Ragtime

Having been recently inundated with enjoyable but mediocre Broadway fare - Memphis, Finian’s, et al - it was almost shocking to watch the visually stunning and dramatically engaging revival of Ragtime. I’ve always been partial to the score, filled with bombastic anthems (ironically the main complaint of the haters) and dense choral music. But the current revival successfully brings the show down to a human level without losing its grand scale. In its original run at the cavernous Hilton Theatre, all hope of character nuance was lost due to the sheer distance most of the audience sat from the stage. Facial expressions? Fuggedaboudit. The cast were merely shmata-clad ants scurrying across that massive stage. The gorgeous music and sheer scope of the piece held the audience’s interest. At the smaller Neil Simon, we can finally fully appreciate the score, performances and amazingly clear, streamlined book whittled from the dense original novel.

I ain’t gonna’ lie. I do miss the original Graziela Daniele staging of the opening number, but Marcia Milgrom Dodge’s new staging and direction have other stunning moments, namely the first tear-jerking moment in Act 1 - the culmination of "New Music" - and the wall of silhouettes in the slum scene. I excuse some other “over” directed moments (those pointless red wheels in the Henry Ford section and the way-too-literal ice skating couples in "Gliding") because overall, the production is just so damn good. Step away from the props, Marcia, leave them for Stro.

The new cast members match or surpass the iconic performances of the originals, the exception being Sarah Umoh as Sarah. While her performance is solid, she’s no Audra. Get thee to a vocal coach! There is never a need to belt every single note. And that collapse after “…buried my heard in the ground” - a bit much. I do, however, love Christiane Noll’s portrayal of Mother. Though perhaps lacking the chocolate-y thick power belt of Mazzie, her characterization is complex and moving. Watching her fall out of love with Father and in love with Tateh is equal parts heartbreak and joy. Bobbie Steggert as Younger Brother is, excuse the cliché, revelatory. I admit, the character didn’t register much for me in the original production. But here, his portrait of a troubled young man unraveling is sad and disturbing. He is now the emotional impetus that propels the rest of the story lines along. Quentin Earl Darrington is a more human and likable Coalhouse. To me, he comes off warm and approachable, unlike Stokes’ regal, almost pompous portrayal. Sure, he has a couple of flat notes, but he has a warmth and natural roundness to his sound that Stokes lacks. To me, it always sounds like Stokes is thinking about how great he sounds.

Other pluses - a full orchestra (there’s a friggin’ harp in the pit and the orchestra actually tunes before the curtain goes up) and 40 (!!) cast members. Who knows when Broadway economics will allow that to happen again?

My dream replacement cast would be Carolee Carmello as Mother and the now way-too-old John Cullum as Father. And I don’t care how old she looks, bring back Audra!