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gorillazroutine · 14 years ago

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thoughts on: The Book of Daniel by E.L. Doctrow

"The theory is that the person's normal environment is therapeutic. The theory is that the person wants to go home," (p.7)

The home is the penultimate safe space in our minds. It is the one place where we can be alone and safe and warm, free from the harsh outside world. It is the analogy for the womb, the safest of places, and though a poor substitute, it is the closest we can come to jumping back inside to hide from the pain and anxiety of modernity.

*Word I didn't know: aporcryphal- of doubtful authorship or authenticity.

"The idea I had was of life as training. We were all training for something," (p.31)

I have often pondered this view of life lately. It seems that all my life I have been trying to move along a linear path, at the very least in terms of education, but probably on a larger scale than that. Always have I chased the grade, or the exam, or application, or whatever ridiculous next step I needed to take to prove my worth as an intelligent individual, ready for the trials of "the real world." My time at the free school has taught me that I was perhaps looking ahead when I should have been looking inward. An emphasis on "making the grade" or looking ahead to the next step of education and life left me at a loss for what actually brought me authentic fulfillment. That is why I've come to believe a democratic education is so vital to the growth of a human being- one is allowed to focus attention inward, determining his or her gifts and talents and how he or she might apply them to a philosophy of life.

"In social justice you discovered your own virtue. To desire social justice was a way of living without envy, which is the emotion of a loser. It was a way of transforming envy into the constructive ongoing hate," (p.32)

A bit of a contradiction here- social justice implies embracing a natural human empathy, a desire for equality and fairness for all of one's brothers and sisters, but Daniel has transferred this feeling into hate for those that don't embrace it. It is easy to hate and make enemies of those who you believe are wrong. It is much harder to love them, but freeing oneself of envy and hate is surely a better way to live than choosing one or the other. (A side note: I do believe envy and jealousy are worse emotions to embrace than hate, as they imply a hate for another- even a loved one- and hate for oneself).

"I suggested to her that fucking was a philosophical act of considerable importance. I knew that in deference to this possibility she would allow herself to be fucked," (p.56-57)

Was this an authentic belief/claim held by Daniel? Or, was he simply using it to validate his persona that was, by his own admission, "shoulder locks and fuck-everyone." Perhaps I am misreading "fuck-everyone" here. He might mean it in the context of not caring what anyone thinks if it is outside his framing of the world around him.

"The final existential condition is citizenship. Every man is the enemy of his own country. EVERY MAN IS THE ENEMY OF HIS OWN COUNTRY. Every country is the enemy of its own citizens," (p.73)

First of all, saying that the final existential condition is citizenship sounds Hegelian (in the way that he suggested that Prussian society was the highest stage of societal development). Calling every man the enemy of his country is reminiscent of 1984, and like many aspects of that novel, it's story can be applied, at least in part, to the modern global socio-economic system. In the futuristic world of Orwell's novel, a constant state of war was what insured stability among the power elite. In the same way that the conglomerate nations were willing to sacrifice their citizens' lives to ensure global hegemony was preserved in the Orwellian world, Daniel believes (as I do) that modern nations promote wars to benefit the ruling elite, or at the very least, the system that allowed them to gain a position of power:

"In the French film, Paths of Glory, a French regiment is shown in the trenches during World War I. They are ordered to attack with their rifles and bayonets an impregnable German position call The Pimple. They physically are not able to bring themselves to leap out of their trenches to commit this mass suicide. In a rage, their General behind the lines orders his own artillery to fire upon them. The artillery balks. The General withdraws this regiment from the lines and punishes it for rank disobedience by executing three enlisted men who have been picked by straw lot. Their own comrades are the firing squad. In war the soldier's' destruction is accomplished by his own Commanders. It is his government which places a rifle in his hands, puts him up on the front, tells him his mission is to survive. All societies are armed societies. All citizens are soldiers. All Governments stand ready to commit their citizens to death in the interest of their government," (p.73)

The final sentence of this paragraph is what interests me most. Governments put their citizens to death not just in wars, but through the administration of public policy. Whether it be denying healthcare or a living wage to the poor, or subsidizing a food-delivery system that promotes the consumption of unhealthy food, governments do indeed condemn their citizens to death in the interest of self-preservation.

