Reviews and Features
YIDDISH HUMORIST EMBODIED IN VETERAN ACTOR’S SOLO SHOW
The Miami Herald
By Christine Dolen
January 30, 2009
Theodore Bikel poses a brief series of poignant questions just moments into Sholom Aleichem: Laughter Through Tears, his touching solo show that is in South Florida for a too-brief run.
''What will you remember when these seats are cold?'' asks the celebrated actor, who will celebrate his 85th birthday in a few months. ``Will you remember me? What will remain?''Bikel is speaking on behalf of himself, of course, and about the stage actor's ephemeral art. But he is also musing about the man he portrays, the great Yiddish humorist Sholom Aleichem; about Yiddish language, arts and literature; about a cultural richness that fewer and fewer remember first hand.
Speaking to a packed Parker Playhouse on opening night, Bikel easily connected with a mostly older, predominantly Jewish audience. When he first uttered the pen name of Ukranian-born author Sholem Rabinovich, dozens of folks responded ''sholom aleichem,'' which translates as ''peace be with you.'' This crowd was with Bikel from the get-go.
What he manages throughout his 90-minute show, however, takes work and seasoned artistry: As performer and creator of Sholom Aleichem, Bikel keeps observers rapt, balancing light-hearted moments with sobering ones, singing in that rich voice, and once again definitively embodying Tevye the dairyman.
The production, which premiered at Theater J in Washington, D.C., last month under Derek Goldman's direction, is simple. Just Bikel, a couple of chairs, a podium (Sholom Aleichem wrote standing up), a curving framework to hold Zachary Borovay's projections of photographs and paintings. Pianist Tamara Brooks (Bikel's wife) and accordionist Merima Kljuco sit partially concealed upstage, their musical contributions vital yet unobtrusive.
It is the energetic Bikel, his snow-white hair and beard the only hints of his age, who must call forth long-ago worlds, along with characters of many ages and both genders as he mixes the story of an author and the famous tales he created.
Mostly, Bikel does this beautifully. He becomes a wildly imaginative boy and a punishment-happy rabbi in one sequence. He details a crazy ride through Sholom Aleichem's fictional Kasrilevke in another. He shows us a different Tevye singing a different song from the ones Bikel has sung more than 2,000 times in Fiddler on the Roof.
As with any new show, Sholom Aleichem: Laughter Through Tears could still stand some tinkering. It isn't that the briskly played piece is too long; the length feels just right. But greater clarity in transitions, which could come from the dialogue and the design elements, would help draw audiences more deeply into a world painted in tandem by an artist of the page and one of the stage.
