‘Ragtime’ at Lincoln Center Theater: the American mirror that won’t stop reflecting
Some Broadway revivals arrive wrapped in nostalgia, while others step bravely into the theatre and immediately plant a flag. The current revival of Ragtime at Lincoln Center Theater’s Vivian Beaumont Theater is firmly in that second category: sweeping, urgent, and startling in the way it draws a straight line between America’s early twentieth-century growing pains and the tension points we are still living with now. It also reminds you why the Beaumont exists in the first place. That stage was made for big, expansive stories, and Ragtime refuses to shrink itself into just a “period piece.” It insists on being in the present tense, serving as a reminder that if we, as a society, refuse to learn from our past, we’re doomed to repeat it.
[Warning: Spoilers from Broadway’s Ragtime are below!]
Three Americas, one fuse, come together in true Broadway fashion
Ragtime intertwines three major storylines in early-1900s New York and tightens them until they no longer exist as separate narratives, becoming one unavoidable collision. Mother and Father sit at the center of a wealthy white household that appears stable and “proper,” at least on the surface. But the more Mother begins to see beyond the boundaries of her protected world, the more fragile that stability becomes. Her awakening is not framed as a neat self-improvement arc. It is framed as an upheaval because growth has consequences when your entire environment depends on you staying unchanged.
Coalhouse Walker Jr., a Black pianist, pursues love, dignity, and a fair shot at life. What makes his story so devastating is not that he wants something extraordinary. It is that he is punished for wanting what should be ordinary: respect, safety, and the right to stand tall without being threatened for it. His storyline exposes how quickly American “justice” becomes conditional when Black certainty enters the room.
Tateh, a Jewish immigrant, is fighting poverty and prejudice at the same time, clawing toward a future in a country that cannot decide whether it wants newcomers to assimilate, disappear, or be grateful for scraps. His story carries the exhausting reality of reinvention, the way survival requires you to keep moving even when the ground beneath you keeps shifting.
Orbiting these three threads is a swirl of artists, activists, power brokers, celebrities, and historical figures. They do not appear simply as fun historical flavor. They underscore the show’s larger point: America is not a calm backdrop. It is a pressure cooker. These lives are not just intersecting. They are heating, expanding, and forcing a release.
Why Ragtime still feels painfully current
This musical remains relevant because it is not simply recounting history. It is exposing patterns. Ragtime lays racism, anti-immigrant hostility, class entitlement, and political violence on the table at the same time and refuses to treat any of them as separate conversations. It is all one system, one tangled reality, one national habit of deciding who gets grace and who gets blame. The show asks a brutal question that still lands today: whose pain is treated as tragedy, and whose pain is treated as an inconvenience.
What makes the piece sting is that it never lets the audience pretend these are rare events or isolated villains. It shows the everyday machinery that allows injustice to feel normal. It is easy to watch and think, “How could people accept this?” and then realize that the show is also asking, “How do we accept versions of it now?” And then there is the score, which evokes emotion with such force that it feels contemporary even when rooted in early American musical textures. Songs like “Wheels of a Dream” and “Back to Before” are not simply pretty moments. They function like internal declarations. Love becomes a form of resistance. Change becomes an act of courage. Hope becomes a choice you make even when the world keeps trying to punish you for believing in it.
The beating heart of this revival
The cast is one of this revival’s greatest strengths, and the production leans on its principals in exactly the right way. Several characters, in particular, serve as the emotional anchors that keep the show from becoming “important theater” and instead make it personal theater.
Coalhouse Walker Jr. (Joshua Henry) is the moral center of the story, and he has to be played with full humanity. Coalhouse cannot just represent an idea. He has to feel like a man with tenderness, pride, joy, and a breaking point. This portrayal succeeds because it allows both intimacy and steel to live in the same body. You understand why he believes in a better world, and you also understand how relentless cruelty can turn belief into fury.
Mother (Caissie Levy) is the quiet engine of transformation. Her journey proves how political the personal really is, because her awakening threatens the comfort systems that have shaped her entire life. Her arc resonates because it is not portrayed as effortless enlightenment. It is portrayed as costly growth. She changes, and the world around her pushes back hard, which is exactly what makes it feel real.