"And so when they were taken away, one after the other, and I next saw them on television or a moment of their faces in the newspaper, it was like the world finally agreed to what I always knew- that we were important people," (p.93)

Since I rarely have any of my own ideas (snicker, snicker. all the best are stolen), this passage reminded me of something Alan Watts said in his "Out of your Mind" lecture series. It was something to the effect of, "and so our children think that the only way anything they do is real is if they get their name in the paper. And the quickest way to do that is to commit a crime." Reality is a strange thing for me these days. With the growing influence of social media, Facebook, Twitter, etc, it seems that nothing matters unless it is broadcast to the world, seemingly confirming Watts's assertion. I'm certainly not free from it- I'm writing this shitty analysis as part of a blog right now. While I don't expect anyone to read it, I certainly must think there's a chance - why else would I publish it to the internet rather than save it privately on my desktop?

STERNLICHT RAPPING

"He talks fast in a gravel voice that breaks appealingly on punch lines. He jumps around as he raps, gesturing, acting out his work.

Like you said the movement couldn't afford us. OK. I went to this coalition meeting uptown to plan for the Convention next year? And these are good kids, New Left kids who know the score. And you should hear them spin out this shit: Participatory democracy. Co-option. Restructure. Counter-institutional. Man, those aren't words. Those are substitutes for being alive..."

Exactly, Sternlicht. Words are cheap, ideas slightly more expensive, but action is the only priceless aspect of change. I'm guilty of using words- even lacking as mine are in substance- to try to explain away problems. Things are, after all, just nouns. Actions, however, have real meaning in what they affect in their environment.

"I got up and said, 'What the fuck are you all talking about. What is this with resolutions and committees? What kind of shit is this, man? I mean you don't need the establishment to co-opt you, man. You are co-opting yourself. You see this chair? This is a chair, main.' And I break this fucking chair to splinters- I smash it to the floor and I stomp it on it and really make a mess of the goddamn chair. And all the while I'm shouting, "See Sternlicht break the chair! I'm breaking this chair!' And I hold up the pieces. 'Let's fuck. Let's fight. Let's blow up the Pentagon! A revolutionary is someone who makes the revolution. If you want to sit here and beat your meat, all right, but don't call it a revolution.' Well, I started a riot! It was gas! Everyone was mad as hell and that meeting came alive. You've got to put down anything that's less than revolution. You put down theorizing about it, dreaming about it, waiting for it, preparing for it, demonstrating for it. All that is less than being it and therefore not it, and therefore never will be it. A revolution happens. It's a happening! It's a change on the earth. It's a new animal. A new consciousness! It's me! I am Revolution! ..."

If only a mass of the global population could think this way. We would either change things for the better or ensure our own destruction as a human organism. I think it's worth a try, but revolution, for me anyway, doesn't need to be violent or destructive. Socialist historians might say otherwise, but bloodless revolutions have happened and are possible. A revolution of consciousness and understanding is what humanity needs.

"'The lesson is that it must be our own revolution. Dig? I'm gonna answer your question. Your question is tactical. Fidel bounced his revolution off some fifth-rate spic gangster and the United Fruit Company. But we are in revolution form this- ' He points at the collage. 'Corporate liberalism, and George Washington and the fag peace movement, and big money and hardware systems, and astronauts. We are in revolution from something with a pretty fair momentum of its own. And you're not going to bring it down by going into the hills with some rifles. OK? ..."

Revolutions can't be modeled on past ones- they are organic and specific to societies and situations throughout history. And here Sternlicht confirms what I've just said. He has an understanding that the root of the problems in America won't be changed by violent overthrow of a government because it is the minds of the people themselves that must change. They must realize that they are slaves to masters that have convinced them their way of life is sane and just. Be content with what you have, give thanks that you weren't born 'over there'. Sternlicht will expand on this idea further:

