Well-meaning folksiness isn't good enough for dealing with anti-Semitism Fiddler on the Roof Savoy Theatre, London WC2

Henry Goodman's trawl through all the great Jewish roles that have ever been created for the western stage continues with his twinkly, charming Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof. Goodman may lack the physical enormity of Zero Mostel, who first created the role in the classic 1964 musical, or the height of Topol, but he makes up for this with his undoubted stage charisma and sheer joy at inheriting the part of the impoverished milkman in pre-revolutionary rural Russia.

From the outset, Lindsay Posner's revival feels as homely as a headscarf. The men are all in stout leather boots and the mothers in aprons; the sons are full of brawn and the daughters modesty. Singing about "tradition", everyone circles in Peter McKintosh's grim set, constructed entirely from brown wooden planks. There's a fiddler up on the roof, but not a sequin in sight. It is wholesome and worthy, but utterly lacking in snappiness.

At first, however, you are willing to give it the benefit of the doubt, largely because Goodman, who is a clever and subtle performer, looks happy enough. But after about 15 minutes, it becomes clear that wholesome and worthy do not make for an interesting night at the theatre. Revivals of musical masterpieces can be a joy, but only if they are given fresh impetus. The story of how a doting father copes with all his daughters rejecting their arranged marriages, set against the backdrop of the Jewish pogroms in Russia, is certainly theatrical, but the archaic niceness of Posner's production, and its length, manage to turn a human drama into a bit of a yawn.

The men who fall for Tevye's daughters are all fundamentally well-meaning. The girls are as pure as the snow that occasionally falls and causes everyone to rush around in extremely drab blankets. The ominous butcher who has been set up to marry the eldest daughter is rather soft-hearted, and even the nasty Russian guards who wreck her eventual wedding to Motel the tailor are a bit apologetic about their anti-Semitism.

Indeed, the final displacement of the village inhabitants is achieved with a cheery pragmatism. Given three days to clear their belongings, the villagers troop off, packing cases on their wagons, with suitcases in hand, as if they were engaged on a sort of gap-year treat. Tension and tragic consequence, two of the mainstays of musical theatre, are absent.

To avoid the charge of total cynic: I know that charming, old-style "family" musicals such as Oklahoma! or Anything Goes have been revived in London recently to huge acclaim. But those were done with a wealth of contemporary twists. What's more, they have a formidable barrage of knock-out tunes, whereas Fiddler has only one great song in its arsenal. Which arrives ten minutes in to the evening. Frankly, once you have heard Goodman wishing he was a rich man, and deedle-daidling away with his twinkling eyes and his bushy beard, you have experienced the high point of the show. From then on, it's a long night involving Tevye talking to God, hand-wringing about his daughters, and (from the rest of the company) copious foot-stamping, finger-clicking and effortless knee-bouncing, particularly from the Russian soldiers, whose thighs must be things of wonder.

The production makes a point of using the original choreography by the late Jerome Robbins, which has been faithfully reproduced by Sammy Dallas Bayes. Bayes should have been stricter with his material, because Robbins's work has not aged well. The dance sequences are far too long and overly repetitive, and, far from taking us on to the Russian steppes, they reminded me more of those parties at which everyone holds on to everyone else's shoulders and hops around to the song from Zorba the Greek.

Perhaps that is the problem with this well-meaning show, which unfolds with zero menace, as well as a complete lack of irony and knowing humour. While it comes with a great deal of Jewish self-deprecating gags, there are no real belly-laughs. And in a town where Mel Brooks's iconoclastic The Producers has only just closed after a triumphant run, taking on the whole Jewish shtick as reverently and innocently as Fiddler does now seems rather sweetly dated.

For further info and booking details visit: http://www.savoy-theatre.co.uk

Pick of the week

Taking Care of Baby
Hampstead Theatre, London NW3
Hardline play by Dennis Kelly about family murder. His last stage work, Osama the Hero, was astonishing.

Equus
Gielgud Theatre, London W1
Last chance to see Daniel Radcliffe with his kit off, if you're interested.

King Lear/The Seagull
Courtyard, Stratford-upon-Avon
Now, you can go armed with what the critics have had to say about this Ian McKellen fest.

Post your comment

Please note: you will need to login or register before you can comment on the website