Wheelock’s ‘Ragtime’ is a Heartfelt Triumph

by Nicholas Whittaker

‘Ragtime’ – Book by Terrence McNally; Music by Stephen Flaherty; Lyrics by Lynn Ahrens; Based on the novel ‘Ragtime’ by E.L. Doctorow; Directed by Nick Vargas; Musical Direction by Jon Goldberg; Choreography by Nailah Randall-Bellinger; Scenic Design by Lindsay Genevieve Fuori; Scenic Painting by Matthew Lazure; Costume Design by Zoë Sundra; Lighting Design by Aja Jackson; Sound Design by B.C. Williams; Props by Elizabeth Rocha. Presented by Wheelock Family Theater at Boston University; Fenway Campus, 200 The Riverway, Boston, MA 02215 through February 17

When entering Wheelock Family Theater’s large, elegant hall for Ragtime, one is immediately struck by the impressive grandeur of the set (for which Lindsay Genevieve Fuori deserves high praise). A massive, wheeled set of bookcases are framed by a complex set of stairs and landings. Portraits, statuettes, globes, and knick-knacks dot the stage, and the bookshelves are filled to the ceiling with books of every size and color. It would take some work for a director and cast to match the authoritative beauty of this set. Thankfully, director Nick Vargas and company are more than up to the task. Ragtime is a thrilling, vibrant, and deeply loving venture, filling the stage with energy and life at virtually every moment.

The success of Wheelock’s Ragtime is all the more admirable given the often awkward, naive, and outdated source. Lines like “I hate you, goddamned America!” land like unearned melodrama, and the show often lapses into overwrought tropes of the black, immigrant, and the working-class struggles, tropes nostalgic for an idealized time when racism was simple, facts were not up for debate, and the American dream still felt real.

But Vargas’ production shakes off the cobwebs, overcoming Ragtime’s inauthenticity with earnest energy – and no small amount of talent. The production has Vargas himself to thank for that. His direction possesses a rare ingenuity, combining a willingness to take risks with a canny understanding of what makes audiences tick. He knows precisely how much sentiment, melodrama, and experimentation they can swallow, and he pushes the production to its limits without crossing over.

In a deviation from the original musical, Vargas introduces a group of half-dozen children to act as his production’s framing device. The show opens with the kids, dressed in contemporary clothing, exploring the set as though it were some dusty and forgotten library. One – played with admirable ease and charm by Ben Choi-Harris – discovers E.L. Doctorow’s Ragtime (the basis of the original musical) and the show commences, the children taking up roles in the central drama. Throughout the production, Choi-Harris, who also portrays the show’s Little Boy, can often be found stowed away in some nook in the set, reading the book with visible excitement as the narrative unfolds before his eyes. While such a strategy could have strayed into eye-rolling cliche, Vargas’ risk pays off, and the musical takes on new life as seen through Choi-Harris’ eyes (culminating in a powerful ending moment that again plays with just enough sentiment to bring about tears rather than laughs.)

Such risks elevate Wheelock’s Ragtime above its source material, and fills the production with a palpable energy. Vargas uses every inch of the stage and set to its full advantage, playing with space for powerful emotional affect. Bookshelves become pianos, doors become portals to a new beginning and a fateful end, and stairs host an anarchist’s furious diatribe and an immigrant father’s first glimpse of America. He gets (for the most part) the best out of his actors, understanding their strengths and taking good advantage of them. If some choices don’t pan out as well as others (the destruction of Coalhouse’s car lacks the emotional devastation it needs), the vast majority more than make up for them. Vargas is one to watch.

Part of the ease of Vargas’ directing is certainly thanks to his often stellar cast. Choi-Harris’s young compatriots own the stage with a pride and adeptness many actors twice their age would envy; and even with only a handful of lines, Marissa Simeqi conveys an astonishing amount of emotion as Choi-Harris’ counterpart, “Little Girl”. They’re a fit match for their older stagemates. The ensemble, strikingly, never feels passive. Thanks to a combination of Vargas’ direction and apparent natural talent and cohesion, they fill the stage’s empty spaces with amusing and emotive busywork, whether filling out jazz clubs, immigrant tenements, or Atlantic City beaches. Vocally, led by musical director Jon Goldberg, the ensemble is never less than good, and is frequently astounding. While the opening number lacks a bit of punch, the second act’s closing number is transcendent (guided by stellar performances by Carolyn Saxon and Yewande Odetoyinbo), and intermediary numbers like “Atlantic City” are ceaselessly entertaining. When ensemble members step further into the spotlight (notably Tara Deieso as “Evelyn Napier”, Davron Monroe as “Booker T. Washington, and Tom Sawyer as “Willie Conklin”, whose cleverly-acted vengeful and petty racism is particularly forceful), they prove themselves more than up to the task.

The production’s more central players are likewise impressive. While Lisa Yuen as “Mother” and Tony Castellanos as the immigrant father “Tateh” take until the production’s latter half to fully come into their own, it’s well worth the wait when they do. Yuen creates a Mother whose strength is never compromised by her love for her family, buoyed by a clear vocal performance. Castellanos’ Tateh is at first defined solely by an at-times one-dimensional, but frequently moving, obsession with protecting his daughter. But in the show’s second half, after Tateh’s fortunes begin to change, one almost sees a new life enter Castellanos, and he anchors his scenes with charm and grace. As Father, Peter S. Adams gives one of the production’s most cohesive and dependable performances. His warm baritone is strong and clear, and he captures Father’s more difficulty complex characterizations, presenting his failures as a father, love for his family, commitment to America, and ignorance of its dark side with equal vigor. And despite a frustratingly patchy microphone on opening night, Pier Lamia Porter as “Sarah” proves her vocal chops while painting a genuinely moving picture of traumatized motherhood.

Finally, what can be said of Anthony Pires, Jr.’s Coalhouse? From the instant he steps on stage, Pires channels a charisma that leaves the audience breathless. In his hands, Coalhouse becomes the emotional heart of the production, a man whose sobering knowledge of the racist machinery powering America never corrupts an unshakeable love for his family, his people, and his piano. Pires delivers a standout vocal performance, with a voice that spirals and slides with gentle warmth while delivering absolutely knockout power, rage, and pain. Thanks to Pires, one can easily see why Sarah, and Little Boy’s family, and the Black citizens of New York, love Coalhouse so much. Rest assured, you’ll love him too.

Ragtime had its fair share of flubs, some of which can be attributed to the earliness of the run. Dance steps were missed here and there; songs and scenes sometimes fell short. Microphones were frequently on the fritz, and the lighting design could benefit from some risk-taking. But Ragtime overpowers these hitches by force of will and earnest talent. Its love for itself, its characters, and the complicated, elusive country it seeks after is infectious. For a theater experience that surrenders cynicism and doubt for a wholehearted, joyous beauty, look no further than Wheelock’s Ragtime. For tickets and more information, visit their website: www.wheelockfamilytheatre.org.