Dance on, Play On!

There's a character in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, or What You Will, named Duke Orsino. You know who else is named Duke? Duke Ellington. Play On!, currently playing at Signature Theatre, conceived by Sheldon Epps, with a book by Cheryl L. West and music by Duke Ellington, is loosely based on Twelfth Night. It's Harlem in the 1920s and Viola (Jalisa Williams) wants to be a songwriter. Her uncle Jester (Wesley J. Barnes) scoffs at the idea of a woman being a songwriter, so she decides to approach the famous Duke at Vy-man, and quickly falls for him.

Duke, meanwhile, is in love with Lady Liv (Awa Sal Secka), a performer at the Cotton Club, who puts her staff (orchestra conductor Sweets [Derrick D. Truby, Jr.], dresser Miss Mary [Kanysha Williams], and club manager Rev [Chuckie Benson]) through the ringer. Duke sends Vy(man) to bring a song to Liv, who takes a fancy to the young man. Hijinks ensue.

As soon as Barnes and the ensemble came on stage at the top of the show wearing tap shoes, I was in. You can't go wrong with Duke Ellington music, of course, and the dancing in this is incredible; Barnes is fantastic. "Take the 'A' Train" is a masterpiece; the combination of the song and the choreography is excellent. I just wish there were more tapping! 

This really is a loose adaptation; I expected it to hew a bit closer to Shakespeare, but the play is really just an inspiration for this. There's no twin brother, various characters are combined, some beats echo the Shakespeare, but it's honestly best to put it out of your mind. (Like, I spent a large chunk of the first act wondering when Vy's twin brother would show up. Spoiler: He doesn't.) 

Unfortunately, a lot of the plot didn't particularly work for me. Vy is our main character, but I couldn't really tell why she fell for Duke. Lady Liv is awful to most of the people around her, but I think we're supposed to forgive her for that after a monologue about how everyone only sees her as a performer not a person. Except that we've seen how she treats the people who work for her, and I can't forgive it that easily. Duke doesn't really have a personality other than "in love with Lady Liv"; they have a history, but we never learn anything about it. We actually don't get any backstory for pretty much any characters.

Wesley J. Barnes as Jester and Derrick D. Truby Jr. as Sweets. Photo by Christopher Mueller.

The supporting characters are a lot more fun. Sweets, Mary, Jester, and Rev are all wonderful. Sweets and Mary have a falling-out that's unconvincingly patched up, but I honestly didn't care because their relationship at least had some depth. I'm intrigued by Rev--I want his full backstory!--but we again aren't given much info. All we know about Jester is that he's with one woman and cheats on her, but his tap dancing is so good that I don't even care. Sweets and Jester's "Rocks in my Bed" (pictured) is super fun.

It's all a bit frothy. There are glimpses of deeper stories and storytelling, but there's no there there. It's a show you'll watch and enjoy, but stopping to think about makes the problems with the book all pop up. But honestly, the dancing, choreography, singing, and music are all enough to make it worth the ticket.

Not one of Weiner's greatest, but still a good time

⭐⭐⭐⭐

More of a 3.5, but Jennifer Weiner's The Griffin Sisters' Greatest Hits was an excellent book for reading on vacation--I read this on long train rides and in a hotel at the end of long days of touristing, and this was perfect for that.

Zoe Grossberg wants to be a famous singer; she has the look but not the talent. Cassie Grossberg is a music prodigy, but is overweight and (probably) neurodivergent. Zoe talks Cassie into performing once; naturally this leads to incredible success, which ends abruptly after a year. The book jumps between 2024, when Zoe's daughter Cherry is pursuing fame herself and the sisters are estranged, and the story of the Griffin Sisters (because obviously they couldn't be the Grossberg Sisters).

I really enjoyed the story of the band and their rise and the peeks into the process of becoming a successful band in the early 00s. However, the big knock on this book is the somewhat pat characterization, particularly when Zoe and Cassie are in their early 20s. Their relationship was interesting, but they themselves at that point come across mostly single-dimensional. Even later, in 2024, Cassie remains a bit flat, possibly because she's hidden herself away. (Really, Cassie doesn't have much of a personality at any point in the book, which is a bummer.) Zoe is now a PTA mom, with three kids and a stepson (and, honestly, I probably could've done without that subplot). Her story after the end of the Griffin Sisters was probably the most interesting part of the book. Cherry is consistently fairly awful, even giving grace for her being an 18-year-old.

