Ragtime, Neil Simon Theatre, Broadway, NYC

The cast of Ragtime (photo by Sara Krulwich)

Ragtime

Book by Terrence McNally
Music by Stephen Flaherty
Lyrics by Lynn Ahrens

Directed by Marcia Milgrom Dodge

The Neil Simon Theatre, New York City

With Ron Bohmer (Father), Quentin Earl Darrington (Coalhouse Walker Jr.), Christiane Noll (Mother), Robert Petkoff (Tateh), Bobby Steggert (Mother’s Younger Brother), Stephanie Umoh (Sarah), Christopher Cox (the Little Boy) and Sarah Rosenthal (the Little Girl).

Seeing Ragtime, the epic musical about the prewar period that remade American narrative, made me nostalgic not for that volatile era of rags-to-riches, when stodgy upper-class America was shaken by the songs of struggling minorities, but for the time just over a decade ago when the musical premiered in 1997. We stood on the precipice of a millennium, and the anticipation of major historical shift could have been a stirring and visceral concept. Maybe even in the midst of the last election, this story of prejudice and progress—whose characters include historical movers and shakers like Emma Goldman, J. P. Morgan and Booker T. Washington, as well as an array of motley archetypes from various social strata—would have had a mythical resonance. But this dispassionate revival feels less fraught with meaning about the American melting pot than it evokes a dusty museum diorama where mechanical figures in period costume move their arms around; not stimulating, but off-putting and cold. This scaled-down production features a gorgeous score of rousing anthems and duets with a full 28-piece orchestra. Though the score is padded with some forgettable music, there are a handful of fantastic songs that make the characters’ longing and tenacity come alive. But this staging, with its bleak design and lack of stellar performances, seems reductive and watered down. The material demands an exuberantly beating heart, but here receives a treatment that is mostly anemic and remote.

The opening number is still stunning though: poker-faced WASPs with their accoutrements of privilege apprehensively square off against new immigrants and boisterous African-Americans. Each group is so distinct in its costume, choreography, and musical cues that they thrillingly evoke three cultures segregating the stage. For instance, much is accomplished by worn gray overcoats, a snatch of klezmer, and heavy-footed stomps and sweeps to color the striving tenement world. As the show proceeds to tell the individual stories of each group’s ambassadors, however, it wears thin. A gentlemanly black ragtime musician, Coalhouse Walker Jr. (Quentin Earl Darrington), transforms into an embittered revolutionary when ubiquitous racism robs him of everything he loves. An idealistic Eastern European Jewish immigrant, Tateh (Robert Petkoff), and his daughter, struggle to come to terms with the fact that the American dream doesn’t come free. An openhearted upper-class housewife (Christiane Noll), whose family is entangled in the preceding two narratives, pushes against the constraints of gender roles. These complicated characters are given their due in the novel by E. L. Doctorow on which the musical is based, but here the shorthand fails and they emerge as disappointingly two-dimensional. The songs by Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty often bury a thrillingly nuanced and clever lyric in a verse of serviceable rhymes, particularly in the terrific early number, “Journey On,” in which the unique desires of three protagonists come into contrast. The number doesn’t soar because the staging is so unimaginative and static (the actors are planted on three levels of the strangely skeletal arching set, interesting only because of its resemblance to Penn Station), and the performances are so faint.

Ms. Noll’s soprano is never less than lyrical and fresh, and her beautiful eleven o’clock solo makes her performance the closest thing the show has to a star turn. Mr. Darrington luxuriates in a gorgeous baritone, especially in the scenes that call for disarming sincerity and a lightness of touch. When the plot gets grimmer, Mr. Darrington’s portrayal strains under the dramatic demands and his presence recedes, just as unfocused direction muddles his narrative. Of the supporting cast, only Bobby Steggert as a depressed young man turned hot-blooded activist creates a distinct character, equal parts awkwardness, fragility, indignation and despair. Mr. Petkoff delights early on, and he skillfully handles the single gasp-eliciting, authentically dramatic scene in which Tateh recognizes the stark amorality of his new land. Later on, Tateh sports a trim goatee as a flamboyant movie mogul in Atlantic City; he loses any trace of humility and the transformation feels preposterous.

When Coalhouse’s prized Model T, the status symbol he hoped would impress his beloved and secure the respect of whites, is vandalized by a gang of racist firemen (they all but call him “uppity”), there is nothing to demolish because the Model T is represented by a weird car-shaped metallic frame. The firemen perform a pantomime of violence that doesn’t register emotionally. It is a glossed-over throwaway moment, and much of the production feels similarly underdeveloped, as though a low budget equaled scant imagination. The emotional potential of the story remains unfulfilled, which is too bad, because the iconic characters and the big themes of progress and unity ensure that Ragtime will never go out of style (the musical literally closes on a family that includes a white boy, a black boy, and an immigrant girl). How often does a toe-tapping vaudeville number go hand in hand with an examination of race relations in prewar America? But however epic and ambitious the scope, one can’t connect to a story that plays like a history lesson in which the characters are less characters than depositories for race, class, and political ideas. Stripped of the novel’s detail and depth, the musical has gaps that can only be filled by a production that doesn’t just dutifully hit the notes but pulsates in raucous syncopation.