Last night, my mother treated my birthday-girl daughter and a friend to "Fiddler on the Roof" at our local, new, spiffy performing arts center.
I felt as if history was being made.
Not only because the lead role, Tevye, was being played by the 73-year old Topol, who first played the role some 42 years ago (in the 1967
production in London and the 1971
film).
When I was my daughter's age, I saw this man's name in the newspaper. 30 years later, my daughter saw the same man play the same role. Awe-inspiring.
No, it wasn't just because of that.
It was also because this new spiffy performing arts center in our city is a true roll of the dice, a gamble that people will continue to come out and see live theater and other performances rather than stay in, watch Internet TV, and update their status on Facebook.
It felt quaint, frankly, to be watching real people perform live songs to the accompaniment of an actual orchestra. All these professionals, being paid to do a professional job that costs an unspeakable amount of money, and by implication asking their audience to pay an unspeakable amount of money to watch them.
It was magnificent. A luxury.
I saw a production of "Fiddler" at a beloved high school where I taught. It was dear. One of my students played Tevye, and he did well. Ever afterwards, whenever we were to do a difficult grammar point or quiz, he would say "Is this really necessary?" and we would break up laughing. The other students in the class, especially the ones who hadn't seen the show, got good and fed up with our in-joking behavior.
"Fiddler" with Topol, nevertheless, was worlds better. No comparison. It was the reason we have professional arts.
I asked myself, are we, in our present poverty of money, and in our present substitution of Internet and reality shows for arts and culture-- are we capable still of shelling out consistently for such good shows, to make them pay and help them survive?
It is a historical time, indeed.
Then, the final nudge from history: "Fiddler" is about continuity and change, and how a father cannot freeze time, and I felt this truth very deeply this time.
Tevye has five daughters, three of whom are of marriageable age. None of them want to make the marriage that he wants, even though traditionally the Jewish patriarch is the one who decides whom his daughters will marry.
I looked over at my girl, already over the threshold of adolescence, with her makeup on, and her high heels. I keep telling her she will not date till she's 26. Recently she quizzed her mom, and found out that Mom and I got married before we were 26. So clearly I cannot be serious, or I am a hypocrite.
I had a long time to think about that, while we sat on Level 6 of the parking garage for a half hour waiting for Levels 1 to 5 to empty.
The next morning, after we all had had some sleep, I told my daughter that she should marry someone who lets her be who she is, but that she cannot do that until she herself knows who she is. And that does imply being a little bit patient.
I do not know what my daughter got out of "Fiddler." She told me, "I like the old guy best," which is something, at least. Would that on her wedding day, she would say something similar about me.
Sweet story, DF... I always hope above hope that my step-daughter will come to a similar conclusion...
Posted by: kelp30 | March 22, 2009 at 10:07 PM
Here's hoping, Kelly!
Posted by: DF | March 25, 2009 at 06:20 PM
Talk about it!!!! I'm actually pretty sure she'll come to some reasonable conclusion... The other night, I was a little bit (honest - just a little) tipsy - just enough to become ever-so-slightly-cortically-uninhibited... and told her she'll be fine - and that having a job she doesn't like will only HELP her try to figure out what she wants to do...
I should probably drink more, come to think of it.
Posted by: kellincatty | March 30, 2009 at 03:33 PM
Since with a teenager you're working in heroic territory, a little liquid courage might be in order. Dionysus approves.
Posted by: DF | March 31, 2009 at 01:29 PM