Spinning Tree’s Fiddler on the Roof travels well through time

Fiddler on the Roof turned 50 last year, but the musical doesn’t show its age. Despite being steeped in traditions and, for most of us, an old and far-removed way of life, the story is so fundamentally human that it remains vibrant and contemporary. Its world isn’t so distant, in some ways, from our own.

Spinning Tree Theatre’s Michael Grayman and Andy Parkhurst have grabbed hold of the story’s essence and created a thoughtful, funny and moving production in the intimate Just Off Broadway Theatre.

Tevye (Gary Neal Johnson), a poor milkman in 1905 imperial Russia, is our first glimpse into the village of Anatevka and its Jewish community. “Every one of us is a fiddler on the roof, trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn’t easy,” he says. “And how do we keep our balance? … tradition.”

“Tradition” may be one of the show’s main components — and the name of its lively first ensemble number — but it doesn’t get a final say. Coming up against a society in the throes of prerevolution, Anatevka finds itself permeable to the outside world. “May God bless and keep the czar … far away from us,” the rabbi (Trevor Belt) entreats — but not so much.

Based on stories of Sholem Aleichem, Fiddler on the Roof took nine Tony Awards in 1965, and the ’71 film received a Best Picture Oscar nomination. Though the story takes place 100 years ago (period costumes by Kate Mott), its modern sensibility connects us to characters we recognize: men, women and children who find themselves in situations that still feel current. History repeats that way, but the musical’s creators — book by Joseph Stein, music by Jerry Bock, and lyrics by Sheldon Harnick — haven’t used a heavy hand. Quite the contrary.

We become well-acquainted and involved with the folks of Anatevka, most of all Tevye. He’s the center of this story, and Johnson is note-perfect, with a multilayered portrayal that’s sensitive, heartfelt and humorous. (His “If I Were a Rich Man” exudes a low-key authenticity.) We’re wholly engaged by this father of five daughters who cleverly and resourcefully maneuvers his everyday relationships with his wife, his children, his neighbors — even his God, with whom he feels personally connected. “Sometimes I think, when it gets too quiet up there, You say to Yourself, ‘What kind of mischief can I play on My friend Tevye?'” he says.

Julie Shaw inhabits Tevye’s wife, Golde, with the right mixture of aloofness and wifely meddling as a woman who knows her place but can still yield power. Their “Do You Love Me?” touchingly hits at the essence of their 25-year marriage. Their three oldest daughters (Kami Rodgers, Sara Belhouari and Megan Herrera) bring distinct voices to roles that not only represent society’s constraints — shown in their “Matchmaker”: Playing with matches, a girl can get burned — but also the changes encircling the family. (In a second supporting role, Rodgers also comically portrays her dead Grandma Tzeitel in a hilarious nightmare sequence, “The Dream,” in Act 1.)

A large cast has been assembled, more performances than can be noted in this space. But a few highlights: Bob Wearing wears fear and uncertainty like well-fitting clothes, eliciting sympathy for his weak-kneed tailor Motel, who courts eldest daughter Tzeitel. We feel his joy in his celebratory “Miracle of Miracles.” T.J. Lancaster brings a strong presence as Lazar Wolf, a well-to-do butcher competing — and bargaining — as well for Tzeitel’s hand. Also good is Mead D’Amore as Perchik, a student from Kiev with revolution on his mind. And in a small role, Matthew A. King lends his charisma and powerful singing voice to the Russian soldier Sasha.

The exceptional musicians play an integral part in this production and are woven into scenes as members of the community: Fiddler Jonathan Lloyd Schriock, music director Angie Benson on piano and accordion, Joe Levens on guitar and mandolin, and James Westbrook on clarinet. This fusion makes for smooth segues and for especially fluid storytelling.

Grayman and Parkhurst have made efficient use of the performance space, augmenting a simple set (design by Matt Mott) with staging that gives it texture and depth. This is noticeable in the ensemble numbers, familiar songs freshly rendered: a boisterous “To Life,” with its Russian-style dancing; a moving “Sabbath Prayer”; a genuine, sweet “Sunrise, Sunset” that skirts sentimentality; a hallucinatory “The Dream” (aided by Shane Rowse’s effective lighting design). And in “The Wedding,” the audience holds its collective breath as dancers balance bottles on their heads.

Life in Anatevka is more balancing act than song and dance, with forces outside this community’s control working to crash the party, as they historically tend to do. And these villagers, like ghosts from the past, leave us with a wistful yet haunting “Anatevka,” a town and its people brought briefly back to life.