Faith, Family, and the Fragile Dance: Landmark's "Fiddler on the Roof" Finds the Heart Beneath Tradition v.3

Full disclosure: I work this show, so I may be biased towards it

Landmark Community Theatre's Fiddler on the Roof, directed by Dr. Lucia Dressel, is a production that feels both timeless and freshly urgent - a show that understands Fiddler not as a museum piece, but as a living story about resilience, laughter, and the cost of change. It offers a stirring balance of reverence and vitality in a production that displays the musical's emotional weight without losing the humor and heartbeat that make it timeless. It honors the weight of its traditions even as it dances joyfully beneath them, finding new power in a tale the world already knows by heart. From its opening chorus of "Tradition" to its final, aching silence, this staging demonstrates that even a well-worn classic can feel newly urgent when handled with sincerity, precision, and soul.

At the center of it all is Chuck Stango's Tevye, a performance of incredible depth that surprises as much as it satisfies. Perhaps best known for his comedic work, Stango wields humor with a craftsman's precision - but what lingers is the emotional depth beneath it. His Tevye speaks to God with a twinkle in his eye and a tremor in his heart, finding the sacred and the ridiculous in equal measure and his easy rapport with the audience grounds the production in warmth. Yet when the story turns somber, Stango's gravitas emerges with startling power. His delivery of "Chavaleh" is nothing short of devastating, his voice and physical stillness embodying heartbreak with a restraint that commands silence. The laughter he draws makes the pain of those later scenes land all the harder. In those moments, his voice breaks not for effect, but from the weight of a father's impossible choice, and the audience holds its breath with him.

Opposite him, Sybil Chamberlain's Golde is an ideal counterpart, radiating warmth, wit, and a maternal strength that lends a particular grounded realism to her performance. She and Stango share a lived-in chemistry that feels authentic - argumentative, affectionate, and rooted in shared history. Together they ground the production in something unmistakably human.

Among the daughters, each brings a distinct light. Grace Mackie's Tzeitel, a newcomer to Landmark's stage, wows with a powerhouse voice and a genuine emotional range. Brianna Ortiz's Hodel carries her songs with practiced grace, her "Far From the Home I Love" tender and unforced. And Katherine Griffin's Chava is extraordinary - a dancer of poise and emotion whose performance in "Chavaleh", alongside Benjamin Fleury's Fyedka, is both haunting and transcendent. Griffin's quiet strength, paired with her unexpected vocal warmth, marks her as a performer to watch.

Visually, the production embraces a rustic minimalism that serves the story well. Wooden silhouettes of houses line the stage, their slatted walls glowing with shifting light that suggests dawn, dusk, and passing seasons. A star curtain gleams faintly behind a soft backdrop, and a row of birch trees frames the on-stage orchestra which, along with subtle gobo projections, creates a subtle illusion of depth and atmosphere without clutter. The effect is painterly - a suggestion of Anatevka rather than a literal village, a world half-remembered through the haze of nostalgia, while rolling flats and doorframes fluidly transform the stage from tavern to tailor shop to family home. The 29-member cast fills this world with convincing life - the sense of a bustling village always present, even in quieter moments.

That orchestra, conducted by John Dressel, gives the performance its heartbeat. It's a full ensemble and delivers a vibrant, full-bodied score that underscores the show's sweeping emotion without overwhelming the performers - live, visible, and beautifully balanced thanks to Michael "Gonzo" Gonsalves's clear and careful sound design. Even against the 10 piece orchestra, every lyric cuts through cleanly. The music never overwhelms; it uplifts, and it breathes.

Matt Delong's lighting design complements that restraint with thoughtful flashes of spectacle. For most of the show, the light is gentle, natural, unobtrusive - and then, when it matters most, it becomes extraordinary. Nowhere is that more evident than in "Tevye's Dream." As the number erupts into chaos, Amanda Benecchi's Fruma-Sarah appears perched atop a twelve-foot wedding dress, her towering form illuminated in eerie reds and blues while the masked ensemble swirls around her. The effect is altogether otherworldly - a perfect visual metaphor for Tevye's panic and imagination colliding.

Costume designer Michelle Eifes and props master Tabitha Langer contribute richly to the visual storytelling, their work unified and textural, while set designers Chris Guertin, Chris Ryan, and Ian Jones craft a world that feels practical yet poetic. Credit also goes to the many scenic painters - including Chrissy Flynn, Aspen Hogrefe, and Katherine Griffin - whose brushwork brings warmth to the wooden facades.

Through it all, Lucia Dressel's directorial hand is confident but never heavy. She understands that Fiddler on the Roof is, at its core, about contrasts - joy and sorrow, faith and doubt, old ways and new beginnings. Her program notes frame the production as one of resilience, joy, and unshakable faith in the face of adversity, referencing "themes of tradition, displacement, and belonging" that echo contemporary conversations on immigration and identity. These themes resonate quietly but unmistakably, woven into the emotional fabric rather than imposed upon it - present but never didactic. They hum beneath the story like a second melody, always felt but never forced. Dressel's direction maintains the equilibrium between comedy and tragedy, ensuring that Tevye's humor heightens, rather than undercuts, the show's devastating turns.

And the audience feels it, too. From the raucous celebration of "L'Chaim (To Life)" to the hushed heartbreak of the final farewell, the crowd was fully alive - stomping along, laughing freely, and rising to its feet in a standing ovation that felt more like gratitude than applause.

By curtain call, I found myself thinking less about the tragedy of Anatevka and more about its endurance. Fiddler on the Roof has always been about holding on to what matters even as the world changes around you - and this production makes that truth feel immediate again.

Landmark's Fiddler is not just well-performed; it is well-loved. Every note, every brushstroke, every whispered prayer on that stage carries the unmistakable weight of care, capturing what makes this story endure: resilience, faith, and the fragile humor that binds them. It reminds us that tradition, like theater itself, survives not because it resists change, but because it adapts - finding new breath each time the curtain rises. It is a production of heart and craftsmanship - one that reminds us that even as Tevye's world fractures, his spirit, and ours, still find reason to dance.

Playing at Landmark Community Theatre through 10/19/2025. Tickets can be purchased on the theater's website