Review: Out of Many, Signature’s Ragtime Is One for the Ages
Many local favorites are part of the celebrated musical’s massive cast.
By D.R. Lewis
November 3, 2023
This review originally appeared in Washington City Paper.
“E Pluribus Unum”: out of many, one. In a country where few among us understand Latin, it is a ubiquitous phrase, emblazoned on our currency and halls of government. It’s also a welcome message to audiences at Signature Theatre, where Ragtime plays through January 9; it hangs above an upright piano whose few introductory chords summon a Little Boy who makes a simple declaration: “In 1902, Father built a house at the crest of the Broadview Avenue Hill in New Rochelle, New York, and it seemed for some years thereafter that all the family’s days would be warm and fair.” But nostalgic simplicity ends with the falling banner, giving way to a sprawling rhapsody on turn-of-the-century America, including the music and people (both historical and fictional) at its evolving forefront. Since premiering in 1996, Ragtime has earned a reputation for its massive casts and memorable score full of now-standard musical theater anthems, including “Wheels of a Dream” and “Make Them Hear You.” But in a new, high-flying production at Arlington’s Signature Theatre, this epic musical forces us to look once again at the “many” in our “one,” and both the dashed and realized American dreams we continue to clamor toward.
Based on the E.L. Doctorow novel of the same name, Ragtime chronicles the social collision of three strata of American society at the beginning of the 20th century: the Black working class of Harlem, the Eastern European immigrant population of the Lower East Side, and the White upper class of New Rochelle. Complemented by historical figures like vapid vaudeville femme fatale Evelyn Nesbitt (a stellar Maria Rizzo), rabble-rousing anarchist Emma Goldman (Dani Stoller), and widely respected Tuskegee Institute founder Booker T. Washington (Tobias A. Young), members of each of these groups attempt to cope with a rapidly changing world, as well as the persistent social ills of racism and greed. Black musician Coalhouse Walker Jr. (Nkrumah Gatling) and his fiancee, Sarah (a showstopping Awa Sal Secka), dream of building a loving home for their baby boy until compounding tragedies disrupt their lives. Immigrant widower Tateh (Bobby Smith) hopes to raise his daughter out of poverty as part of his American Dream, but quickly suffers a rude awakening. And wealthy homemaker Mother (Teal Wicks) and her Younger Brother (Jake Loewenthal) are forced to widen their worldview and choose between blissful ignorance or advancing causes of social justice, even if the cost of the latter is the comfort of their cushy lives.
Director Matthew Gardiner has assembled a first-rate ensemble to present what should be considered lyricist Lynn Ahrens and composer Stephen Flaherty’s best score (book writer Terrence McNally was no slouch, either). All of the more than two dozen performers who take the stage are well-cast, and they masterfully maintain the driving pace of the show while delivering exquisite vocal performances. Wicks, who shines in the role, bookends her stirring performance with two gorgeous songs, “Goodbye, My Love” and “Back to Before,” that illustrate her firm grasp of Mother’s emotional growth. Featured soloist Jordyn Taylor, who plays Sarah’s Friend, is a delightful surprise in the first act’s closing number, “Till We Reach That Day.”
Sal Secka brings the house down in all of her numbers, but especially in her solo turn, “Your Daddy’s Son.” A haunting reflection on an impossible choice Sarah makes early in the show, Sal Secka’s interpretation of the song is at once a prayer, confession, plea for help, and lullaby to her newborn baby. In a production offering many first-rate portrayals, Sal Secka’s performance is itself worth the price of admission.
Gardiner and his team of creatives waste no time or space in telling such a massive story (including 33 musical numbers). Squeezed into Signature’s Max performance space, Lee Savage’s two-level set, with its arched windows and wrought iron-esque accents, conjures the sense that one has stepped into the main hall at Ellis Island or Grand Central Station with a one-way ticket to a better life. Its central playing area often becomes a home for symbols of upward mobility, particularly for Coalhouse and Sarah: the piano that brought Coalhouse his notoriety, his prized Model T, and a plush red armchair in the J.P. Morgan Library he has taken hostage. Illuminated models of various modes of transportation or locales outside of New York are employed to illustrate physical and social comings and goings.
