“If I were a rich man…” I’m gonna be singing that for days. I just got back from seeing Topol – honest-to-God Topol! – in the new Sydney production of Fiddler on the Roof. My boss Albert scored some comps and called me up this morning to say they had an extra. How sweet is that? We had excellent seats, right in the center, and I have to say I was pretty impressed with the Capitol Theater. It was very Italian, all marble and niches with faux Classical sculptures. I liked the twinkly star ceiling too. The show itself was excellent. I still cannot get past the fact that it was freakin’ TOPOL up there on stage. You know when he starred in the film version? 1971. THIRTY-FOUR YEARS AGO. And now he’s 70! He’s a little trimmer than before but I was just in awe of the energy and vitality he brought to the stage. I would’ve been panting after three hours of exuberant dancing but he just seemed to feed off every bit of applause (and we gave him plenty). It’s undoubtedly a star vehicle but it’s still well worth seeing. Amongst the other actors I particularly liked Hodel, Perchik, Golde, and the crazy woman playing Fruma Sarah. (“Tevye’s Dream” was awesomely psychedelic for such a sparse production design.) I was actually in Fiddler about ten years ago – man, I feel like Topol! – in a community production. This was my first opportunity to watch the show from the seats and, for the most part, I was just reacting to Topol and appreciating the show from a technical standpoint. Sometime in the second act, though, it started to get to me. During “Far From the Home I Love,” a song I always found boring in our production, I started to well up with tears. There’s just something about following the man you love somewhere far away from your family…

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