"The only people in the U.S. who know they're slaves are the black people. The spade kids today don't have to be organized. I mean they are born with absolutely no tolerance for shit, they are born willing to die. And the white dropout children, the derelict kids, the whole hippie thing, the free store, is a runaway slave movement. It really is. So maybe they know it. But the rest- the kids who go to school for careers and the blue-collar sellouts and all the suburban hustlers in the land who make the hustle system work, who carry it on their backs and think they're its beneficiaries- I mean it's a double-think system, it is not ordinary repression, right? My country knees you in the neck and you think you're standing upright. It presses your face in the muck and you think you're looking at the sky. I mean you cannot make connections between what you do and why they hate you in Chile. You are hung up on identity crises. You think you are a good guy. You're not prejudiced. You believe in making money honestly. You believe in free speech. You have allergies. You have strokes. You have mortgages. Your lungs are garbage pails. Your eyes go blind with the architecture. You think the white folks are learning. You think the black folks are lifting themselves up. YOU THINK THERE'S PROGRESS. YOU THINK YOUR CHILDREN HAVE IT BETTER. YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING IT FOR YOUR CHILDREN! ..."

The type of oppression Sternlicht is describing is a metaphor for Huxley's society in A Brave New World. It is a form of accepted oppression, wherein those invested in the system believe in it, fight to protect it and it's principles. It is Wilhelm Reich's 'trap.' clear for all to see but ignored by all, either because they have a great stake in it or because they know if they make for the exit they will be killed. If only we could actually change things for the better by working within the system- this is a pipe dream- it's impossible. It's rotten core is beyond saving. I struggle with going beyond being a liberal, beyond being a progressive, to the root, to radicalism. I'm a child who doesn't have it better than my parents. Sure, my childhood was easier, but as someone who was blessed with a better set-up for success, I haven't achieved it. Why? Because I know my face is in the muck with the knee of the elite in my neck. It's just that for a guy like me, that knee leaves me enough room to look side-to-side, leaves my face just a few inches above the muck so that I can breathe. It's essential to keep guys like me here, to keep me content. The ruling elite, the money interests, the '1%' don't want me to think about why people really hate me in Iraq, if they really hate me. They don't want me to poke around for answers, to discover it is they whom the Iraqis really hate, for putting military bases on their holy land and bombing their children with drones. That said, the identity crisis Sternlicht describes rages in me. Is it even worth it to fight, or should I just give in to the inferno? Is it worth it to try to love everyone, knowing full well that it won't be reciprocated most of the time? I hope that if I do have children, they motivate me to do my best to be a revolutionary of consciousness- not to simply sell out to give them a comfortable life, because that isn't really 'doing it for them'- to educate others to open their eyes and think critically, to think for themselves and pursue truth rather than swallow propagandist shit pills and McDonald's egg McMuffins.

"The friends leave and Artie picks up his rap as we stand at the fire escape railing in the hot September night. 'So how do you bring change to something this powerful. How do you make revolution. The same way a skinny judo freak throws a cat three times his size. You don't preach. You don't talk about poverty and injustice and imperialism and racism. That's like trying to make people read Shakespeare, it can't be done. Look there, what do you see? LIttle blue squares in every window. Right? Everyone digging the commercials. That is today's school, man. In less than a minute a TV commercial can carry you through a lifetime. It tells the story from the date to the wedding. It shows the baby, the home, the car, the graduation. It makes you laugh and makes your eyes water with nostalgia. You see a girl more beautiful than ay girl you've ever seen. Giants, and midgets, and girls coming in convertibles, and knights and ladies, and love on the beach, and jets fucking the sky, and delicious food steaming on the table, and living voices of cool telling you how cool you are, how cool you can be. Commercials are learning units. So like when the brothers walk into the draft board down in Baltimore and pour blood all over the induction records- that's the lesson. And the marching parade on Flag Day and getting the Legionnaires to chase you and the pigs to chase you and tearing up your flags, American flags, on Flag Day! You dig? Society is a put-on so we put on the put-on. Authority is momentum. Break the momentum. Legitimacy is illegitimate. Make it show its ass. Hit and run. You got forty seconds, man. The media need material? Give them material. Like Abbie says, anyone who does anything in this country is a celebrity. Do something and be a celebrity," (p.137-140)

This reminds me of why I never want to watch T.V. again (though I sometimes do- see earlier comment on identity crisis). It makes me remember why I get sick to my stomach every time I see a commercial or advertisement that tells you how much cooler or sexier or better I can be if I buy a product. It makes me want to pick up a book, better yet, put it down and go out and DO SOMETHING. It makes me want to be illegitimate, to say, 'Fuck legitimacy.' And I do mean fuck it in a way that holds considerable philosophical importance.

