Theatre in Review: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Parts I and II (Lyric)If the enormous sign on 43rd Street isn't the tipoff, the enormous scrum of muggles waiting to get inside the Lyric Theatre does it: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child has arrived on Broadway, nearly two years after it took the West End by storm. A Hamilton-size hit in London, it is all but certain to enjoy the same success here, and for good reason -- it is a cracking good story, featuring J. K. Rowling's trademark airtight construction and psychological acuity, which combine to keep us utterly engrossed in this five-hour saga of a new generation of wizards-in-training. And yes, there's plenty of stage magic, all of it breathtaking. But Rowling and company have got their priorities straight: As in the books (and films), character and narrative come first. The play -- written by Jack Thorne, after a story by himself, Rowling, and the director, John Tiffany -- picks up seconds after the final novel in the series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, ends, with the adult Harry and his wife, Ginny, along with the grown-up Hermione and Ron, standing with their children on Platform 9-3/4 at King's Cross Station, waiting for the train to Hogwarts. Albus Severus Potter, named after the two father figures who, for good or ill, shaped Harry's life, is nervously anticipating his first year of school. He is right to feel that way: In a brisk series of short scenes summing up his early Hogwarts experiences, Albus develops into a rolling disappointment, struggling to master charms and spells, and failing to make any friends other than Scorpius Malfoy, son of Draco, Harry's lifelong rival. Albus' problems at school, where he labors constantly in the shadow of Harry's reputation, drive father and son apart. Harry, haunted by the deaths of his parents, hasn't the faintest idea how to deal with a difficult child; Albus, convinced that he is an embarrassment and disappointment to his parents, becomes increasingly truculent. His friendship with Scorpius comes under scrutiny as well, thanks to a long-running rumor that Scorpius is really the son of Voldemort, the dark prince of the novels. Meanwhile, Harry begins to experience terrifying nightmares -- and worse, the famous scar on his forehead begins to hurt once more, something that hasn't happened since the death of Voldemort. The authors based their story on a key incident in the fourth Potter novel, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, in which another Hogwarts student, Cedric Diggory, was killed during a competition known as the Triwizard Tournament. This is a brilliant idea, for The Goblet of Fire marks the point where the novels take a quantum leap in complexity and emotional involvement, and the death of Cedric -- who was merely collateral damage in the plot to restore the dormant Voldemort -- haunts Harry ever after. Desperate to prove himself, Albus gets hold of a time-turner, the handheld time-tripping device that caused so much chaos in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and he and Scorpius travel back to the day of Cedric's death, planning to avert it. With a forbidden device in the hands of two adolescent boys, what could possibly go wrong? As it happens, everything. Their well-intentioned, wildly wrongheaded attempt at rewriting the past unleashes all sorts of havoc, landing them in a series of increasingly appalling alternate universes. Under Tiffany's furiously fast direction, the Harry and Albus plot lines converge with clockwork precision, taking the characters through a series of time-spinning cliffhangers and culminating in a duel on the very night that Voldemort killed Harry's parents -- also known as the event that set the entire saga in motion. It is a tribute to the authors' knack for construction that they can so artfully arrange their events in and around key moments from the books. Rowley's matchless skill at misdirection is put to good use; even when I -- along, I suspect, with much of the audience -- got suspicious about a certain character, it was some time before I grasped that person's motivation, which, as it happens, is a humdinger. (My lips are sealed.) Tiffany's staging features all sorts of exciting set pieces: Harry and Scorpius leaping from a moving Hogwarts train, appearances by the soul-sucking Dementors, and an underwater struggle, the latter two scenes employing the show's elaborate Flying by Foy rigging system. Jamie Harrison has provided all sorts of magical effects: Characters are transformed into others in full audience view; entrances are made via the fireplace in the headmistress' office at Hogwarts; a set of bookshelves swallows up the unwary; a square, drawn on a blackboard, becomes illuminated and opens like a door, leading to a secret hiding place. Certain effects -- including one in which the theatre walls are revealed to contain a hidden code visible only in a certain light -- are technological feats, but a great many more are old-style illusions, delivered with tremendous panache. Tiffany, whose resume includes Let the Right