That said, I really liked the complexities of the various relationships--Zoe and Cassie, Zoe and Cherry, the various bandmates, Zoe and Cassie's family (with their parents, with their great-aunt), Zoe and her husband. I also really enjoyed the book's overall vibe.

So, not Weiner's best, but still well worth the read. Also, I read the hardcover version of this with really cool graphics on the sides of the pages so it looked neat when it was closed. Good job to the production team. Also, I rememeber Weiner asking on social media for potential band names in the early 00s, so it was neat to see that come to fruition.

Not shying away from the "crime" in "true crime"

⭐⭐⭐

Essentially, Murderland: Crime and Bloodlust in the Time of Serial Killers is Caroline Fraser making the argument that the rise of serial killers in the 1960s and 1970s is because of pollution. She largely focuses on sexual serial killers in the Pacific Northwest, linking their depravities to the presence of smelters and leaded gasoline. She largely focuses on Ted Bundy, that most quintessential of serial killers, but discusses many others, including the Green River Killer, I-5 Killer, BTK, and Night Stalker.

Unlike the trend in recent true crime, Fraser very much focuses on the killers, their lives and upbringings--logically, since she's arguing that the pollution in their childhoods helped make them the monsters they became. She intersperses their stories with that of her own upbringing just outside Seattle, as well as with the story of ASARCO, a mining, smelting, and refining company. There's also a lot about the bridges around Seattle, particularly the dangerous Lacey V. Murrow Floating Bridge. Like, there is just a LOT of discussing the various accidents on it.

In detail. Fatal accidents, non-fatal accidents. Fraser writes about what happened in a lot of them. Similarly, she does NOT shy away from getting into the details of what the serial killers did to their victims. I read a lot of this book in a fairly compressed amount of time, and I going to the point where I just kind of let the horrors wash over me; it's really too much to contemplate.

And it felt unnecessary. Fraser's language at times was a bit flowery for me and the way she wrote about some of the attacks and murders and deaths struck me the wrong way. The level of detail she gave just seemed gratuitous. It was a LOT to read.

What Fraser did well was make the argument that companies like ASARCO should be regarded as equally evil as men like Ted Bundy. They knowingly polluted the air, the water, the land; they covered up the proof. They killed many more than the serial killers could dream of.

Did Fraser succeed in making the connection between companies like ASARCO and the rise of depraved serial killers? It's hard to tell because the book is case after case of correlation, which isn't the same as causation. Fraser focuses on the Pacific Northwest (and, for some reason, something called the Olympic-Wallowa Lineament, basically a "zone of crustal weakness" [p. 3], which Fraser refers to as "a route wreathed in bodies" [p. 4], as though the ground itself causes evil), but doesn't do a good job of comparing the emissions in Tacoma to those of similar facilities in other parts of the country (except El Paso). Plus, there are a lot of other reasons we've seen fewer serial killers (though how they're defined seems nebulous at best) in the past 30 or 40 years, like the increase of security cameras and people having phones on them and the "stranger danger" narratives of the 1980s that have been ingrained in children for years.

Still, I appreciated having the narrative laid out for me, and I honestly didn't know a ton about Ted Bundy (just sort of the broad strokes of his story and whatever I learned from The Stranger Beside Me: Ted Bundy: The Shocking Inside Story). The book was engrossing, I'll certainly give it that. An interesting addition to the true crime canon.  

Another winner from Emily Henry

⭐⭐⭐⭐

An enjoyable read. Like the other Emily Henry books I've enjoyed more, the two leads of Great Big Beautiful Life, Alice and Hayden, don't have a previous relationship, so we don't spend the book having flashbacks and only gradually finding out what went wrong (and usually being underwhelmed by what happened). Instead, we have Alice and Hayden on a small island on the coast of Georgia near Savannah, competing to tell the life story of Margaret Ives, heiress to a media empire and widow of music star. Yes, there are echoes of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.