Sternlicht: "...when you're into revolution you have to die, and you can't be a revolution unless you're willing to die," (p.151)

"When the cell door first closed I thought it would open if I tried it. They actually locked me in a cell. They actually do that, put someone in a place so that he can't get out. It is done. And the same people that have put me here are trying me. What can I expect of a trial conducted by the same people who have arrested me and put me int heir jail? ... The more insane and infuriating and ridiculous the fact that you must stay here in this cage, the more it is true. With every minute that passes it becomes more terrifyingly insane and more true," (p.188).

This was Daniel's first experience in a cell, the first time he was under arrest. As I can attest, the insanity of being put in a place and held there against your will is one of the most terrifying and dehumanizing experiences I've ever had, especially because I felt (as I'm sure many people who are arrested do) that I did not deserve to be there.

"My Darling, whoever is looking will think I am writing a note on some legal aspect to Ascher. I will pass it to him and he will pass it over to you. You look pale, my sweetheart. Don't be afraid. Don't you know your girl longs for you with a love that is indestructible? Look up and you will see me smiling at you.

R. " (p.188)

This was a note written by Rochelle (Daniel's mother) to Paul (Daniel's father) after they were both incarcerated. I would like to think that my girl, the one who loved me, would send me a

"The floors are made of marble, there's a guard at every door... Just like a bank. An altar for the judge, a lesser altar for the lawyers. Like some kind of church. Banks and churches and courtrooms all depend on the appurtenances of theater. On illusion. Banks, the illusion of stability and honorable dealings to hide the rot and corruption of capitalist exploitation. Churches the illusion of sacred sanctuary for purposes of pacifying social discontent. Courtrooms of course designed to promote the illusion of solemn justice. If there was true justice why would such trappings be necessary? Wouldn't a table and chairs and an ordinary room serve just as well?" (198)

Again I think of Watts- he compares a courtroom to a church. Even the figures of power and respect, the judge and the priest, wear similar garb and are regarded in a superhuman way- 'your holiness' and 'your honor.' The illusion of justice is to help those men that were mentioned earlier sleep well- those with the crises of identity- to reassure them that they are just and without prejudice; that they are good, upstanding men in a world that is burning all around them.

"Before the famous Egyptian adjustment of the Chaldean calendar, in 4000 B.C., judicial astrology proposed thirteen signs in the Zodiac of approximately 27 degrees each. The thirteenth sign was Starfish. We do not today know where it was located in the Zodiac. It is believed that as the earth's axis gradually altered, an entire chunk of the night sky, including this constellation, disappeared. But until that time Starfish was considered one of the most beneficial of signs. A Starfish ascendant suggested serenity and harmony with the universe, and therefore great happiness. The five points of the star lead not outward as is commonly believed, but inward, toward the center. This symbolized the union of the various mental faculties and the coodination of the physical faculties. It referred to the wedding in the heart of the five senses. It imlied the unification of all feelings. Belief was joined with intellect, language with truth, and life with justice. Starfish in opposition to Mars usually meant Genius. Under the influence of Venus it suggested Peace. For some reason astrologers today don't mention the Starfish adn there is common superstition that it means bad luck. *This is undoubtedly because modern man can conceive of nothing more frightening than the self-sufficiency of being of the beautiful Starfish: he mistakes it for death," (p.250)

*I am most concerned with the final sentence of this paragraph. As humans, we seem to seek out love and validation, sometimes feeling 'complete' only with 'the right person,' our 'one true love.' We search for love and companionship as if they are the way to happiness, as if they are necessary to a fulfilling existence. A starfish does not require these things, and is symbolically opposed to this idea. It is asexual and can reproduce on its own, so it has no need for a mate, for companionship or to pass on its genes. It is a being completely content in its aloneness, something terribly difficult for human beings to achieve. Osho might tell us to live like a starfish- to join our mental and physical faculties in perfect balance and accept our aloneness so that we might love freely- something that seems at once perfectly logical and terribly impossible.

