My, what big ambitions "Into the Woods" has

There she is, in the 5th Avenue Theatre's rousing new production of "Into the Woods." That kid in her adorable crimson cape, basket of goodies in hand, skipping through the forest to Granny's house.

Once upon a time, Little Red Riding Hood's adventure was just vintage children's entertainment — with a pinch of instruction about avoiding fanged, furry creatures while out for a stroll.

In the modern age, however, fables get appropriated for other uses.

To pioneer psychoanalysts Sigmund Freud and C.J. Jung, fairy-tale characters were timeless archetypes and therapeutic tools for understanding one's psyche.

Contemporary literary scholars like Jack Zipes and Marina Warner are more interested in finding reflections of European sociopolitical history in the enduring yarns.

And what camp does "Into the Woods," the Pulitzer Prize-honored 1988 show by Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine, fall into?

A category of its own, in which a Joseph Campbell-style, Jungian quest merges with a Broadway-tooled musical comedy.

Conflating the iconic folktales of Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk and others into one many-tentacled narrative, composer-lyricist Sondheim and author Lapine concoct much merriment. That's captured in this colorful, smartly performed production loaded with Seattle talent. It is sometimes sluggishly but always attractively staged by Mark Waldrop, on a set that circles the orchestra and extends into the audience.

It boasts affectionate mockery of two vain, self-dramatizing Prince Charmings, agreeably portrayed and sung (their duet "Agony" is a joy) by Michael Hunsaker and Logan Benedict.

It's got smart-mouthed wisecracking by that Red Riding Hood girl, cunningly played by the very gifted scene-swiping fifth-grader Ireland Woods. And there's more mirth from a gnarled, cranky witch (snappy Lisa Estridge), plotting to reclaim her youth and beauty; a dufus, giant-killing kid, Jack (Eric Ankrim); and Jack's "milky white" cow (Eric Brotherson, a whiz in a cow suit).

But psychological ambivalence — and a deep, contemporary distrust of happy-ever-aftering — courses through this compelling and unique, if somewhat bloated, work.

Her bell-like soprano voice ringing through her big solo "On the Steps of the Palace," Billie Wildrick's runaway bride Cinderella isn't exactly thrilled about becoming a princess.

Conflicted too are a childless baker and his wife (admirably dispatched, respectively, by Bob De Dea and Leslie Law). They bicker over whether the ends justify the means, while trying to lift the curse of infertility by deceiving and thieving their way to parenthood.

Despite an Act One finale titled "Ever After" that announces neat, happy resolutions to the multiple story lines, Sondheim and Lapine certainly can't leave well enough alone. So in a more rambling Act Two, the storybook gets darker and bloodier — at least by Broadway musical standards, if not by the bloody standards of the Brothers Grimm.

People thinking of bringing young kids should note: Homes are destroyed, adultery is committed and likable characters get killed off by an understandably angry giantess.

The show then gropes and fumbles for an honorable, honest way to end on an up note — which it finds in a beautiful, if not entirely justified Sondheim ode, "No One is Alone."

If the dramaturgy of "Into the Woods" gets rather contorted, the music is luscious and the lyrics tongue-trippingly clever. Under the baton of musical director Ian Eisendrath, Sondheim's lush orchestral score is well-served. And last, but certainly not least, the circulating, fantasy woodland set by Todd Edward Ivins, lit by Tom Sturge, works magic too.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com