Whether “Ragtime” is presented in huge productions (as in its 1998 premiere) or modest (the 2009 revival), the musical, adapted from EL Doctorow’s kaleidoscopic 1975 novel, resonates with the directness, passion and allegorical weight of an American folk epic.
Lear deBessonet opens her tenure as artistic director of Lincoln Center Theater with an expanded and exceptional version of the concert-plus production she staged at New York City Center during the weeks surrounding last fall’s presidential election. It is a wise choice given the positive reception it received, the panoramic scale of the exhibition and the still vital themes of the work.
It’s a thrilling experience, even if on the vast stage of the Vivian Beaumont Theater this musical spectacle seems a little cramped. Not that the musical needs sumptuous sets, but it requires a breathtaking staging that lives up to its aspirations. Here this is only achieved intermittently.
Writer Terrence McNally has cleverly adapted Doctorow’s dense historical novel that, from the start, seemed destined to be a musical. (Its title alone would land the film rights.) But due to the book’s multitude of characters and stories, this was no easy task. (The 1981 film version was far from a commercial triumph.)
Building on Doctorow’s stylish, cool storytelling and exuberant conceit, McNally streamlined the event-filled book into a clear, coherent, dynamic creation for the stage.
The music unites this saga’s interconnected stories and expands its passions, with a sumptuous score by composer Stephen Flaherty and lyricist Lynn Ahrens that draws from a wide range of American styles, idioms and amalgamations, even as the second act becomes more dissonant. Special mention also goes to William David B John’s lush orchestrations and the show’s magnificent choral work.
Director deBessonet’s fluid staging follows three disparate groups: an upper-middle-class white family, an African-American couple, and a newly emigrated Jewish widower and his young daughter. They all face seismic changes in their lives at the turn of the last century. Dramatic changes are also occurring in the United States, as “Ragtime” addresses important issues such as racism, immigration, class, industrialization, the rise of labor unions, and the changing world of women and popular culture.
It’s a heavy load to balance, on top of a multitude of symbols and metaphors. But the lead actors manage to fill in the broad strokes of their archetypal characters (most with generic nicknames) with finesse as they adapt, embrace, rebel, or are overcome by the chaos of a fast-paced age.
From his suburban perch, the imperious Father (Colin Donnell) fails to hear or understand the music of change, particularly the new syncopated sounds of ragtime that trip up the inevitability of rhythm, creating a new tempo for the times.
However, Mother (Cassie Levy, splendid) appreciates this new music that accompanies her transformative story arc. She moves from a devoted 19th century wife and mother (singing the picturesque “Goodbye, My Love”) to a 20th century woman finally finding the power of her own agency (a resounding “Back to Before”).
His younger brother (Ben Levi Ross, funny, sad and captivating) also yearns for something more than privileged comfort and finds purpose and inspiration in activist Emma Goldman (Shaina Taub, who brings warmth to the turmoil). Mother’s Little Boy (Nick Barrington, with humor and composure) is a curious observer of the changes taking place around him. He is also clairvoyant – he foresees the triggering event of a world war – giving the work a touch of prophecy better integrated into the novel.
The second story follows the journey of Latvian immigrant Tateh (Brandon Uranowitz) and his young daughter (Tabitha Lawing) from the tenements of New York to industrial exploitation in an industrial city to his reinvention as a populist filmmaker in a burgeoning industry. Uranowitz’ is both tender and tough in his struggles and triumph, capped by a chronicle of his character’s rise in a dazzling “Buffalo Nickel Photoplay Inc.”
The main driving force behind these intertwined stories is the tale of Coalhouse Walker Jr. (Joshua Henry, simply superb), a charismatic and successful musician, and Sarah (Nichelle Lewis), whom he loved, lost and found again, only to have tragedy befall them both. Lewis delicately composes the character’s difficult emotional swings, from madness to recovery to hope and despair. But it’s Henry’s commanding presence, rich emotions and powerful voice that anchor the show while making the production soar.
Even though the score is heavy on anthems and the seriousness still looms large, there are moments in the series that are transcendent. The opening number remains stunning as choreographer Ellenore Scott finds new ways to delineate all the major and minor characters and introduce the tensions that will further tighten throughout the show.
These special moments include Coalhouse wooing Sarah out of her bedroom with his charming “New Music”; their love duet, “Wheels of a Dream”; the contrasting quests of Father and Tateh in “Journey On”; the passion of Younger Brother in “The Night Goldman Spoke in Union Square” and, with Goldman singing what the young man cannot articulate, “He Wanted to Say”; and Allison Blackwell as Sarah’s friend, tearing through the first act closer “Til We Reach That Day” with astute measure.
The show’s creators also know that levity is also necessary, and give the audience an occasional break – while remarkably keeping the themes in play – by exploiting the appeal of supporting characters such as escape artist Houdini (Rodd Cyrus), Evelyn Nesbitt (Anna Grace Barlow, a delight as perhaps America’s first no-nonsense celebrity); and a rough-hewn band of baseball-loving brothers.
In productions, large or small – or, here, imperfectly in-between, though always glorious – everything is in the service of the spectacle which creates with words, music and movement a great American tapestry – tears and all.
