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"Meester Amerika" is a love letter straight to the source of American entertainment: the Yiddish theater of Second Avenue.

If it hadn't been for a group of immigrants trying to make a living making New Yorkers laugh, American audiences would experience none of the following entertainment devices today, live or on film: physical comedy, situational comedy, parody, satire, and mistaken identity. There are two types of musical numbers in Meester Amerika: original numbers by composer Artie Bressler; and traditional Yiddish songs with new English lyrics (expertly worked in by lyricist Michael Colby) that are readily accessible to Meester Amerika's audience and plot.

Bressler has produced a seamless soundtrack that embodies the flavors of both uptown and downtown New York in the 1920s: Yiddishkeit, jazz, and ragtime. Colby is a master of Sondheim-esque internal rhyme, as in one example, from "You Belong Onstage": "So you run the show/Teach your son the show/It's your whole life/But you've no life/Once you've done the show."

As the lights go down, a black curtain borders the worlds between proscenium and audience. Suddenly a lone clarinet breaks into "Rozhinkes mit Mandlen" and before you know it, you're treated to an old-fashioned overture just like in the old days of musical theater -- the better to get acquainted with the melodies you will hear over the course of the evening. The next sound we hear is the a capella tenor of Joey Rose; played with empathetic appeal by David B. Perlman, in a prayer, "Mi Chamocha" (Exodus 15:11); a song of freedom to reflect the singer's desire to burst his chains.

Joey Rose grew up in Yiddish theater. He has reached the sweetness of his prime and could have all of theatrical New York at his feet. Joey, however, has a bombshell for his actor-troupe family: he wants to become a cantor. This news, no better received than Al Jolson's in The Jazz Singer, kicks off a chain of events that librettist Jennifer Berman has expertly braided into a macramé challah of an exciting, participatory ride for the audience. But you'll have to experience this wonderful musical for yourself in order to find out the resolution. Meanwhile, please meet the core of Joey's family troupe: his father Marcus Rose, emcee and paterfamilias; and Marcus' siblings Yetta, the wise mature female lead; and Benjamin, the comic relief and simpatico sidekick; and Luba Levy, the character ingénue.

Meester Amerika is a show within a show, and from his first moment onstage Jeff Keller waxes charismatic as Marcus both physically and vocally. Keller's presence pops with appeal as he welcomes the audience within an audience. By contrast, upon absorbing Joey's news, we catch Marcus in a tender vignette as he sings a heartbreaking English version of the lullaby "Rozhinkes mit Mandlen" that evokes parental heartbreak.

Amy London brings warmth, strength, and adept physical comedy to Yetta. London shines as a triple-threat in her opening tango number, but positively stops the show with raw love and emotion in her ballad, "A Little Love (in Big Manhattan)." Steve Sterner plays Benjamin with impeccable comic timing and a delicious tragi-comedy in his solo number, "It Shouldn't Happen to a Dog." As a team, London and Sterner function as both sympathetic Greek chorus and idea factory in navigating the plot's twists and turns. They also respectively assume the standard Yiddish theater devices of "character within character": men playing women and women playing men. And you can't help rooting for Jerry Lazar, the sweet lug of a stage manager who loves Yetta.

Boy meets girl, and the secular Joey meets the pious Simma, who supports his decision to become a cantor. Make no mistake -- she is no wimp. Melissa Schoenberger's portrayal of Simma delivers tender musicality during her duets with Joey (as in "Nothing Compares to This," one of lyricist Michael Colby's clever anglicizations to "Sheyn vi di Lavone"). But Simma is no shrinking violet. She shines sweetly in song, but proves as tartly candid as young Barbra Streisand's Yetta Mermelstein in I Can Get it for You Wholesale in dialogue and in plot development. Here again, Schoenberg serves up an ace. Clifton Lewis as the Rabbi and Rachel Kurland (the only member of this nearly all-Jewish company who grew up in a Yiddish-speaking household) as the Rebbetzin confer gentle comedy on old-world tradition.

Shloyme, the rabbinical student betrothed to Simma, has long yearned to act on stage. Ben Rauch employs impeccable timing and wide-eyed comedy to convey the perfect balance between Shloyme's strengths and his desires. In an English take on the traditional, "Un Az Der Rebbe Zingt," Rauch expertly delivers a passage of hazzanut that spirals into scat riffs -- which personifies the perfect metaphor of the relationship between Jewish music and musical theater.

In the originally composed song "The Language of Luba," Rauch does it again, spanning Shloyme's dilemma through vocal contrast, and a deft touch of agita. Malorie Charak is physically perfect as the lithesome, kewpie-like Luba and sparkles in her dance and comedy features.

Dextrous choreographer Marilyn Woodhull Cervino makes it impossible to distinguish the dancers from the non-dancers. The ensemble under Vicki Casella's remarkable musical direction makes it impossible to believe that it's only a trio. Director Michael Bias brilliantly crafts this entire bountiful bouquet into an evening of genius that makes the observer glad to be alive.