Both Hayden and Alice can sense that Margaret is holding something back, but they can't discuss it. Instead, they get to know each other. It's a sunshine/grumpy trope, but Alice quickly gets past Hayden's outer layer and Alice's perkiness is never particularly annoying; plus, Henry does a good job giving both character the backstory that their personalities require. Alice can sometimes be a bit frustrating in how she interacts with her mother, but it's both completely realistic and completely earned. 

I continue to appreciate Henry's handling of the relationships of her protagonists and their families, both good and bad. She writes love stories, but the heart of Margaret's story is that of her family (not her relationship with her husband); Hayden and Alice's relationship is well-developed (if possibly being a bit racier than I would've liked, honestly), but their families and friends are also crucial.

On a more minor note, one of the running jokes/subplots is Alice and Hayden's heights--Alice is 5'9" and Hayden is 6'3" and there are not-infrequent comments about how, for example, it makes sitting in a booth across from each other awkward because they're both tall and their legs are always knocking into each other. And though that might happen at particularly small booths...look, I'm 5'9" and my husband is 6'2" and this is something we've literally never encountered. 

Even so, well-played, all around. 

This blog is an Eleanor Roosevelt stan

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I've loved Eleanor Roosevelt ever since I randomly picked up a biography of her in elementary school. (That I randomly picked out a biography to read for fun as a 4th grader tells you a lot of what you need to know about me as a person.) I've read a lot about her over the years, but it's been a minute since I read a biography of just her. (And, confession, I still haven't read Eleanor Roosevelt, Volume 3: The War Years and After, 1939-1962. I own it. I just haven't read it.)

In his single-volume biography, simply titled Eleanor, David Michaelis focuses a lot on Eleanor, the person, as opposed to her many accomplishments or events in her life. It veers into being more of a psychological biography; obviously the events of her life are covered, but there's a lot of focus on her relationships and why she relates to people the way she does. There were times, particularly during FDR's presidency, that entire years were skipped with barely a blink. Which honestly wouldn't be an issue, except that Michaelis will mention something in passing that hadn't come up before. In that sense, despite it being a fairly compact biography, it probably wouldn't be great for people who aren't already familiar with the beats of Eleanor's life and FDR's presidency. It does a good job of analysis but isn't a good introduction.

Also, it was a bit weird what relationships he focused on. Obviously Eleanor's relationships with her father and Franklin are the big two. Michaelis writes about ER's relationship with Lorena Hickock, mostly to be like, "It was TOTALLY A SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP!!!" and is clearly using diaries/letters to make that assertion. Which, on the one hand, I get. I definitely remember reading biographies of Eleanor that might obliquely reference her relationship with Hick but be like, "But that's just how ladies of Eleanor's age would write to their friends!" On the other hand, I think it was really just how he wrote it that was weird. I don't know. And he honestly spent a lot less time on Hick than I would expect; ditto Earl Miller, another significant relationship for ER.

I particularly felt that ER's relationship with Marion Dickerman and Nancy Cook really got short shrift. Again, this is another time when he alludes to a falling out and problems in their relationship, but we don't get the details about it (some of which I know from other biographies). These bothered me because Michaelis clearly did a ton of research and I'm sure he knows loads about these various relationships; I just wanted more of them.

He does spend a TON of time on ER's relationship with David Gurewitsch, her doctor/object of affection late in life. (To the detriment, I feel, of Joe Lash, who sort of fades out of the picture after WWII.) I didn't know a ton about him (mostly that he existed, he and his wife shared a house with ER at the end of her life, and she was fond of him), so getting more information was helpful. But it felt like he got too much attention, particularly compared to others in Eleanor's life. I can't tell how significant he actually was because I feel like this was the story Michaelis wanted to tell.

It feels like I'm nitpicking; truth be told, I did quite enjoy this books. Michaelis's affection for Eleanor is clear throughout the book. He sympathizes with her but doesn't shy away from her flaws. He includes a number of pretty awful quotes from her about Jewish and Black people; she became champions for both groups, but certainly wasn't born that way. One of the remarkable things about Eleanor is how she grew into First Lady of the World, into FDR's conscience.