Tyler Micoleau’s lighting design is as effective in its employment of eerie shadows as it is in bright washes of color. And Erik Teague’s elegant period costumes underscore the social standings of each character with detailed fabrics and distinctive accents. Ashleigh King’s inspired choreography works the hardest and goes the farthest to add emotional depth to the at-once haunting and uplifting score. Her skill is especially evident in the back-to-back “Gettin’ Ready Rag” and “Henry Ford,” switching quickly from smooth, stylish expressions of joy to a mechanical interpretation of the assembly line through its human components. This is not simply movement for movement’s sake, but an integral, deeply enriching component of the story Gardiner has set out to share.
Ragtime is not a flawless musical. In addition to an unclear timeline (in the time it takes Tateh to advance from penniless immigrant to wealthy filmmaker with two hits under his belt, Sarah’s baby never even leaves its swaddle) and sporadic moments of child clairvoyance, the second act can often slog as an emotional stop-and-start, particularly when compared to the exceptional first act and its steady parade of explosive anthems. But Gardiner refuses to allow ambiguities, fluff songs (including a musicalized baseball game and trip to Atlantic City), or a 15-minute intermission slow the show’s momentum. He and King inject much-needed energy into Ragtime’s weakest sections, barreling through the peculiarities where necessary and allowing the audience to ride the emotional high. Gardiner’s Ragtime, even at a whopping three hours, is so tight that you’ll find yourself wondering where the time went.
Despite its occasional challenges, Ragtime’s enduring themes are timeless: the insistence on eliminating injustice and honoring the dignity in our fellow Americans; facing the near-impossibility of, and relentless optimism toward, achieving the American Dream; and that most human desire to give a better life to our children. But this production feels particularly timely as tribalism runs increasingly rampant in American politics and social life, upward mobility feels farther out of reach as the wealth gap widens, and war ravages too many corners of our globe. The millionaire titans of industry who stand on Savage’s set, including J.P. Morgan (Todd Scofield) and Henry Ford (Douglas Ullman Jr.), and look down on their less-advantaged countrymen are easy avatars for the tech billionaires who wield unchecked control over information and our social interactions today. Meanwhile, those at the bottom give in to their worst instincts and stand on their prejudices as they scrounge for social crumbs, as is the case with racist Irishman Willie Conklin (Gregory Twomey), who trashes Coalhouse’s Model T in a hateful act that precipitates much of the second act conflict.
Even so, Ragtime doesn’t let its audience leave the theater without glimmers of optimism. Ahrens, Flaherty, and McNally make the case that we are stronger together and that hope for a better America lies within the ever-replenishing generations of young dreamers, activists, and visionaries. As his daughter (Emerson Holt Lacayo at the performance I saw, Avery Laina Harris at others), the Little Boy (Matthew Lamb), and Coalhouse Walker III (Maxwell Kwadjo Talbert) gather to play, Tateh fantasizes about making a movie about such a diverse group of friends. “White, Black, Christian, Jew, rich, poor, all kinds,” he says. “A crazy gang getting into trouble, getting out of trouble, but together despite their differences. He was sure it would make a wonderful movie; a dream of what this country could be.” Out of many, one.
Ragtime is as close to an American musical epic as we have and its endurance is testament to its power. If Ragtime’s inclusive revisioning of who gets to be American and share in the dream isn’t enough of a salve for our sorrows, perhaps even temporarily, to hear its score performed by a 16-piece orchestra (under the baton of music director Jon Kalbfleisch) and a stellar ensemble of performers certainly should be. “It was the music of something beginning, an era exploding, a century spinning in riches and rags, and in rhythm and rhyme. The people called it Ragtime.” This person calls it a smash.
Ragtime, with book by Terrence McNally, music by Stephen Flaherty, and lyrics by Lynn Ahrens, based on the novel by E.L. Doctorow, directed by Matthew Gardiner with music direction by Jon Kalbfleisch and choreography by Ashleigh King, runs through January 7, 2024, at Signature Theatre, 4200 Campbell Ave., Arlington. sigtheatre.org. $40–$123.
The cast of Ragtime at Signature Theatre. Photo by Christopher Mueller.