One In, another stark tale of young people and the supernatural, as well the musical Once and the most recent Broadway revival of The Glass Menagerie, was an inspired choice as director, since his productions are marked by strong visual statements and emotional transparency. Indeed, the design and staging are marked by a certain welcome simplicity. Christine Jones' basic set -- a series of gothic arches with clocks built into them -- is spectacular, but many scenes feature only one or two pieces of furniture. Excellent use is made of two stair units, especially in showing how quickly rumors spread at Hogwarts. And Jones implements the train station motif in unexpected ways: A trip to a cemetery features pieces of luggage standing in for the headstones. (The set also features a turntable that is helpful in keeping the plot in movement.) There are many other fine design contributions. Katrina Lindsay's charmingly eccentric costumes combine contemporary and period styles. Gareth Fry's sound design helps establish the supernatural atmosphere, especially the bass tones that rumble throughout the theatre; he also provides solid reinforcement for Imogen Heap's appealing original music. Among other things, the video, by Finn Ross and Ash Woodward, causes the entire set to seemingly shimmer, as in a dream. First among equals is Neil Austin's lighting, which is often calculated to conceal as much as to reveal; without it, many illusions and other bits of staging, especially those making use of kuroko, the black-clad actors used in Kabuki theatre, wouldn't be nearly as effective. The lighting is beautiful in its own right, including the uplighting effects that pick out and add dimension to the details of Jones' scenery; the stunning sidelight looks created by a collection of individual beams, each aimed at a slightly different angle; and the light curtains created by banks of units placed upstage on the deck. The cast combines many of the original London principals with some familiar New York faces. Among the adults, Jamie Parker, looking exactly like what one imagines a forty-year-old Harry would -- you can say the same about the highly capable Poppy Miller as Ginny and Paul Thornley as Ron -- makes his character's torment palpable, especially in his fumbling efforts to reach out to his son. Noma Dumezweni, who, alone among the leads, doesn't resemble her film predecessor, is authoritative as Hermione, who is now the Minister of Magic. Alex Price brings plenty of presence to Draco, who, as always, has a massive chip on his shoulder, thanks to his family's legacy of evil. Jessie Fisher is both ingratiating and mysterious as one of the late Cedric's relatives, who encourages Albus and Scorpius in their mad time-travel adventure. Among the younger generation, Sam Clemmett is almost painfully vulnerable as Albus, especially in his wounding confrontations with his father. Anthony Boyle is outstanding as Scorpius, who grows from a sad, beaten-down loner to a self-confident hero, joining Albus and the four lead adults in taking down the forces of evil one more time. (The speech in which he faults Albus for his self-involvement is one of the most powerful in both plays.) The growing relationship between Albus and Scorpius, as they face one peril after another, provides the action with a solid emotional grounding. New York theatre fans will recognize Geraldine Hughes as Professor McGonagall, who now rules Hogwarts with an iron hand, and as the Trolley Witch, who dispenses sweets on the Hogwarts train; Kathryn Meisle, as Harry's monumentally selfish Aunt Petunia and the egregiously phony, transparently vicious Dolores Umbridge; and Byron Jennings as the acid, yet oddly gallant, professor Severus Snape. (Eerily masked, Jennings also makes an appearance as Voldemort.) As you can see, the play's time-hopping structure allows for cameos by most of the books' most popular characters, including Hagrid, Moaning Myrtle, and Dumbledore, the last appearing in several paintings to offer advice to Harry. If this last sentence leaves you baffled, this might not be the show for you. The program offers a summary of the Potter saga for the uninitiated, and there is also a glossary of Potter terms. But I can't guarantee that if you haven't read the books you will fully grasp the plot. Then again, given the production's box office receipts, you have plenty of time to read all seven novels before arriving at the Lyric -- and they are enormous fun to tuck into. The best thing about Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is that its creators refuse to bombard the audience with unnecessary displays of technology and stupefying special effects. Technical wizardry is used sparingly and in support of a touching and suspenseful story that insists on the power of friendship and features several lead characters who struggle with absent, distant, or difficult fathers. After all the sound and fury, the play ends quietly, with a tender, intimate scene between Harry and Albus. In its emotional payoff it is as magical as anything else in the show. -- David Barbour 
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