I also appreciated learning more about her time after FDR's death. I read too many books as a kid that had a final chapter (inevitably titled "On Her Own," after ER's memoir, On My Own) about her life after FDR died, usually focused pretty solely on her work with the UN. She did SO. MUCH. MORE. (while FDR was around, too, to be fair) and I love getting the details about it.

Would I recommend this book? Absolutely, though with the caveat that it would be helpful to know some of the details of Eleanor's life already. It's a solid, compact biography of my favorite historical figure.

Key Quotes

Advice from her Auntie Bye, which forever guided her life
"You will never be able to please everyone. No matter what you do, my dear, some people are going to criticize you. ... If you are satisfied in your mind that you are right, then you need never worry about criticism" (p. 82)

On Eleanor's reaction to being hurt (relatable)
"When hurt, she suppressed her feelings, and when anyone tried to come closer, whether to help or to hurt more, her only instrument of resistance was to turn away and sulk" (p. 104)

Eleanor trying to cope with her own life
"It was almost as though I had erected someone outside myself who was the president's wife. I was lost somewhere deep down inside myself" (p. 383)

"Work had always been her antidote for depression. Loneliness, she maintained, was a state of mind or of the soul and therefore untreatable, simply 'the lot of all human beings.'" (p. 493)

On Franklin and Eleanor
"As a couple, they were foils. He endured her seriousness and intensity as she endured his pranks and swordplay. ... He was not intentionally unkind, but he could be cold; his sense of fun was often cruel; and the more defenseless the victim, the less Franklin could resist the impulse to bully" (p. 107)

"She yearned for closeness, and yet her own responses prevented it. She would never be kittenishly playful with him; he would never confront hard truth with her. They could scarcely ever relax with each other." (p. 145)

Their son Elliott "saw FDR as a great illusionist, and it was his mother who made the illusion stick" (p. 304)

Eleanor, during FDR's presidency: "I realize more and more that FDR's a great man, and he is nice, but as a person, I'm a stranger, and I don't want to be anything else!" (p. 334)

Eleanor on immigration
The Immigration Act of 1924--"bringing to an end the America that, as Eleanor rightly recognized, 'had profited a thousandfold by what they have brought us, many of them representing the best brains of the countries from which they came'" (p. 245)

Criticism of ER
Steve Early, a press secretary of FDR: "Sometimes I think the Constitution should require that the President be a bachelor" (p. 334)

Eleanor quotes showing how awesome she was
"Her speeches to college students sounded subversive: 'Study history realistically'--'Do not always believe your country is right'--'You'll love your country just as much, the same as you love your parents, although you might not always believe them to be right'" (p. 337)

"If ever any Americans go to a concentration camp, American democracy will go with them" (p. 394)

 

Bananaball in Baltimore

If you've been on social media the past couple years, you've probably seen clips of the Savannah Bananas. They appeal to me for obvious reasons--combining baseball and choreographed dancing? AMAZING. Naturally I was all in.

The Bananas came to Camden Yards this past weekend and we were lucky enough to get tickets (thanks to my Orioles season ticket plan; I didn't win the Bananas lottery). (They were also really awful seats; we had pretty much no say in where the tickets were--all I could indicate was the $40 right field upper deck because that was, I think, all that was available. I'm still pretty miffed at where we wound up, but oh well.)

It was a really good time. When they go to MLB parks, the Bananas line up former players to make cameos in the game; we got Adam Jones and former manager Buck Showalter, plus the band All Time Low. The crowd went absolutely nuts for all of them. 

It was pretty overwhelming. There was literally always music playing. Various "cast members" (Bananas staff and players not in the night's game--the pitcher with the hat above showed up in our section a few times) would appear in the stands randomly for things like a sing-off. The game would be actively going on and the Banana mascot would be wandering around the outfield, or a group of players would run down to the foul pole to climb it. There'd be a brief pause as players did an elaborate dance before an at-bat (and having watched countless of these online, it was interesting watching the logistics of the filming):

The Bananas do a dance for an at-bat at the game on Friday, August 1 at Camden Yards.

