspiring writer myself, I feel I can learn a great deal from how J.K. Rowling both in terms of plotting and in terms of the actual writing.

It has struck me, as I dive into The Goblet of Fire again, how well constructed this story is. We are all very familiar with incredibly dramatic ending of this book, with Harry and Cedric agreeing to share the Triwizard victory, then being instantly transported to the graveyard in Little Hangleton where they encounter, with world-shaking, deadly consequences, Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

What impresses me is how carefully Rowling sets the stage for the dramatic conclusion in the earliest parts of the book, how meticulously she prepares her readers for the fast-paced action that brings the novel to a close.

Take the concept of the "Portkey", for example. We have never seen one before this book. It's new and, as we find out, it is a key aspect of Voldemort's plan to bring Harry to the graveyard. Rowling needs to ensure two things as her readers head into the climax of the book: 1) that we understand and are comfortable with what a Portkey is and how it works; and 2) that she doesn't have to slow down the action and the build-up of suspense late in the novel to explain all that to us.

So J.K. introduces the Portkey to us early in the book, when she can do it slowly, carefully and with a full explanation of what it is and how it works. Its introduction at the top of Stoatshead Hill becomes, in fact, another part of our fascinating and ongoing introduction to the world of witches and wizards.

And, since Harry is as new to that world as we are, Rowling can plausibly have Mr. Weasley explain Portkeys to us (and to Harry) when they are first introduced.

Even more clever is the fact that Rowling chooses a very memorable metaphor to describe how it feels to be transported by a Portkey. It feels like "a hook just behind [your] navel has been suddenly jerked irresistibly forwards." That metaphor is not only incredible effective at conveying a feeling (I can just feel that hook yanking me from the centre of my body) but it is also very memorable in its description.

So memorable, in fact, that when, 500 pages later, Harry and Cedric grasp the Triwizard Cup together, all J.K. has to do is tell us that "Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel" for us to know that the Cup is a Portkey and that Harry and Cedric are on their way somewhere they don't want to go.

Rowling also takes great care to introduce (or re-introduce) us to Cedric Diggory in a much more sympathetic way in this book. Since it is a key to the success of this book that we like Cedric by the end, in order to make his death more dramatic and affecting, it is important that we see him as more than the ridiculously handsome boy who actually beat Harry in Quidditch.

How does J.K. accomplish it? With her usual subtlety and style. Instead of giving us some extended scene where he comes across as weak or even maudlin, Rowling shows Cedric being embarrassed by his father's boasting and attempting to clarify that he at least understood why the Quidditch match had turned out as it had.

Thanks to this very brief moment in the early part of the book, we are much more willing to give Cedric the benefit of the doubt when he gets thrust into the unenviable position of being painted as Hogwart's wronged champion later in the novel.

I learn something from Rowling every time I read one of her books. And The Goblet of Fire contains as many lessons for an aspiring writer as any of them.