Out of Many, Signature’s Ragtime Is One for the Ages

“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.