For the game itself, players would periodically make trick plays. It was very difficult to figure things out about what was going on during the game; there was only one place in the park that showed balls, strikes, and outs. (It also showed trick plays and the clock--Banana games have a limit of 2 hours) I had tried to remind myself of the rules specific to Bananaball, but a lot of them slipped my mind, which meant I was very confused when the Bananas left the field after scoring a run in a late inning (due to the complexities of the scoring system, which I will not bore you with). 

I had fun singing along and watching the million things going on. But I don't feel like I need to see them again for at least 5 years or so. It was all spectacle and craziness and I liked it, but I don't know that I'd call it exciting. I'm sure there are people with favorite players, but it's not like the result of the game mattered. (I can't actually find the Bananas' win-loss record for the year.) The Bananas PTB get offended when people compare them to the Harlem Globetrotters, saying that the games are real and not scripted (other than the various antics). And while they may not know who's going to win, the issue is, it doesn't matter who wins.

I chatted with a friend who isn't a baseball fan and went, and I said that people weren't invested in the game. She pointed out the many people in Bananas gear, which is true, but I couldn't discern much of a difference in crowd noise when the Bananas scored. People have Bananas gear because they like the concept and the spectacle; I don't think they particularly cared about--or wore involved in--the game on the field. 

I do wonder what it would be like to see a game in the Bananas' own stadium in Savannah. I'm pretty sure they do have season ticket holders; there probably are people who are emotionally invested. But those aren't the majority attending games at MLB (or NFL) stadiums. And clearly enough people are watching for ESPN to broadcast their games.

I also wonder about their staying power. They've been around for 5 years; I wonder what they'll look like in another 5. 

A lovely end to a charming series

⭐⭐⭐⭐ 

Dear Miss Lake is a fitting end to the 4-book Emmy Lake Chronicles by A.J. Pearce. We've experienced World War II with Emmy Lake Mayhew, from the early days of the Blitz, when Emmy joined the Woman's Friend magazine team writing advice, to the late days of the war. It's 1944 and Emmy and her Woman's Friend family know that the end of the war is getting close; even so, that doesn't mean life has gotten easier for any of them. They've lost friends and family, they have loved ones fighting, and they're trying to figure out what life in peace times will look like.

I have so appreciated this series for showing life on the home front in England and how it's highlighted the experience of women as they take up unexpected jobs and positions. Pearce manages to balance more global concerns with everyday life, showing wartime weddings and Christmas fairs. I've also really liked the glimpses at Emmy and co. having to balance writing the stories they want with publishing what the government wants them to say; there's a tension at trying to show that "Keep calm and carry on" attitude without seeming like the magazine workers have no sympathy for the hardships their readers are experiencing.

Pearce continues to have Emmy walk the fine line of being a naturally optimistic, driven person but not being irritating. She's chipper without being twee. And I have no doubt that I'll go back and reread The Emmy Lake Chronicles time after time; it manages to be a comfort read even as it tackles heavy subjects. Emmy is someone with whom you want to spend time.

The first three books in the series are Dear Mrs. Bird, Yours Cheerfully, and Mrs. Porter Calling, and all are very much worth a read; they provide insights into different aspects of the war, including life in London during the Blitz and what life was like for women factory workers. And because I work in publishing myself (though in a quite different sector!), I loved the scenes throughout the series about running the magazine.

Many thanks to Scribner and NetGalley for the advance copy in return for my honest review.

Of racism and family

The theater world is deep in conversation about the announcement of Andrew Barth Feldman to replace Darren Criss in Maybe Happy Ending. The musical, which is about two lifelike "helper bots," is set in Korea and the producers leaned into the Asian background of the show during their Tony campaign. The two leads in the show, Criss and Helen Shen, are both Asian; Criss's standby is also Asian. Andrew Barth Feldman is not.

I am not Asian; I have not seen Maybe Happy Ending, though I have heard good things about it and will undoubtedly see it when it tours. I do think the conversation is interesting, and I understand the arguments on both sides; I just hope it doesn't wind up hurting the show itself.

