When the original 1964 production of Fiddler on the Roof premiered on Broadway, the character of Tevye, a struggling, big-hearted, Torah-quoting milkman from the Russian shtetl, Anatevka, moved into the lexicon of Broadway theater's standout characters. Of course, Tevya was already known to readers of Sholem Rabinovich, aka Sholem Aleichem, the “Jewish Mark Twain,” who wrote short stories about the vivid characters of the impoverished Yiddish-speaking villages of Russia. Under the sensitive leadership of director/actor Joel Grey, Fiddler remains as touching as ever, with the book by Joseph Stein and the music by Jerry Bock with Sheldon Harnick’s lyrics. Tevye explains the title. "In our little village of Anatevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck." What keeps them balanced? One word, "Tradition." But, Tevye adds, "It isn't easy." The National Yiddish Theater Folksbiene’s revival of Fiddler on the Roof at Stage 42, was translated into Yiddish by Shraga Friedman. But take it from me, you don't have to understand Yiddish to appreciate this extraordinary work about surviving through the upheavals of life. I don't know Yiddish, except for the few words I picked up growing up in Brooklyn. On both sides of the stage, there are supertitles in English and Russian (the Russian Jews' second language, spoken only to Russians), and the show is as authentic as the language heard on the streets of Borough Park. Lusty and dynamic, Tevye here is played by the remarkable Steven Skybell, his physical and facial expressiveness telling the story with nuance, depth, and irony, yet never over-the-top. The balance of his life is about to turn upside down in several ways. First, three of his five daughters reject the traditions of matchmaking in favor of often-surprising love. Although the eldest, Tsaytl (Rachel Zatcof), is promised to a well-off but much older butcher, Leyser-Volf (Bruce Sabath), she has long loved a poor tailor, Motl (played by Ben Leibert). He is the one she wants to marry, and Tevye, underneath his man-of-the-house bluster, is really a softie. He concocts a zany fake dream segment to convince his wife, Golde (Jennifer Babiak), to allow their child to marry her true love. His second daughter, Hodl (Stephanie Lynne Mason) chooses a political revolutionary, Pertshik (Drew Siegla) and when she insists on following him to Siberia, Tevye gives in. At the train station, the goodbye song she shares with her heartbroken father is the show's most poignant ballad, “Far From the Home I Love.” Yet most difficult for Tevye to bear comes when their the third daughter, Khave (Rosie Jo Neddy) chooses Fyedke (Cameron Johnson), a Russian—a non-Jew! Tevye turns his back on Khave. At the end, however, he manages to whisper "God be with you" in the final moments before they are separated, probably forever, as all the Jews in Anatevka are evicted and must emigrate to new lands. Sharing his travails are his hard-working and forbearing wife, Golde. She is given a likable portrayal by soprano, Jennifer Babiak. Comic actor, Jackie Hoffman is still funny, delivering a more likeable, lower-keyed Yente, the pushy matchmaker. The cast performances are all enlivened with depths of joy, fear and sorrow. Staging by Joel Grey is spare, with set designer Beowolf Boritt's creation of the shtetl with brown paper backdrop bearing one word "Torah." Costumes by Ann Hould-Ward are earth tones for the Jews, while Russians stand out by bearing bands of red. The music is varied with emotions, from exuberance celebrating, "To Life," and Motl's joyful "Miracle of Miracles" when he learns he can marry Tsaytl, to the tenderness of time passing with "Sunrise Sunset." The humor of "If I Were a Rich Man" (changed to "If I Were a Rothschild" referring to the wealthy class) remains an audience favorite. A vibrant 12-piece orchestra is conducted by Zalmen Mlotek. The heavy rhythmic steps of "Anatevke" leads the exiles as they leave their lifetime homes, dragging their belongings. Before Tevye exits the stage, he turns back to Der Fidler, a graceful Lauren Jeanne Thomas, who has deftly accompanied the story. He signals to her to join them. It is a wry reminder that the slippery balance of tradition remains.
