As I was wiping my tears and reaching for a tissue, I caught
the eyes of a woman walking up the aisle who, wide eyed, mouthed an exaggerated
I know. Such was the forcefield
that is director Lear DeBessonet’s revival of Ragtime at the Vivian
Beaumont Theater. Being gripped this
intensely by a production is rare for me, even though as a Drama Desk voter I
attend far more shows than the average person.
This is how it should be given that the show is built from
E. L. Doctorow’s 1975 genius of a novel by the same name. It has always been my
favorite of his books. I liked the
all-star 1981 film version and loved the original 1998 Broadway production so
much that I went out the next morning and bought the cast recording. I enjoyed the 2009 revival too, although I
now can’t remember anything that stands out from it.
DeBessonet’s envisioning will be on my short list of most
moving shows for as long as I am attending theatre. The original was a Livent (U.S.) Inc.
production, meaning it was large scale in sets and every other element of a
Broadway show. DeBessonet’s vision is
the opposite, next to no scenery, thus keeping the brilliant story and engaging
characters front and center. She is
aided by the powerful score, one of my favorites in musical theatre, by Stephen
Flaherty (music) and Lynn Ahrens (lyrics), which won them Tony Awards in 1998
along with Terrance McNally for his book.
The songs are magnificently showcased by a 28-piece orchestra under the
direction of James Moore.
Lighting designers Adam Honoré and Donald Holder lower the lights in the second, climactic act,
creating the sense of foreboding that will lead to the inevitable tragic ending
for one of the characters. Scenic
designer David Korins uses a turntable to give the feeling of this new era,
early 20th century, unfolding and to emphasize the swiftly moving
story. His two major props are an
upright piano and a shiny new Model T, representing the main character,
Coalhouse Walker, Jr.
As for characters, Doctorow brings forth three groups of
fictional folks who would never have contact with each other and believably has
them deeply intertwined by the end, mixing in historical figures such as J. P.
Morgan (John Rapson), architect Stanford White (Billy Cohen), anarchist Emma
Goldman (Shaina Taub) and vaudeville showgirl Evelyn Nesbit (Anna Grace
Barlow).
Their story opens in 1906 as a prosperous WASP family living
in New Rochelle, New York, a Black family from Harlem and an immigrant family
from Latvia represent the changes that will take place in our country as the
new century enfolds.
The WASP clan is headed by a traditional, for the time,
couple, Father (Colin Donnell) and Mother (Cassie Levy, photo center), their
son, Edgar (Nick Barrington), Mother’s Younger Brother (Ben Levi Ross) and
Grandfather (Tom Nelis). Only Edgar has
a name because he represents the bridge into the future, and he can also
predict it. At the start of the play, he
calls out to the illusionist Harry Houdini (Rodd Cyrus) after a performance,
“Warn the Duke.” We don’t see the
culmination of his prophesy until the end with the start of World War I, which
was triggered by the assignation of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria.
His second foretelling is when he and mother are awaiting a
train on the platform in New Rochelle.
The widower immigrant artist Tateh (Brandon Uranowitz, photo right) and
his daughter (Tabitha Lawing) are waiting for a train to Massachusetts. After the two adults exchange pleasantries
and Edgar tries to draw out the daughter, Tateh and the girl leave on their
train. Edgar says, “We know those
people,” and Mother replies, “Don’t be silly.
They’re poor foreigners.” To
which Edgar counter, “Then, we’re going to know them.” Mother dismisses this with, “Who puts such
thoughts in your head.” But the future
will prove how on-target he is with his unlikely forecast. (An interesting note about Uranowitz: He played Edgar opposite the late Marin
Mazzie in the original production.)
Finally, Edgar predicts death in one of the final scenes.
The Black family consists of Coalhouse Walker Jr. (Joshua
Henry, photo left), a rising jazz musician, his beloved Sarah (Nichelle Lewis)
and their son, Coalhouse Walker III (Kaleb Johnson and Kane Emmanuel Miller
rotating performances). They become
entwined with the WASP family after Mother finds an abandoned infant buried in
her garden. His mother, Sarah, is soon
found by the police and Mother, in a move that was fully out of character with
her background, assumes responsibility and has the two take up residence in her
attic. She makes her decision alone because Father is
off on a year-long expedition with Admiral Perry (John Rapson).
Mother reflects on her decision as well as Sarah’s in one of
the many moving songs “What Kind of Woman?”
“What kind of woman/Would do what I’ve done?/Open the door /to such
chaos and pain!/You would have/ gently closed the door,/And gently turned the
key/And gently told me not to look/, For fear of what I’d see./ What kind of
woman/Would that have made me?
The final, and permanent, coming together involves Tateh,
after he has become a successful movie maker posing as a Baron, and Mother, two
parents who meet, as far as they are aware, for the first time and connect over
their love for their children. They are in Atlantic City, where Father has
moved his family to shelter them from the vengeful path Coalhouse has taken
following the desecration of his cherished Model T and the death of Sarah that
follows. While Coalhouse is pursuing a
murderous spree, Mother and Tateh find peace on the beach watching their little
ones play harmoniously together and sing a duet of another gorgeous song “Our
Children:” “See them running down the beach./Children run so fast/Toward the
future/From the past./There they stand,/Making footprints in the sand,/And
forever hand in hand,/Our children./Two small lives,/Silhouetted by the
blue,/One like me/And one like you./Our children./Our children.”
All the songs are rich and perfectly sung, lovingly for “Our
Children” and forcefully for “What Kind of Woman?” and, thank God, they are
never belted and aren’t amplified to within an inch of their life the way far
too many Broadway songs are. At the
center is “Wheels of a Dream,” which Coalhouse sings to Sarah while he is still
full of hope for the future. “Yes,
the wheels are turning for us, girl,/And the times are starting to roll./Any
man can get where he wants to/If he’s got some fire in his soul./We’ll see
justice, Sarah,/And plenty of men/Who will stand up/And give us our due./Oh,
Sarah, it’s more than promises./Sarah, it must be true./A country that let’s a
man like me/Own a car, raise a child, build a life with you.”
It is also the song the entire cast of 41 comes on stage to
sing at the conclusion.
Linda Cho’s costumes are exquisite, especially Mother’s rich
Victorian gowns, like all her family’s clothes in shades of white and cream,
representing the privilege and purity of their place at that time.
All the performances are stirring, although my friend and I
had some trouble understanding the words in Sarah’s songs. I felt Lewis was rushing them and her volume
was too high. But that’s one small
complaint in an otherwise perfect production, which played to one of the most
enthusiastic and appreciative audiences I have experienced in a long time. It’s early in the 2025-26 season but I feel I
have already seen the best show of the year.