It did make me think of the play Yellow Face, by David Henry Hwang, which I recently watched on PBS (and which is not related to the novel by R.F. Kuang). That play uses another casting controversy as its springboard, when Jonathan Pryce was cast as the Engineer in Miss Saigon, in both the original West End and Broadway productions. The Engineer is half-French, half-Vietnamese; Pryce is neither. Yellow Face is about Hwang writing and putting on a play, Face Value, about the controversy--it's a farce (the character DHH winds up hiring a white actor to play an Asian character in Face Value), but it's very much about race and politics and family and how they all intertwine.

I also saw DHH's Soft Power at Signature Theatre last year, in which he also has himself as a character; DHH was stabbed, and he incorporates that into the musical, which is largely about a Chinese producer wanting to put on a show to make people in the U.S. like China more. Hillary Clinton is a character and it was both incredibly upsetting but also somewhat cathartic to have seen that in the months leading up to the 2024 election.

What really got me about Yellow Face, and what has stuck with me since I watched it, is the attitude of the character of DHH's father. He's an immigrant who has built a bank and he fits the stereotype of the ultra-patriotic American immigrant. His faith in his son, his faith in his adopted country, his faith in his ability to bootstrap himself to success are what have been running through my mind.

Daniel Dae Kim in Yellow Face. Photo by Joan Marcus.

Similarly, I walked away from Soft Power thinking of how images have power, and how American exceptionalism can affect everyone. The rise of anti-Asian hate crimes in the wake of covid (though the actual event that inspired the play, and the play itself, are both set in 2016) and whether that affects the electorate in a meaningful way--and what it means to the rest of the world, watching.

I also recently read All That's Left Unsaid, by Tracey Lien, about an Australian-Vietnamese woman looking into the murder of her brother. It's really an exploration of generational trauma, the lives of immigrants and refugees, and the friendships and familial relationships that exist in those circumstances. We get to hear from the people who fled Vietnam, their kids (some of whom were born in refugee camps, others born before--or after--their immigration), people who interacted with them all. It's a perspective on Vietnam-era refugees that I wasn't at all familiar with; being in the U.S., most of what we hear about is the U.S., but it makes perfect sense that a lot of southeast Asians would flee to Australia.

Ky's relationship with her best friend Minnie is at the center of the story. Ky is more a straight-and-narrow kid, wanting to do well at school and please her parents and behave. Minnie questions everything and everyone, in a way that I found both admirable and frustrating.

I don't really have anything tying this together, other than the importance of the arts to help people see new perspectives. Whether that's a book or a play, serious or a farce, there's nothing like the arts to make people's worlds larger.

JUST SING ALREADY

I have, of course, been watching The Gilded Age, which is now in its third season on HBO and has been picked up for a fourth. It's from Julian Fellowes, who also did Downton Abbey and Gosford Park. It's not as good as those; there are far too many characters, particularly since the action focuses on two households and have the family and servants for both. There are definitely storylines where the characters appear on the screen and I'm just like, "Ugh, I don't care!" 

The thing is...the actors. I'm not saying that literally every one of them has at least a Tony nomination, but most of them do. One of the storylines I don't care about involves the chef at one of the houses, and I can't get too mad at it because the chef is played by Douglas Sills, who I saw in The Scarlet Pimpernel in the 90s and actually met at the stagedoor and let me tell you, he was the loveliest person.

However, all this also means that I spend every episode muttering about how I just want everyone to start singing. This has gone into hyperdrive this season, because while Audra McDonald--AUDRA MCDONALD!!!--has been a regular for the entire run, BRIAN STOKES MITCHELL just showed up this season. Every time they appear on the screen together, I practically start vibrating on the coach from the strength of my desire for the two of them to start dueting.

On the positive side, the actors themselves are very aware of it. Morgan Spector, who plays George Russell (and who doesn't have a ton of musical theater in his background, though Wikipedia says he did a tour of The Lion King), said in a Variety interview

“You know what we should do? There’s the British tradition of the Christmas special,” Spector tells me on this week’s episode of the “Just for Variety” podcast. “If we could have a Christmas special, then we could have some singing and it would be great. Give the people what they want.”  

