The Mountain Play - Fiddler on the Roof Review Roulette
It is interesting that this year’s Mountain Play should start with the words “Tradition, tradition . . . without our tradition our lives would be as shaky as . . . as a fiddler on the roof.”
Given the plethora of lifestyle choices confronting Bay Area residents, it seems that any tradition is in imminent danger of being drummed into extinction or obsolescence either by the infinite array of competing possibilities or by the march of time. But, one Marin County tradition continues to survive the evolutionary pressures presented by cable television, the Internet, the gas barbeque grill, the swimming pool and the shopping mall.
That enduring tradition, stretching back to 1913, would be the Mountain Play of Marin County. The Mountain Play owes its survival in part to another enduring Marin County tradition, James Dunn, whose personal tradition of excellence is reflected in every production he directs.
This year, MR Dunn, the multi award-winning director, brings the multi award-winning musical: FIDDLER ON THE ROOF, to the sylvan stage.
With the Scenic Supervision of Kenneth Rowland, Set Dresser and Properties Designer, Carol Selig attentively recreates the Jewish shtetl of Anatevka within the Cushing Memorial Amphitheatre: A 4000-seat theater, gently and unobtrusively sculpted into the natural
contours of the eastern slope of Mount Tamalpais.
While the Pale of Settlement, the historical setting of this musical, is just a fading, ignoble piece of dark Russian-European history, the lessons and conflicts presented in FIDDLER ON THE ROOF will always be apart of the human condition.
Tevye, the Dairyman, is the creation of Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem. Sholem Aleichem (a pseudonym which literally translates to “peace be upon you”) is the creation of Sholem Rabinovich: a state-appointed Jewish clerical functionary in the Ukraine, circa 1894.
Tevye was described by Aleichem as the Jewish version of Rousseau’s noble savage: “a healthy, broadly built Jew, dark and hairy, hard to tell his age, wearing large boots and a grimy cloak over a warm undershirt, even in the greatest heat . . . Tevye is always eager to talk, loves a folk saying, a proverb, a snippet of Scripture; he’s no scholar, but he’s no ignoramus either when it comes to Hebrew print.”
To his credit, MR Dunn has appropriately cast the robust Bruce Vieira, the Zero Mostel of Marin, as Tevye. MR Vieira, in addition to matching the physical proportions of Tevye, lends the necessary Biblical and heroic proportions to his character: a poor struggling Dairy Farmer in an obscure, rural community, who is vastly rich in spirit, wisdom and wit: a veritable Solomon of the shtelt.
To Tevye every problem he confronts can be reduced to a simple dichotomy: on one hand is Tradition: presumably the Will of God, and on the other hand there is the will and the interests of the individual. For Tevye, life involves reconciling the two.
Rick Wallace, the choreographer, adds action and the real seasoning to this production. Rick has no left feet when it comes to Jewish or Russian Folk dancing. His curriculum vita includes active memberships in the Khadra International Folk Ballet, the Massenkoff Russian Folk
Festival and the Neva Russian Dance Festival.
Unless you enjoy flying for 18 hours in coach, you won’t see better folk dancing than what MR Wallace has honed for this show. Rick’s dance team is fortunate enough to have six specialty dancers, headed by Vladimir Riazantsev, a soloist from the Moseiyev Company and Dave
Boyet, a master of Soviet dance styles.
Award winning costume designer, Patricia Polen, who has outfitted the casts of over seventy-five shows, has modestly and authentically adored the cast of this play in folksy Abercrombie-Yiddish attire that would make the Rabbi of Anatevka smile with orthodox approval.
And who said that West Marin was devoid of thespian talent? Tim Ryan of Point Reyes proves to audiences that there are no small parts, only small actors. Tim, cast as Mordcha, keeps the stereotype of the opportunistic, short-shot, innkeeper alive.
Every musical has at least one conspicuously great voice and this show has the mellifluous Nina Josephs as Hodel. MS Josephs’ voice is no musical fluke: she is soon to graduate, with a Bachelor’s of Music from the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.
Sandi Weldon as Yente, contributes a disproportionate share of comedy to the show. As the Matchmaker, gossip, kibitzer and general meddling busy body, she is enough to drive anyone off the prying shtelt and into the big city anonymity Vienna.
Given the show is performed al fresca, equity animals are generally part of the cast, this year, Cow, contentedly played by Holstein Cow, is directed by Cow Handler Jim Reid. To everyone’s relief Cow kept her performance PG13 and did not require a manure fork.
Equestrian Emily Kruger was the Horse Handler that kept the Russian Constable, played by Chad Yarish, tall in his saddle.
The Mountain Play is the cement that holds the artistic community of Marin together. The conspicuous quality, unstintingly delivered by everyone involved, is the hallmark of this community masterpiece.
For tickets to what is indisputably one of the West Coast’s greatest traditions, call 415 383-1100 or visit the website at www.MountainPlay.org
Jeffrey R Smith is a member of the S.F. Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle.
THE PRICE Reviewed by Jeffrey R Smith of the S.F. Bay Area Theatre Critics Circle
Had Detroit sustained the tradition of quality control scrupulously maintained by the Ross Valley Players, its market share would never have been whittled down to a paltry fifty-three percent of U.S. auto sales. Its current offering, THE PRICE by Arthur Miller, has all the digitalized technical precision of a pricey import yet it has the analogue feel of an classic American Dream Machine.
