A stripped-down production of a musical can reveal hidden depths and new layers if the show is right. For example, Sweeney Todd and Company both benefited from a less-is-more approach. Ragtime, however, does not.

Peeled back to a set comprised of girders, with a minimum of props, the Washington, D.C., production has moved to Broadway, complete with most of its original cast. But director Marcia Milgrom Dodge’s bare-bones version doesn’t prove that Ragtime is a musical for the ages. Instead, it comes across as a poorly constructed show that benefits from a few rousing numbers from songwriters Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens. Bookwriter Terrence McNally, who has done superlative work in the genre, seems to have cribbed most of his structure from a class presentation in a high school history class.

Ragtime follows a triptych of unlikely stories in the early years of the 20th century. There’s the middle-class New Rochelle family, written so blandly that McNally eschews identifying them as anyone other than Mother and Father them; poor immigrants looking for the American dream; and the African Americans who must contend with racism. The big song is “Wheels of a Dream,” but it’s unclear what dream the characters are riding on. The disingenuously optimistic ending—complete with updates on the later lives of both the fictional characters and the real-life historical ones—seems to suggest that life for minorities vastly improved over the course of the century, which is undoubtedly true. But it’s not as if racism ceased to exist, or new minorities didn’t take up the brunt of invective from the smug American middle class.

Cast with solid performers, this Ragtime never takes flight the way it needs to in order to fully involve the audience. The characters are perfectly calibrated archetypes: They need stars to bring their individualistic personas to bear on them. The closest we get is Bobby Steggert as Mother’s Younger Brother, the only actor on stage who exhibits real fire as his character becomes increasingly radicalized.

As the doomed Sarah, Stephanie Umoh barely registers in a role originated by Audra McDonald. And though Quentin Earl Darrington is a strong singer and actor, his emotions seem dictated by his bombastic song’s requirements, rather than the other way around.

Most distracting are Dodge’s directorial flourishes. After the brutal murder of Sarah at a political rally, the other characters silently drop their American flags. The moment is so self-conscious that I started marveling at the easy emotionalism of the scene, rather than feeling the devastation of Sarah’s death. That’s the problem with ITAL Ragtime ITAL: We’re so busy gawking at the elaborate story and soaring melodies that we never really succumb to the story.

Ragtime

ITAL Open run, the Neil Simon Theatre, 250 W. 52nd St. (betw. Broadway & 8th Ave.), 212-307-4100; times vary, $46.50­–$126.50. ITAL