"God was on their side. No matter what is laid down there will be people to put their lives on it. Soldiers will instantly appear, fall into rank, and be ready to die for it. And scientists who are happy to direct their research toward it. And keen-witted academics who in all rationality develop the truth of it. And poets who find their voice in proclaiming the personal feeling of it. And in every house in the land the muscles of the face will arrange in smug knowledge of it. And people will go on and make their living from it. And the religious will pray for a just end to it, in terms satisfactory to it," (p.255)

Daniel describes here the difficulty in trying to change systemically what Reich calls 'The Trap.' All of the resistance to change is carried by those who have an investment in the trap. They may see the insanity in it, see the inequality and the hate, but they are invested. They must consider their own safety, security, as well as their family's. But they've missed the point- humanity is their family, and it is not safe, not secure. But that is the trap, and all who see the exit and move toward it will be killed, silenced for trying to expose it.

#The Book of Daniel #E.L. Doctrow

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larryland · 6 years ago

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As a former librarian, I am almost always wont to pronounce “the book was better” or “read the book” when presented with a film or stage adaptation of a printed or published work. And like thousands of readers, I devoured E.L. Doctrow’s best seller of 1975 and extolled its virtues to anyone looking for the next best read. Something about the story of 3 American families, of white, black, and Jewish heritage, clearly resonated with a large segment of the population who kept the title on many a best seller list for many a week.

Now, having been absolutely gobsmacked by the Mac-Haydn’s premiere presentation of Ragtime: The Musical, I may be forced to revise my position on the superiority of the printed word and grant that a live theatre production quite possibly can, and in the case of the Mac’s production, does exceed the published work. Earlier this season, I predicted Sunset Boulevard would be the Crown Jewel of their season, and without taking away any of the accolades justly due that production, Ragtime has usurped the throne, and takes the crown for its own.

In any format, Ragtime is a work of epic proportion. Its dichotomous themes of rich and poor, tolerance and prejudice, reality and illusion, justice and revenge, are no less timely, thought-provoking, and occasionally may I say disturbing, today than they were in both 1975 and during the early 20th century period of America in which the work is set. Consequently any production calls for big sets, big music, and most importantly big performances. With its first-ever presentation of Ragtime, Mac-Haydn delivers on every level. With directorial skill as magical as the escapes and feats “performed” by Harry Houdini throughout the show, John Saunders has outdone himself with a production that entrances, entertains, intrigues, and even occasionally disturbs the audience.

Even without the gift of foresight or precognition, you know that as the first notes of ragtime music swirl through the theatre, the lives and fortunes of the characters are destined to collide, clash, and eventually coalesce. For just under 3 hours, the audience will watch the weaving of a tapestry that represents the melting pot of America, home to the complacent, well-off white upper class as well as including, initially on the fringes, the African American population of Harlem. This America is also a point of light shining in the distance, serving as beacon for the immigrants seeking a new and better life for the, and the children they bring with them.

“Prologue—Ragtime” presages the journey and the conflicts to come, as 3 seemingly disparate groups present themselves for our attention. With a swirling, circular rhythm, the stage fills with characters sharing the same space but not (yet) entwined and intermingled. Literally into the spotlight appear the white upper-crust and upper -class New Rochelle family of Mother, Father, Younger Brother, Grandfather and Little Boy, multiple citizens of Harlem led by the talented ragtime musician Coalhouse Walker Jr , and the Jewish immigrant Tateh and his Little Girl daughter who reach the shores of American seeking a life better than the one they left behind. Sprinkled throughout the opening are historical figures of the time: Harry Houdini..Booker T. Washington….J.P. Morgan….Emma Goldman…Henry Ford.. . Evelyn Nesbit…all of whom will enter the lives and dreams of the main characters , forcing them to connect, clash, unite and otherwise engage with each other with consequences sometimes joyful, sometimes tragic, but always mirroring the rippling movement of promise and progress sweeping the country.

