There’s a new kind of magic on display in Hollywood.

The first United States national tour of “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” opened Wednesday night at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre in a dazzling, enchanting thrill ride of a production.

Directed by John Tiffany, who helped conceive the story with playwright Jack Thorne, “Cursed Child” exercises a masterclass in theatrical innovation, expanding the bounds of what has been thought possible when considering “theatrical magic.”

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Thorne’s original play, a two-part, six-and-a-half-hour behemoth that premiered on the West End in 2016 and subsequently on Broadway in 2018, has been reduced to a quick three hours.

The play, written as an addition to J.K. Rowling’s best-selling “Harry Potter” series, picks up where Rowling’s novels leave off — 19 years after the tumultuous climax of the series.

Harry Potter (John Skelley), now a middle-aged father of three, is married to Ginny Weasley (Trish Lindstrom) and is getting ready to send his son, Albus Potter (Emmet Smith), off to Hogwarts.

On the train to school, Albus meets Scorpius Malfoy (Aidan Close), the son of Draco Malfoy, Harry’s infamous school rival. Albus and Scorpius, much like the play, find themselves following in the oversized footsteps of their predecessors, and the two instantly hit it off. When both boys are sorted into Slytherin, Hogwarts’ house with a legacy for evil, it seems their own legacies are all but destined to be entwined. This causes a rift between Harry and his son, leading them to grow distant over Albus’ first few school years.

This exposition rapidly plays out within the play’s first 20 minutes. A succession of dances, montages and short sequences comprise Albus’ first three years at Hogwarts. While the fractured central relationship between Harry and Albus is shown in a few brief scenes, the dynamic isn’t given much immediate depth as the play accelerates to reach its main plot. As the first act continues, however, the characters find their emotional ground, the scenes extend and the production settles into a comfortable pacing.

The play’s central plot centers around the use of time-turners, magical time-traveling devices, allowing the play to travel down memory lane and revisit pivotal characters and moments from the novels. In this way, the play does fall into moments of fan service but is able to dig itself out by returning the focus to its two young protagonists.

Close, expertly leaning into Scorpius’ outsized reactions and ample enthusiasm, provides extended periods of comedic relief. Smith, as the rebellious and moody Albus, is a rational foil to Scorpius’ restless energy. With remarkable chemistry, both actors are responsible for much of the play’s emotional core, crafting a strong, believable bond between two unlikely friends.

Harry is awkward but warm-hearted, and Skelley is able to find a genuine line between authoritative and sympathetic, giving a deeply grounded performance. As Delphi Diggory, Albus and Scorpius’ new friend with deceitful intentions, Julia Nightingale is a standout, transforming innocent spunk into something more sinister.

The large ensemble, with many actors taking on dual roles, creates a lively and boisterous wizarding world atmosphere.

Steven Hoggett’s beautiful movement direction fills the transitions between scenes with emotionally poignant, synchronized choreography. Draped in cloaks, ensemble members dance their way through scene changes, whisking away staircases and beds, keeping the play’s energy brisk and light. Imogen Heap’s ambient music scores these moments, setting the show audibly in a somewhat vague, musical future. 

On the level of spectacle, the production delivers tenfold. Christine Jones’ magnificent set might as well serve as the central character of this production, creating much of the magical effects that dominate this experience. Starting off as a large King’s Cross train station, Jones’ stage constantly reinvents itself into a forest, a church and a graveyard.

For die-hard fans of the original novels, the play successfully continues the adventurous nature of the series while providing a closing note to many of its iconic characters. Thorne has done his research, and he has no problem showing you through his characters.

Where the play suffers, however, is in its rushed and occasionally disjointed pacing. Many individual scenes are simply included to provide pivotal information for the next — there are many quick scenes of brief deliberation and immediate resolution. The first act moves with alacrity, while the second act feels overstuffed with plot. In cutting down the play to its current two-act iteration, Thorne has trimmed much of the fat and left the skeletal structure of the plot to carry the audience along.

In this sense, the production feels like a colossal, wonderful machine that provides emotional catharsis through appropriate cues, as well as efficient action and adventure sequences to immerse the audience. The overall epic scale of the play, complementary performances and technical wizardry keep it wildly entertaining and constantly astounding.