STAGE REVIEW : ‘Days’: Warm Valentine to Life in Shtetl

So maybe you expected a gritty documentary from a show called “Those Were the Days”?

No way. The Yiddish-English revue at the Westwood Playhouse is a warm, mushy valentine to life in the shtetl and to the brand of humor and sentiment that immigrated from the shtetl to America.

It’s even softer-edged than “On Second Avenue,” a bigger and splashier revue from the same creators, Zalmen Mlotek and Moishe Rosenfeld, which played the Wilshire Ebell in 1988. The earlier show included a few scenes from Yiddish melodramas and one from a political satire. This one sticks almost exclusively to songs like “My Yiddishe Mama” and light vaudeville routines.

At least that’s how it seemed to this non-Yiddish speaker. Then again, those of us who know only a few words and phrases in Yiddish may have missed something. Understanding Yiddish is more important here than it was in “On Second Avenue”--not only because entire numbers pass by without any sort of translation, but also because the printed program for “Those Were the Days” is much less detailed and informative than was the “Second Avenue” program.

The general outline of “Those Were the Days” is clear enough. After the modern-dress introduction of the five-member cast, we go back to the shtetl. A typical scene from the first act: two young women, who meet while delivering Purim goodies to each other’s employers, start sharing each other’s pastries--until nothing is left. A typical first act rhyme: kvels / smells. A typical first-act curse: “She should live like a chandelier--hang by day and burn by night.”

Pogroms? Forget it. A number about a soldier is utterly benign. At the end of the first act, the villagers encounter their first train, which is the only indication that the rural isolation of their culture may end soon.

The second act is more American, jazzier. Even though the subject may be the foolish (European) village of Chelm, the jokes flow faster, catching the rhythms of the New World. Bruce Adler’s novelty number about his intimate friendship with the Czar--and the Czarina--plays like something Danny Kaye would have done (or did?).

We know we’re definitely out of the shtetl when Mina Bern delivers a Jewish-mother routine, in which she relates how she’s shuttled back and forth among the homes of her three affluent children. One of them spares her the ordeal of taking the elevator to his apartment by letting her sleep in his Cadillac, downstairs in the garage. Such an honor.

The veteran trouper Bern’s singing voice wavers slightly, but her comic timing is unerring. Playing the older men’s roles is baritone Norman Atkins, rich of voice and rotund of figure.

Director and choreographer Eleanor Reissa is one of the two younger women in the cast; the other is Lori Wilner, best known here for her luminous “Hannah Senesh” of several years back. Both are pros.

But it’s Bruce Adler who gets the most showstoppers. The one actor who was also in “On Second Avenue,” Adler is a high-octane comic with the sort of skills that would have been eaten up by Hollywood, 50 years ago.

Co-creator Mlotek conducts a little klezmer pit band, the Golden Land Orchestra, with authority. The only musical selection that doesn’t sound quite right is Gene Raskin’s title number, in which the lyrics transform a shtetl- like melody into a nostalgic drinking song (which was popularized by British singer Mary Hopkin). Did the Jewish immigrants really hang out in taverns?

The stage is bare, in extreme contrast to the scenic design of “On Second Avenue,” but Tom Sturge’s lighting design adds color and atmosphere. Gail Cooper-Hecht’s costumes range from basic peasant clothes to a sexy black evening dress, worn by Wilner in a second-act solo.

Please note that this production remembers Shabbes and keeps it holy: no performances on Friday evening or Saturday afternoon.

At 10886 Le Conte Ave., Tuesdays through Thursdays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., Wednesday and Thursday matinees at 2 p.m., Sundays at 3 p.m. and 7:30 p.m., through March 4. Tickets: $18-$28; (213) 410-1062 or 208-5454; (714) 634-1300.