And so.next, we begin to learn more about the principle players of the piece. As “Mother, “ Rachel Rhodes-Devey gives a beautiful portrayal of a woman who transforms from the dutiful, early 20th century Stepford wife shackled to home and hearth, to a woman not only discovering her place in the world–and her right to it—but defining her identity and self-worth and strength as an individual—with no man required. Fortunately for plot and character development, “Father” heads off on a expedition with Admiral Peary to the North Pole as both the show and the century begin.

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When Mother discovers a newborn black baby “buried” in her garden, she starts down the path to enlightenment as she ponders “What Kind of Woman” would deal with such a find. With a vocal performance capturing every nuance of the struggle Mother faces, Rhodes-Devey brings veracity and depth to the role, as she gives beautiful true voice to her journey . From an initial sense of panic and desperation as she struggles to cope without a husband to guide her, to the realization that she is fully capable of making the decision to take the child, and his mother Sarah, into her home and eventually her heart, Rhodes-Devey’s Mother epitomizes the “coming of age” of many a white woman of the time. Throughout the show, singular moments capture her growing awareness of both the rights and wrongs in her world —the white woman defiantly clutching a black baby literally to her heart, offering a black man not only entry to her home but sharing a glass of tea with him, sharing a conversation with an immigrant stranger to make up for her son Little Boy’s initial appalling lack of manners. She combines an almost ethereal fragility with a soon-to-be-discovered spine of steel. All Rhodes-Devey’s numbers throughout the show are strong, pure, and moving, but perhaps none more so than her paean to embracing her freedom as a free-thinking woman with the riveting “Back to Before” , delivering this ultimate declaration of independence and proclamation of emancipation with true star power, pathos and passion.

As Coalhouse Walker, Jr.–Harlem musician, father of Sarah’s baby, and passionate suitor determined to win back his Sarah, Tyrell Reggins steps onto the stage with all the majestic, dignified presence the role demands, and matches it with a voice that echoes off the rafters of the Mac’s barn-cum-theatre. The sheer joy with which he offers up “His name was Coalhouse Walker” and “Getting Ready Rag” has not only the cast but the audience stomping their feet, clapping hands, and swiveling their hips to the “new” ragtime music.

As Coalhouse pursues, persists and ultimately triumphs in his determination to attain his heart’s desire –the love of the beautiful Sarah– Reggins seems to physically grow in stature and in presence, as he swells with pride over his good fortune. “Wheels of a Dream”, his duet with Sarah, as the two reunited lovers share their hopes for their future together with their son, at the dawn of new century of promise, provides a signature moment in any production, and Reggins and Maya Cuevas make this number their own.

Sadly, that longed-for future is not be realized, and the dream is shattered too soon. Not only does Coalhouse suffer more mockery, scorn, racial injustice and derision at the hands of Emerald Isle fireman, whom he has previously encountered during his search and courting of Sarah in the virtually “white-only” neighborhood of New Rochelle, but his beloved Model T car is destroyed by the firehouse gang led and egged on by the bigoted Will Conklin. Conklin, outraged that a black man should own and drive his own car, spews a vitriolic diatribe liberally laced with “the N word” before destroying Coalhouse’s pride and joy. The loss not just of his car, but of any shred of respect and dignity to which he is humanly and humanely entitled spurs Coalhouse to his own levels of outrage, vowing to find “Justice” but alas, the system has none to offer him. Watching Reggins begin to seethe and swell with outrage for the way he, as a black man, is being mistreated and virtually denied justice or attention of any kind, is heartbreaking and chilling. His demeanor, his carriage, his facial expressions all mirror the growing anger and despair that ultimately will lead him to a violent end.

And then, as might be expected–tragedy strikes. Sarah, determined to help right the wrongs perpetrated against Coalhouse, is mistaken , by J.P. Morgan, no less, for a would-be assassin at a political campaign rally…and is beaten to death. There was more than one audible gasp from the house at the graphically-staged moment, which I chose to interpret as a sign that “they get it”– a moment the audience had total injustice and inequality and tragedy thrust upon them just as harshly and unfairly and strongly as it is for Sarah, and Coalhouse, and all the members of the Black community. As Act 1 concludes, that community mourns Sarah’s loss, and express their common grief and anger with a haunting, heart-rending “Till we reach that day” lament that leaves the audience in momentary silence as the lights fade to total darkness.

