When New York City Center announced last year that it would present Ragtime as its annual gala presentation, musical theater ears perked up. The timing, which coincides with one of the most tumultuous elections in U.S. history, would be a profound cultural commentary — regardless of who came out on top.
But most audience members who saw the first week of performances likely walked in with a sense of optimism, fueled by the show’s 11 o’clock showstopper “Make Them Hear You.” The anthem — sung by a glorious Joshua Henry — demands, “Go out and tell our story. Let it echo far and wide … How justice was our battle and how justice was denied.”
The battle cry synthesizes a trilogy of narratives crafted by Terrence McNally (book), Stephen Flaherty (music), and Lynn Ahrens (lyrics), based on E.L. Doctorow’s book of the same name. Originally produced on Broadway in 1998 and the winner of four Tony Awards (but not Best Musical, which went to The Lion King), Ragtime was massive in scale and the inaugural show to open The Ford Center for the Performing Arts, which has since gone through—much like America—several incarnations.
The interwoven storylines follow a wealthy white family in New Rochelle, a Black couple with an out-of-wedlock newborn, and a widowed Jewish immigrant with his young daughter. Real-life characters, including Booker T. Washington, Harry Houdini, Emma Goldman, and Evelyn Nesbit, pepper the narrative, resulting in a tapestry of historical fiction amplified by a score that pays homage to the musical’s title.
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INTO sent editor Matthew Wexler and staff writer Jude Cramer to see the show together. Decades apart in age, the pair discussed Ragtime’s themes, election aftermath, and how our culture turns crime into entertainment.
Matthew: It’s so strange. We saw this show last week, but given the state of the country, it feels like a lifetime ago. I guess I felt a sense of melancholy optimism, recognizing that there’s still so much racism and misogyny in this country but also opportunity. Coalhouse [Walker] sings, “Beyond that road, beyond this lifetime, that car full of hope will always gleam.”
That sounds like a fantasy now. This was the second election you’ve ever voted in, whereas I’ve been around for a while. Where’s your head at?
Jude: I wasn’t familiar with Ragtime before seeing the show, so what struck me most was how painfully relevant its politics felt. All the show’s great tragedies and bigotries feel like they could just as easily happen in 2024 as at the turn of the 20th century. I’m sure they were just as familiar when the novel was written in 1975, when the musical premiered on Broadway in 1998, and when it was revived in 2009 — each time, I imagine, with the hope that seeing them on stage would help lead to substantive change in the real world to make the show’s plot feel more “historical fiction” and less “ripped from the headlines.”
Regarding the election, I’m disappointed but not necessarily shocked. Ragtime’s enduring relevance feels to me like part of a larger American phenomenon: things change on the surface, but on a deeper level, JP Morgan’s America is still Donald Trump’s America. Without fundamental change — the kind Coalhouse is urging us to create — that’s not likely to change any time soon.
Matthew: What I’ve always loved about this show is its massive theatricality. The original production cost a record-breaking $11 million to produce, but even this stripped-down version manages to be epic. It’s probably the best thing I’ve seen Lear DeBessonet direct, enhanced by Ellenore Scott’s choreography and Adam Honoré’s more modern approach to lighting the show, with exposed instruments that give it kind of a concert feel.
Jude: The full orchestra was one of my favorite aspects. It filled the space in the same way these powerhouse actors’ voices did; it felt like a true-to-form musical, emphasis on the music.
Matthew: So true! It’s rare that we get to hear an orchestra of that size and caliber these days. Last season’s Sweeney Todd revival starring Josh Groban was a treat with the original 26-piece orchestra.
Jude: I know you have a personal connection to the original Broadway production of Ragtime. As an insider, how do you think this version compares in terms of direction, design, and performance? Did they make any major changes or risks creatively?
Matthew: Ah, yes. I was a stunt double for Harry Houdini at the top of Act II and terrible at it. Jim Corti, who originated the role of Houdini, was so gracious even though I was so inconsistent in executing the trick. It’s difficult to compare since City Center’s production is a concert staging and the Broadway production was so massive in scale. This cast is incredible, but I’ll always have a soft spot for some of the musical’s original cast, which included Audra McDonald, a young Lea Michelle, and the late great Marin Mazzie. Graciela Daniele’s musical staging was also something to behold. The show certainly has a lot of moving parts.
The musical begins through a white lens. By the end, we see a new kind of America — a multicultural family comprised of all three narratives. It’s a bit tidy and given the state of the country, painfully optimistic.
Matthew Wexler
At intermission, you said the show reminded you of the movie Love, Actually. That’s not the first comparison that comes to mind [for me]— explain!
Jude: Just all the disparate plotlines coming together to impact one another in ways you’d never expect! In the opening number, seeing the sheer volume of characters and ensemble members kind of amazed me. This mammoth scale is so rare on Broadway these days, and even in large-cast musicals, the plot tends to zero in on two or three main stories. Not Ragtime.
Matthew: Of the three major storylines, which one resonated with you the most? For me, it’s Tateh (the brilliant Tony-winning Brandon Uranowitz), a Jewish immigrant who arrives with nothing and, through blood, sweat, and tears, achieves the American Dream and becomes a successful filmmaker.
