By starting Fiddler on the Roof at 7.45pm, Jordan Fein’s revival contrived that Sunrise, Sunset – the musical’s devastating lament for the speed of spent life – was sung as darkness fell on Regent’s Park on Tuesday. Only outdoor theatre could contrive such a sublime effect.
But there are other benefits. Trevor Nunn’s memorable 2018 version used the tight confines of the Menier Chocolate Factory to emphasise the cheek-by-jowl poverty and claustrophobia of the shtetl Anatevka in 1905, while Fein uses his venue to emphasise the community’s vulnerability – literally with no roof over their heads and surrounded by woods from which the Russian tsar’s pogrom police suddenly appear.
Where Nunn emphasised tragedy, Fein foregrounds comedy, setting the piece in the tradition of deflective Jewish humour from Sholem Aleichem (Fiddler’s source author) to Mel Brooks and Woody Allen. Tevye’s Dream, in which the milkman father of five daughters resurrects his late mother-in-law to break a wedding bargain, is played as a fast full-cast farce (choreography by Julia Cheng).
As Tevye, Broadway import Adam Dannheisser perfectly times the one-liners (“Am I gonna have another dream?” when another filial match unravels) but also conveys the character’s deep faith: in If I Were a Rich Man, the true bonus of wealth is more time for synagogue. Lara Pulver as his wife Golde radiates the brains and determination – a 60-year-old show about marrying off daughters is surprisingly feminist – that have made an arranged marriage in extreme poverty work.
Fein (who revolutionised Oklahoma! at the Young Vic) and musical supervisor Mark Aspinall subtly tweak the soundscape. The title character, thrillingly fiddled by Raphael Papo, shadows Tevye like a golem, duetting and adding cadenzas. The show’s final notes are a surprise, throwing the action forwards.
As score and text, Fiddler is not, for me, quite the equal of two other Broadway classics simultaneously available in London: Guys and Dolls (at the Bridge) and Kiss Me, Kate (at the Barbican). Some of their best songs come after the interval, while Fiddler frontloads its showstoppers. However, the work always soars in performance and this version demonstrates its depth.
Alarmingly, the theatre has acknowledged employing extra security due to pro-Palestinian protests. Beyond the horror of creatives and material being targeted for assumed affiliations and beliefs, the reaction misrepresents the piece. It was written in 1964 to reflect the Holocaust through an earlier persecution. But later productions, including this, invite the audience to see the emigrating chorale, Anatevka – which is spine-tinglingly sung here by two dozen cast members with the cohesion of a real community – as a broader reflection of displacement and refugee status.
At Regent’s Park Open Air theatre, London, until 21 September
