My friend Sue and I attended a performance of Fiddler on the Roof at Barrington Stage tonight. I first saw this musical in 1964 at the Imperial Theatre in New York. That's a long time ago. Starring were Zero Mostel, Maria Karnilova, Bea Arthur, Austin Pendelton, Bert Convy, and, later in the run, Bette Midler. That's quite a cast.
In the ensuing years I have more or less forgotten the story line. It is based on the short stories of Solomon Rabinovich, whose pen name was Sholem Aleichem. This is a Yiddish expression which translates something like 'How do you do?'.
It follows the life of Tevye, the milkman, his wife, and his five daughters who live in the village of Anatevka, a Schtetl in Russia. They are beset by joys and woes, mostly woes, and are finally forced to leave their village in a pogrom. These were especially vicious between 1881 and 1884, when the Jews were blamed for the assasination of Tsar Alexander II. These riots forced many to leave their native Russian and seek safety elsewhere.
The music is by Jerry Bock, the lyrics by Sheldon Harnick, and the book by Joseph Stein. The production by Barrington Stage was both good and bad, as far as I was concerned. Good in the sense that all of the actors seemed right for their roles, bad in the sense that they all seemed to think that they had to shout both their lines and their songs. Even thought miked to the hilt, the volume from the stage was a roar all through the first act. I would have enjoyed an occasional lull here and there.
Brad Oscar as Tevye has a splendid voice. He uses it to excess much of the time, but he was very good in the part. Joanna Glushak as Golde could sing sweetly at times but opted for the rule: 'When in doubt, belt'.
The rest of the cast had varying success with their roles. Most of the women were pushing their voices out of reason.
A voice teacher should never be allowed to attend a performance like this!
I also realised that I had never particularly liked the musical. The obvious 'hit songs', 'Tradition', Sunrise, Sunset', and 'If I were a richman', stood the test of time fairly well. But, especially in Act 2, the musical inspiration ran out and much of the music is banal.
The play, which is so energetic and loud in Act 1, peters out and, as the story becomes grim, wanders off to nowhere.
There was some sensational dancing, based on the choreography of Jerome Robbins by Gary John La Rosa, who also directed the show.