Joshua Henry and Nichelle Lewis Photo by Joan Marcus

Even lightly staged, Ragtime, with music by Stephen Flaherty, lyrics by Lynn Ahrens, and book by Terrence McNally, is big (cast of 39). It is loud (so much so, that twice my smart watch sent me a message warning me about exposure to too many decibels). And it is both grand and flawed, sort of like the early 20th century America it tries to capture in its adaptation from E. L. Doctorow's equally sprawling novel of the same title.

To begin with, it's hard to imagine William David Brohn's Tony-winning orchestrations sounding any more rousing than they are in the hands of music director James Moore and the 27-piece orchestra. And thanks to Kai Harada's sound design, every note (as well as every lyric) fills the house with a clarity that any Broadway theater would do well to emulate.

And then there's the cast, about which the operant word is WOW! There is not a weak link among them, and so many of the performances are 24K gold. Let's start at the top and say that Joshua Henry at the height of his powers is giving an extraordinarily rich performance as Coalhouse Walker, full of love, pride, a naïve but determined belief in the American system of justice, and a sad and burning sense of loss. With every spoken word, every sung note, every phrase of lyric, Henry gives us a thoroughly fleshed-out portrait of a Black American living in this country a mere 40 years after slavery was abolished. And the love of Coalhouse's life, Sarah, is being given a beautiful heart-on-her-sleeves portrayal by Nichelle Lewis. Together and individually, they own the stage, and the show itself feels a little bit bereft when they are not around.

The story of Coalhouse and Sarah is worthy of an opera, and Ragtime itself at times to seem to aspire to that form, filled as it is with lush numbers that, for all their soaring qualities, rise above what we generally might think of "anthemic songs," in the manner of, say, Les Misérables. A prime example here is the Act II opening, "Coalhouse's Soliloquy," which blows us out of the water but without the bombast we associate with blowing off the roof, such as occurs in the Act I closing number, "Till We Reach That Day," led by a crystal-and-soul shattering Tiffany Mann as Sarah's Friend.

The Cast Photo by Joan Marcus

There's the New Rochelle family, enacted by Colin Donnell as Father, Tom Nelis as the crotchety and overtly racist Grandfather, Matthew Lamb, perfect as the prescient Little Boy, Ben Levi Ross as Mother's Younger Brother, and, more worthy of our attention than anyone else in her family, Caissie Levy as Mother, a woman who finds herself only when her husband embarks on a year-long adventure to the North Pole with Admiral Peary, played by John Rapson, who also doubles as J. P. Morgan.

Representing the great influx of immigrants looking for a better life are Brandon Uranowitz, terrific as Tateh, and Tabitha Lawing as The Little Girl. And kudos as well to Shaina Taub as activist Emma Goldman, Rod Cyrus as Harry Houdini, Stephanie Styles as Evelyn Nesbit, John Clay III as Booker T. Washington, and Jeff Kready as Henry Ford. Every one of them is worthy of singling out, and if I left anyone off this list, my apologies.

If, during its nearly three-hour journey, Ragtime falters in Act II (do we really need the genial interludes offered by the baseball and Atlantic City songs?), it does pick up again with two more real gems: Caissie Levy's rendition of "Back to Before" (which takes on a most contemporary meaning for the audience) and Joshua Henry's moving performance of "Make Them Hear You." No doubt, Ragtime covers a massive amount of territory for one musical, but, damn, it is good, and this City Center production is first-class all the way.