It reminds me of my grandfather and his siblings, who came through Ellis Island at the turn of the century and started a wholesale produce company in Detroit’s Eastern Market. When he achieved a certain level of success, he bought a Cadillac to telegraph his accomplishments to the world. It seems unfathomable that they sailed the ocean, arriving in a country they’d only ever heard about and didn’t even speak English. When the company eventually closed, I asked for the Royal typewriter that the secretary used for correspondence. It weighs about 30 pounds and sits in my bedroom with a signed script from The Golden Girls and a photo I took of Sasha Velour. The juxtaposition of all of those things feels very American to me.
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Jude: For me, I was most affected by the story of Sarah and Coalhouse Walker, Jr. Nichelle Lewis (who just played Dorothy in the recent revival of The Wiz) and Joshua Henry had my favorite voices of the cast, and Lewis’ rendition of “Your Daddy’s Son” had my jaw on the floor. But beyond their performances, watching their doomed love story play out was at times euphoric, at times uncomfortable, and always visceral. Seeing Coalhouse try to do things the “right way” and getting nowhere, seeing Sarah lose her life to police brutality, and seeing Coalhouse punished for trying to take justice into his own hands should, I think, fill any viewer with rage at the indignity of it all. And again, seeing that their problems — a violent police state and a justice system uninterested in bringing Black people justice — are still just as prevalent today is a whole other kind of heartbreaking.
At the performance we attended, I was struck by how wild the audience went for conflicts within the narrative’s central white family, especially when Mother’s Younger Brother (Ben Levi Ross) and Mother (Caissie Levy) would stand up to Father (Colin Donnell). If memory serves, an audience member gave a standing ovation when Younger Brother says to Father, “You have traveled everywhere and learned nothing!” Seeing white people stand up to white people and fight racism from the inside seemed to really resonate with the crowd.
In a story like this with central themes of American racism and xenophobia, how do you think centering a white family serves the narrative? What do you think white audience members (ourselves included) are encouraged to take away?
Matthew: That’s an interesting question and observation. My first reaction is, “Three storylines are woven together.” But to your point, the musical begins through a white lens. By the end, we see a new kind of America — a multicultural family comprised of all three narratives. It’s a bit tidy and given the state of the country, painfully optimistic.
I do think that Incorporating real-life activists like Booker T. Washington and Emma Goldman helps ground the piece, but Evelyn Nesbit (Stephanie Styles) and “The Crime of the Century” intrigued me the most, so, of course, I went down that rabbit hole.
Nesbit “was an icon of her age,” according to scholar Paula Uruburu, “created and consumed by the public’s insatiable appetite for private sin and public scandal. She was America’s first bona-fide sex goddess.” And that was before social media!
It’s wild how, decades later, we still celebrate crime (and I’m not even talking about our next president). Ryan Murphy mined the lives of Jeffrey Dahmer and the Menendez brothers for two seasons of Monsters, and The Hollywood Reporter recently rounded up 35 true-crime series that are currently streaming. Even on stage, Chicago (based on the 1924 trials of Beulah Annan and Belva Gaertner) remains the longest-running American Broadway musical as a testament to our fascination with celebrity and crime.
Any form of storytelling needs conflict, but it creeps me out how we’re so obsessed with violence. Am I too sensitive?
Jude: I think violent narratives only become problematic when they’re not granted the context and gravity they deserve. We can all admit that crime is fascinating, but when it becomes too divorced from reality — when you forget those real-world crimes had real-world victims with real-world lives — that’s when things get messy, and you wind up with fans thirsting after actual serial killers. But Ragtime handles its crime storyline tastefully: Nesbit’s twee voice and nonchalance are purposefully juxtaposed with the violence she sings about. It’s meant to provoke that cognitive dissonance, and I think that’s the right way to go about it.
Matthew: Ragtime is filled with big ballads, but the one that opened the floodgates for me is “Back to Before,” sung by Mother, the matriarch of a privileged white family who takes in an orphaned Black baby much to the demise of her husband. She sings of a time when the world seemed perfect and safe, “when we spoke in civilized voices.” But something awakens within her — “there are people out there unafraid to feel sorrow, unafraid of tomorrow, unafraid to be weak … unafraid to be strong.”
It feels so poignant, not just because of the show’s timestamp but also because of today’s America. It’s weird to think what I’ve lived through. 9/11. The overturning of Roe v. Wade. A Trump presidency and now another. I’m exhausted. It’s not fair for me to ask you to give me hope as a queer Gen Z’er, but I’m going to ask anyway.
Jude: Frankly, I’m also exhausted. It’s frustrating to see that the people in control of the country simply don’t seem interested in meeting the needs of its marginalized groups — but I do have faith that eventually (hopefully sooner than later), as people of all demographics face the material reality of a country under Trump, we can mobilize and come around to create a better America for all of us.
There’s a glimmer of hope in the idea to “never go back to before,” like Mother sings, even though we, as Americans, seem to literally be doing just that. Trump may be taking office again, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re repeating history. Whether he and his party like it or not, time and progress march on, and clinging to some past imagined “Great America” can only get them so far. ♦
Ragtime plays at New York City Center through November 10. Tickets are available here.
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