Coalhouse is left a bereaved, bitter, enraged man now bent on gaining revenge under the guise of justice for the losses he has suffered, and he resorts to violence and terror in the New Rochelle community where Mother has taken Sarah’s child into her home. Reggins brings Coalhouse’s rage to the fore with ever-increasing intensity, until a series of choices leads him to a last-ditch desperate effort to find justice for Sarah by taking over J.P. Morgan’s library. Thanks to the oratorical efforts of Booker T. Washington, played with conviction and a believable earnestness by William Taitel, Coalhouse comes to the realization that continued violence will do nothing to advance the cause of justice and equality, and moreover, is not the legacy he wants to leave his son. His final instructions to his supporters, who have joined him in his quest for revenge and justice, is “Make Them Hear you,”. Not a false note comes from this impressive performer throughout the show, but from the depths of his soul comes this final gut-wrenching plea that rivals the high bar set by Brian Stokes Mitchell, the original Coalhouse Walker in the Broadway production. As the last notes fade, Coalhouse walks out to face his fate with the same dignity and personal pride he brought to the Tempo Club in Harlem where we were first introduced.

Maya Cuevas is a Sarah entirely deserving of Coalhouse’s devotion and commitment. This is a role that demands a performer who can not only hold her own with the vocal numbers, but can bring Sarah to life with virtually no dialogue. Cuevas has the gift. While there is not a miscast role in this production, or less than fully-committed performance, in Cuevos surely we see the break-out star of the season. Her Sarah is by turns broken, poignant, desperate, heartbreaking, defiant, joyous and enraged, and she plays out each emotion with skill and subtlety. And her vocals…. Oh, her vocals ! “Your Daddy’s son” held the opening night audience in thrall, as she gave glorious voice to the anguish, pain, despair and torment of a woman forced to make a terrible choice. As previously mentioned, she matches Reggins note for note in “ Wheels of a Dream.” Audra McDonald, Broadway’s original Sarah, would be proud.

According to Cuevos’ program bio, she is “Expected” to graduate from the Hartt School in 2020, and I would expect that the ONLY possible reason she might not achieve that distinction would be if she were recruited for a regional or touring company before collecting her diploma. Let’s hope she becomes a returning artist at the Mac for many a year to come.

Mac-Haydn perennial favourite, and admittedly a personal one as well, Gabe Belyeu adds another remarkable performance to his repertoire as Tateh, the Jewish immigrant and fiercely protective father of Little Girl, whose rise from a simple seller of silhouettes to maker of movies reflects a rags to riches story dreamt of by so many immigrants as they made their way to America. Periodically crossing paths with Mother, Tateh is caught up in pivotal moments in history, experiencing labor strikes, racial injustice, violence and ultimately articulating his own American dream when he and Mother acknowledge their friendship turning to more in the lovely “Our Children.”

Belyeu always delivers solid, defined and personalized performances, taking a character and giving it his own unique style. In Ragtime, his interactions with Clementine Kline, as the Little Girl, aka Tateh’s daughter, are charming and heartfelt; he plays the fiercely protective father with aplomb and a real sense of care for the No Name child he cherishes. As the up and coming—and entirely self-created–moviemaker Baron Ashkenazy, Belyeu delights in romping through “Buffalo Nickel Photoplay Inc” , bringing a much needed touch of humor and lightness to the increasingly dark and heavy moments played out on stage.

In essential supporting roles, Steve Hassmer as Father, Julie Galorenzo as the anarchist and political activist Emma Goldman, and Kylan Ross as Younger Brother all have their moments crucial to the plot, and each perform their role with assurance and veracity. As Little Boy/Edgar, 11 year old Paxton Brownell takes the stage with the assurance of a veteran performer, and Clementine Kline plays her Little Girl role so well that you desperately want to reach out yourself and take her to a safe, warm home full of promise and love. Fortunately Tateh will ultimately provide that very dream for her.

