For those of us who have been carrying a Statue of Liberty–size torch for Ragtime since its 1996-97 Toronto premiere—back when peripheral characters Evelyn Nesbit and Harry Houdini shared a wistful vaudeville duet called “I Have a Feeling,” and when the Little Boy was played by a future Tony winner named Brandon Uranowitz—any time is a good time for Ragtime.
The Lear deBessonet-directed Ragtime concert staging last fall at City Center, which opened less than a week before the presidential election, came at an auspicious moment: We really were hearing, as the entire company sings in the title song, “the music of something beginning/ An era exploding.” On Nov. 5, another lyric seemed more apropos: “The sound of distant thunder/ Suddenly starting to climb.” (Since Election Day, a lyric from the Act 1 ender “Till We Reach That Day” has been stuck in my head on repeat: “What is wrong with this country?”)
The current climate, and audiences, commanded more—a full production, certainly—of the Lynn Ahrens-Stephen Flaherty-Terrence McNally musical. And it’s only right that this marvelous revival now should land at Lincoln Center Theater—not only because deBessonet is the newly installed artistic director, but also because the songwriting team Ahrens and Flaherty have a relationship with LCT that spans 33 years and four shows: My Favorite Year (1992); A Man of No Importance (2002), also with a book by McNally; Dessa Rose (2005); and The Glorious Ones (2007).
[Read Roma Torre’s ★★★★★ review here.]
The Vivian Beaumont Theater can easily swallow up a show (see: 2024’s Uncle Vanya). But the semicircular shape also can be an advantage (see: this spring’s Floyd Collins). It brings everyone closer to the action, and that immediate intimacy is paramount to deBessonet’s unfussy Ragtime. For all its virtues, the original 1998 Broadway version, at the then-spanking-new Ford Center for the Performing Arts (now the Lyric Theatre, home of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child), kept the audience at arm’s length, creating something of a diorama effect. Conversely, deBessonet puts the actors—nearly all are reprising their City Center roles—front and center. Her priorities are the people and the music; it’s a 28-person orchestra, and the score sounds glorious.
With the Prologue and “Ragtime,” Ahrens, Flaherty, and McNally have created possibly the most gorgeous—and efficient—10 minutes ever to open a show. We meet every main character and learn their backgrounds: white upper-middle-class New Rochelle residents Mother (Caissie Levy, lovely), Father (Colin Donnell), their Little Boy (Nick Barrington), Grandfather (Tom Nelis), and Mother’s Younger Brother (Ben Levi Ross), a revolutionary in the making; Black musicians and dancers in Harlem, most famously the ragtime pianist Coalhouse Walker Jr. (Joshua Henry) and his most ardent admirer, Sarah (Nichelle Lewis); and immigrant artist Tateh (Brandon Uranowitz) and his Little Girl (Tabitha Lawing), just arrived from Latvia and now living on the Lower East Side.
We’re also introduced to investment banker J.P. Morgan (John Rapson); industrialist Henry Ford (Jason Forbach); self-professed anarchist Emma Goldman (Shaina Taub, a two-time Tony winner for her musical Suffs), who’s just what Younger Brother needs to radicalize him; educator and orator Booker T. Washington (John Clay III); model Evelyn Nesbit (Anna Grace Barlow), her architect lover, Stanford White (Billy Cohen), and her murderous millionaire husband, Harry K. Thaw (Jacob Keith Watson); and, oh yes, escape artist Harry Houdini (Rodd Cyrus). Remember, this all happens in roughly 10 minutes, with impassioned lyrics like “It was the music/ Of something beginning/ An era exploding/ A century spinning” atop a swoon-worthy melody, performed by 32 people. The first-rate vocal arrangements are courtesy of Flaherty.
If you’re not moved by that stunner of an opener, check your pulse. Otherwise you likely won’t be drawn in by any of the main characters’ journeys, particularly Coalhouse’s. He’s trying to make a life with the woman he loves and their baby, but he encounters racism and injustice at every turn, from purchasing his beloved Model T (Henry Ford, virtually dripping with disdain, hands him the keys) to attempting to seek retribution for its destruction—the justice system has him running in circles (literally, thanks to the turntable on the Beaumont stage).
Henry is, in a word, magnificent. His Coalhouse is a tower of strength and spirit, fueled by long-simmering anger and stubborn righteousness. It’s no surprise he elicits tears—and mid-show standing ovations—with the power ballads “Wheels of a Dream” (a duet with Lewis) and “Make Them Hear You.” Uranowitz, whose Tateh struggles mightily before finding success in America, pulls on some heartstrings of his own—especially singing alongside Levy in “Our Children”—and he’s a delight on the patter song “Buffalo Nickel Photoplay, Inc.”
Classism, systemic racism, the immigrant experience—none of that screams “musical!” But Ahrens, Flaherty, and McNally managed to work it all in without preaching or lecturing (all three won Tonys for their efforts). You could argue that the characters are one-dimensional, but that’s on E.L. Doctorow, whose 1974 novel Ragtime is almost a collection of snapshots to memorialize historic moments—for instance, the creation of the assembly line. And for those who say the show moves too slowly (it clocks in at 2 hours 50 minutes), composer and pianist Scott Joplin, aka the King of Ragtime, says this in a preface to Doctorow’s book: “It is never right to play Ragtime fast.”
Ragtime opened Oct. 16, 2025, at the Vivian Beaumont Theatre and runs through June 14, 2026. Tickets and information: lct.org