Watching the highly dysfunctional Victor Franz (superbly played by Dale Camden) and his enabling wife Esther Franz (remarkably played by an eleventh-hour under-study: Susan Suomi) one cannot help shedding a little honest light onto one’s own life.
Miller wrote the play as a metaphor for the national psychology that pervaded the nineteen-sixties: a mindset that embroiled and mired us in Vietnam. Yet, the play seems to function equally well on the individual level and in the twenty-first century.
The play is a bit of family psychotherapy. Victor Franz, a New York City Police Officer, lives a bitter, resentful life crippled by the whining, kvetching sisters: Shoulda, Coulda and Woulda. The blame game, deliberate distortions of the past, perpetuating family myths, and a misplaced, twisted sense of self-sacrifice are the delusional tempera that Victor uses paint himself into a cynical corner of self-deceit and self-defeat.
Like the 50,000 lives McNamara and Westmoreland invested in Vietnam, Victor too has a costly investment to protect: rather than live a successful life, Victor dramatically scales back his expectations, just as Nixon did when his goal of winning the war was scaled down to the ambiguously hollow “peace with honor.” No real objectives survived, just a murky, vague assumption that honor is somehow miraculously commensurate with the profundity of human sacrifice.
Victor’s stubborn determination to believe he made honorable choices in early life, lead him to a lifetime of under-achievement, penury and mediocrity. He is badgered and hounded by the truth. But, rather than confront his past and the ill-informed choices of his seminal years, Victor protects the lies he has imprudently invested in. To defend the absurdity of his life, Victor mans the ramparts: deflecting all assaults of truth launched by his successful, self-actualizing brother Walter. Like a hog in mud, Victor rolls and languishes in the arbitrary lies he has chosen to live by. As a fool returns to his folly, so too does Victor cling to the false pretenses that have distorted his life.
So is there any levity? Hey this is Arthur Miller, but enter Mister Gregory Solomon, a Jewish Zorba the Greek figure that is an expert on going on living long after the thrill of living should have been gone. As Mister Solomon, Norman A. Hall is the fresh air, the leavening in the play: He plays an endearing jester who puts new options on the table and then sits back to see if anyone takes the bait.
For quality theater, cultural enrichment and family psychotherapy to boot, this play is just the ticket. And, it is cheaper than a real psychotherapist. To reserve tickets call the box office at 415 925-9200.
In this case, they best describe the West Coast Premiere of Paul Weitz’s ROULETTE at the San Francisco Playhouse.
The play seems to have found the center of gravity of theater itself: it is situated midway between farce and melodrama and halfway betwixt comedy and tragedy.
If Mamet, Miller and Albee were the vertices of a triangle, then this seriously funny play by Weitz would be located at its centroid.
Before any actor has begun to “strut and fret his hour upon the stage” the audience is already engaged: admiring and coveting the marvelous stage design by Bill English.
MR English, in addition to being an award winning actor and director, is apparently an architect, interior designer, decorator, carpenter, handy-man and an artist.
Bill’s versatile set is elegant enough for a Noel Coward play and it makes a real home look like a set design for TOBACCO ROAD.
And then, there is the play: it is airtight: flawlessly executed yet without seeming mechanically rigid.
Director Susi Damilano has punctuated the play with the precisely choreographed exits and entrances of bedroom farce, and a brisk cadence which rightfully leaves the audience to do more thinking after the play than during the play.
The play is not necessarily an wholesale indictment of the American model of success, although it does point out the ironies and contradictions of the “hunter–gatherer” paradigm in a modern world.
Before departing for the office, paterfamilias Jon, treats himself to coffee, the morning newspaper and a round of Russian Roulette.
Assuming he wins at Roulette and beats the reaper, he grabs his briefcase and trudges off to the hunting grounds of corporate America.
As the cash cow that keeps the whole Aspidistra flying, Jon gets less respect than Rodney Dangerfield.
Jon’s wife, Enid, is caught in mid-life estrus and is trysting with puer eternis Steve: Jon’s friend and neighbor.
Jon’s rebel-without-a-clue, sixteen-year-old daughter Jenny is self-righteously dissing Dad and miss-directing her adolescent energies from high school academics to college level concupiscence.
His college son, Jock, sensing the world he is about to inherit, is slipping into pedestrian road-rage.
Just when you think things couldn’t get any worse for Jon, he loses a round of Russian Roulette.
Blame it on the bullet or blame it on Jon, but after the cranial bandages are removed, Jon seems entirely reluctant to step back into his old familiar traces and reshoulder his former yoke.
Instead, Jon enters a new chimerical, Scott Fitzgerald world: one of cruise ships, dapper evening attire, champagne, island paradises, jazz bands and snappy attentive bell hops.
Appropriately, his departure to a fractured la-la-land marks the arrival of everyone else in the muck of reality: Jock goes to work at Jon’s former office, Enid gives up motel rooms on the meter with Steve, and Jenny puts her father ahead of her hormones.
Obviously this play started with a great script, but it is sustained by great acting.
Bill English, whether acting or directing, adheres to the same exacting set of superlative thespian standards.
Mollie Stickney, who delightfully plays Steve’s wife: Virginia, is marvelous as the emotionally fried pixy who in the denouement opts for a simple nunnery over bourgeois suburbia and the neurotic pleasures of browsing catalogues and loading up the plastic.
Joseph Rende is absolutely hilarious as the totally wired Jock.
If you live anywhere north of the Panama Canal and enjoy quality theater, this play is a must.
For tickets to serious comedy, check the website at www.sfplayhouse.org or call the box office at 415 677-9596.