Tateh (Brandon Uranowitz) brings the immigrant storyline into sharp focus. His ambition is not vanity. It is survival. His story captures hunger, humiliation, determination, and the way “making it” often requires swallowing more indignities than anyone should have to accept. His evolution feels earned, and it adds a necessary dimension to the musical’s portrait of America as both promise and threat.
Sarah (Nichelle Lewis) is sometimes underplayed in other productions, which is a mistake. When Sarah is fully realized, she becomes the emotional nerve that makes Coalhouse’s storyline immediate and personal. Here, she is treated as essential, not ornamental. That attention matters because the show is deeply concerned with what gets taken from people who never agreed to surrender anything.
Father (Colin Donnell) embodies the self-assurance of privilege. He is not written as a cartoon villain. He is portrayed as a man so used to being at the center that he cannot recognize the world changing around him. That is what makes him valuable to the story. He demonstrates how “good” men can uphold harmful systems without ever labeling themselves as harmful.
Mother’s Younger Brother (Ben Levi Ross) is volatility personified. He carries ideology, yearning, ego, sincerity, and reckless romanticism in the same breath. Watching him, you keep asking: Is this true solidarity, or is it a performance of righteousness? The role needs electricity, and the character’s presence keeps the show from becoming predictable.
And characters like Booker T. Washington (John Clay III) and Harry Houdini (Rodd Cyrus) function here as more than decorative history. They highlight the contrast between America’s public mythology and its private turmoil, reminding you how often spectacle and suffering coexist in the same national moment.
What this production of Ragtime is doing, and why it works
Directed by Lear deBessonet, this revival began life at New York City Center before moving to the Beaumont at Lincoln Center, and that origin shows. The pacing is built for momentum. The storytelling is clean, purposeful, and driven by images that read immediately, rather than getting bogged down in fussy detail. The result is a production that prioritizes impact and emotional clarity, even as it handles a story this large.
The scenic approach, designed by David Korins, has been widely noted for its intentional restraint yet potency. Instead of burying the audience under heavy realism, the design suggests places through strong visual shorthand and fast transitions. That decision does two things especially well. First, it keeps the show moving. Ragtime is a marathon, and it needs to move like one. Second, it directs your attention where it belongs: to the people in the story. The show works best when the human cost stays front and center, and a leaner, more symbolic environment makes that possible.
It is also a long evening, running roughly 2 hours and 50 minutes with an intermission. That scale is not accidental. This revival is not trying to be intimate or understated. It is trying to surround you, and it largely succeeds.
What to know before you go
Venue: Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center Theater, 150 W 65th St, New York, NY 10023.
Run time: About 2 hours 50 minutes, including intermission.
Now extended through June 14, 2026.
Typical schedule:
- Tue: 7:00 PM
- Wed: 2:00 PM and 8:00 PM
- Thu: 7:00 PM
- Fri: 7:00 PM
- Sat: 2:00 PM and 8:00 PM
- Sun: 3:00 PM
(Always double-check the performance calendar, because schedules can shift for holidays and special weeks.)
Tickets: Official tickets are sold through Telecharge.
Budget options:
- $49 digital lottery (typically opens the day before the performance; winners can usually buy up to 2 tickets).
- $32 student rush at the box office (generally available starting 2 hours before curtain, subject to availability, valid student ID required).
Box office hours: Monday–Saturday, 10:00 AM–8:00 PM.
Final verdict of Lincoln Center’s Ragtime
This Lincoln Center revival makes the case that Ragtime is not simply “still relevant.” It is unresolved. The production’s clean visual storytelling, its strong ensemble unity, and its principal performances combine to deliver the show at its best: a sweeping American epic that dares you to recognize yourself, your neighbors, and your country in the crowd.
Want the latest cast details and any schedule updates? Check the official Lincoln Center Theater website for Ragtime. Have you seen this production yet? Drop your thoughts and tag @bsb.insider on socials!
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