Mac-Haydn notes that for this first-ever production of Ragtime, they have assembled the largest biggest cast ion its in-the-round stage, and without exception, this is a cast in its entirety that clearly not only recognizes the significance of the subject matters it addresses, but gives each and every moment and number the reverence and respect they deserve. Particularly effective in their roles are William Taitel as the activist Booker T. Washington, striving to bring the voice of reason into increasingly unreasonable situations, and Sarah Kawalek as Evelyn Nesbit, the “Girl on the Swing” who was thrust, or more accurately thrust herself, into notoriety following the “Crime of the Century” when her husband murdered her wealthy lover. As Harry Houdini, Andrew Burton Kelley appears in and out of the chains he magically unfetters; his connection with Little Boy adds intriguing moments of prescience and mysticism.

Sebastiano Romagnolo choreographs for Ragtime, and once again he continues to put his signature style on full and brilliant display. From the foot-stomping, jubilant ragtime musical numbers to the rally-turned riot “The Night that Emma Goldman spoke at Union Square” and everything in-between, Romagnolo puts this huge, youthful cast through their paces with precision and perfection. Every dance step, every hand gesture, every turn and movement is as sharp, as soft, as fluid, as it should be. At times the round stage pulses and pounds and throbs, almost threatening to burst or collapse from the movement, but that only adds to the authenticity of the piece, reflecting the swelling population pounding the pavements, strolling the beaches, and otherwise inserting themselves into the new family portrait of America.

Jimm Halliday has costumed the show to perfection, and with a cast as large as this, and with the almost uncountable costume changes as the ensemble doubles, triples and probably even quadruples in portraying the assortment of supporting characters, that is no mean feat. Every costume is as unique as the character who wears it, and yet Halliday creates a cohesive and authentic look for the entire production. From the opening number onward, Halliday’s deft hand with fashion and period costuming is on display in all its deserving glory. The light, ethereal, airy costuming in tones of white and softest lace and linen perfectly captures the soon-to-be shattered innocence of the New Rochelle suburbanites, while the Harlem dwellers in red and black tones personify the pulsing, tinkling notes of the new Ragtime music taking hold. The opening of Act 2 is a lovely nod, or homage, to the classic Bob Mackie style, with variations of black and white making a statement as much about the changing racial climate as about fashion choices.

On a technical side note….given the rapidity and frequency with which characters enter and exit, one can’t help but wonder how many dressers may be lurking behind the scenes to assist with the costume changes. A shout-out to those unsung heroes…

Matthew Oliver’s hair and make-up design also strikes perfect notes, again not an easy task with so many cast members requiring so many specialized looks to capture the essence of the characters.

While its themes of discrimination, prejudice, intolerance, injustice make it almost uncomfortable to watch at times, this a glorious production in every respect, and deserves the attention and the applause of a full house for every performance. It is perhaps a consummation devoutly to be wished that certain of our current national leaders and those in positions of leadership and policy could be exposed to the power of this production of Ragtime, in hopes they would learn and heed the lessons so powerfully and forcefully portrayed. Frankly, we are perhaps all the better for having our complacency a little shaken, our norms a little questioned, our darker side a little exposed, delivered in the guise of a stunning musical experience.

Ragtime with book by Terrance McNally, music by Stephen Flaherty and lyrics by Lynne Aherns continues at the Mac-Haydn Theatre from July 25 through August 4. Directed by Producing Artistic Director John Saunders, choreography by Sebastiani Romagnolo, music direction by David Maglione. costumes by Jim Halliday, scenic and lighting design Andrew Gmoser. Sound design by Corbin White, hair and make-up design Matthew Oliver. CAST: Rachel Rhodes-Devey as Mother, Tyrell Reggins as Coalhouse Walker, Jr., Maya Cuevas as Sarah, Gabe Belyeu as Tateh, Kylan Ross as Younger Brother, Steve Hassmer as Father, Clementine Kline as The Little Girl, Paxton Brownell as The Little Boy, William Taitel as Booker T. Washington, Sarah Kawalek as Evelyn Nesbit, Andrew Burton Kelley as Harry Houdini, Julie Galorenzo as Emma Goldman. The show runs 2 hours and 45 minutes with 1intermission.

REVIEW: “Ragtime” at the Mac-Haydn Theatre As a former librarian, I am almost always wont to pronounce “the book was better” or “read the book” when presented with a film or stage adaptation of a printed or published work.

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