Skip to main content

"Ragtime" at City Center

 The highlight of "Ragtime" is a tiny moment in the song "Gliding."


In this song, a man wants his little daughter to close her eyes and daydream. He orders her literally four times to close her eyes. Four times! I always assumed this was lazy writing, but Brandon Uranowitz (at long last) makes the line work. The fourth time Uranowitz (a gay man) says the line, he puts a startling kind of sassy topspin on the command: "Girl? Close your friggin' eyes." 

Uranowitz is Tateh, an overwhelmed dad. Life hands him many shitty days. The gospel of musical theater writing says that your protagonist should have earth-shaking ambitions, and certainly, Tateh has these ambitions. He is penniless, mourning the loss of his wife, fighting off Lower East Side strangers who want to purchase his little girl for sex. Tateh wants to attain "a normal life," but also he wants to make use of his artistic talent (between the various street brawls that arise, the altercations with child traffickers, etc.)

I think Uranowitz understands that one should not take this material too seriously. So he adds a sense of humor; it's such a welcome change. It's one of very few sources of humor in the (three-hour) event.

When Uranowitz gets the hots for the shrieking white lady who lives next door, he mocks her lightly. The impression Uranowitz offers of his longtime friend, Caissie Levy, is affectionate and slightly (unmistakably) scathing. It's also charming.

When Uranowitz (improbably) earns many truckloads of dollar bills, he is awed by his own magnificence. His self-regard (not fully indicated by the script) is funny and plausible; it's clear that Uranowitz pays close attention to how real people behave, and he has smuggled many, many insights into "Ragtime."

Do other things happen in this show? Oh, yes. Infanticide, police brutality, domestic terrorism, the assassination by Princip, the sinking of the Lusitania, a big labor strike in Massachusetts, a brief appearance by a spooky ghost, a transatlantic passage, a dissolution-of-marriage, a second hasty (Act Two) marriage, a first kiss.

But it's Uranowitz I will remember. Hats off to Joshua Henry--and yet, also, Uranowitz is a main reason to see this show.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When
3 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla
Post a Comment
Read more

Susie at Three

 In the "Ramona Quimby" books, Ramona copes with existential horror; she is wearing a costume, for Halloween, and she entertains the thought that *no one* in her world might recognize her. If no one sees her as Ramona, then who is she? I tried to play a game with my daughter; I asked, "Are you my cinnamon donut?" To my surprise, Susie was sort of furious. "I am *not* your cinnamon donut. I am Susie." "Are you my berry lollipop?" "I am *not* your berry lollipop. I am Susie." I understand that I myself am impetuous, but it's a new experience to see this same behavior in a tiny human. Susie will not accept any help, when approaching her carseat, but, also, she lacks a plan; she just hurls herself at the seat, then gets distracted. She throws a look over her shoulder, to give me new instructions: "Papa, do NOT help me. Do NOT carry me right now." Except that she has heard the question, "Carry you?" many, many times,
2 comments
Read more