Someone needs to get on this. 

The Cursed Child is probably the least interesting of the main characters in his titular play

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is a trash person. 

 

I saw Harry Potter and the Cursed Child in London in 2016. It was still in previews, a couple months before the script was published. This was a few days before the Brexit vote. I saw it again on Broadway, on February 29, 2020. I'm hoping that I saw it again this weekend isn't a portent. Or maybe that I saw the one-play version will bode better for me?

 

Here's my initial reaction, from 2016 (I held off on my thoughts until it officially opened for review by the press): 

So, as stated when I saw this a month ago, I really enjoyed the play. As some of these [reviews] say, the actual stagecraft was more impressive than the plot. The story itself was enjoyable (though I had a problem with one BIG plot point and one thing that contradicted the books).

 

It seems that the reviews largely ignore Harry's plot. In fairness, the action of the play revolves around Albus, Harry's son, but Harry's journey of dealing with what he went through at Hogwarts is present throughout the two plays. Those are the sections of the plays that I can't wait to read. There are loads of articles of "I grew up with Harry Potter" about kids who grew up reading him--and he was their contemporary. But now the man on stage is mine; we're the same age, and it's fascinating seeing him at that stage of life, dealing with his past and the traumas therein but also dealing with parenthood and a job full of paperwork.

 

The play will be interesting to read, and I imagine people won't enjoy the script as much as audiences enjoy the play. The stagecraft, as mentioned, is fantastic, and there's a lot of staging that was just so cool--and I don't mean the magic stuff. The movement of the actors was SO good. There were large chunks that were totally extraneous but really neat to watch, basically just of people moving around. (I was like, "I don't need 5 minutes of transition from Platform 9 3/4 to Hogwarts, but it's neat to watch, so...never mind.")

 

I do have to second whichever review(s?) highlighted Scorpius. He's a well-drawn, nuanced character who is probably better formed than any of the other new characters.

 

In some ways, I do wish it had been a book. We're missing a lot, and not just by not knowing what people are thinking, but by missing the throwaway exposition about random characters. There's more about the world of Harry Potter in 2016 that I want to know.

Do I remember what plot points I had issues with? I do not. (I think it had something to do with Delphi's plan.) Anyway, this still pretty much stands. I was concerned that the move from two plays to one would mean losing a lot of those scenes of movement, but happily those bits are still in there. It's just very cool to watch; the effects and tricks are fantastic.

John Skelley and Emmet Smith as Harry and Albus Potter. Photo by Matthew Murphy.

Watching it, I didn't notice specific things missing, but I found myself thinking that there was more Harry in the original version. In a helpful rundown of the changes made, I found I was right. The two-play version, which is still playing in London, has a bunch of flashbacks from Harry's childhood as well as more scenes of adult Harry having nightmares. Which is a bummer, because as noted above, I really liked getting to know adult Harry and seeing how his incredibly traumatic childhood and adolescence affected him in adulthood. There are some other scenes about the adults that are missing, which is a shame, but I can't blame playwright Jack Thorne for wanting to focus on the titular cursed child.

The other change that I noticed was how they tweaked the relationship of Albus and Scorpius. It wasn't huge--just some adjusted language, mostly--but their relationship went from one where you could interpret it as romantic or not to one that is pretty clearly romantic, but in a way that makes complete sense for two adolescent boys. I thought that change was really well done.

Scorpius remains probably the most interesting character in the show. I thought that actor Aidan Close played it a bit too broadly and it bothered me, but when I mentioned it to my Bonus Sister, who I went with, she said she really liked it--he was such a contrast to the completely buttoned-up Draco, which was a fantastic observation.

Overall, Cursed Child remain an amazing show to experience. I totally understand people not wanting to see the show because they don't want to support Rowling; that's completely fair. Also, the story itself is a bit weak. But still, actually seeing it live is a great time. (I will say that I'd probably recommend doing so on Broadway, where there's a dedicated theater, which means that some effects are more immersive than what can be done in a touring production.)