Woody’s [rating: 4.5]

Fiona is one princess Disney’s tiara empire let get away.

But Shrek, a lovable ogre, didn’t.

So all ends well in “Shrek The Musical,” an enchanting two-hour-plus amusement that bends and flips stock fantasy characters to come up with a key moral for kids and adults: Everything can be better when you accept people as they are.

Even if they’re different. Green-skinned, for instance.

Or ugly.

It’s a message underscored by the presence of a huge cast that’s multi-ethnic and multi-aged.

Shrek himself is a fleeting pariah — extracted from several worlds of imagination. He was a 1990 brainchild of William Steig in a book, which in turn spawned a 2001 DreamWorks film, which in turn birthed the Broadway musical that ran from late 2008 until a year later.

Now the main character (brimming with Scottish brogue) is onstage locally, colorfully supported by professionals and youngsters, at the Julia Morgan Theater/Berkeley Playhouse.

It’s highly entertaining.

Often silly.

Fun.

I went because I thought my seven-year-old granddaughter would enjoy it. She did.

She giggled frequently.

But her vintage grandpa chuckled a lot, too, willing not only to suspend disbelief but happy to be swallowed by the fractured fairy tale motif.

Many of the oldtimers in the audience cackled louder than most kids. One little boy across the aisle from us never stopped squealing with delight, however.

There’s certainly enough slapstick to fill any two comedies. And enough synchronized movement onstage to get everyone’s attention (particularly in the sizzling production number, “Morning Person,” choreographed by director Matthew McCoy with an homage to Bob Fosse, and the upbeat closer, “I’m a Believer”).

I witnessed no fidgeting.

And while some melodies tended to be forgettable (despite the musical direction by Rachel Robinson being spot on), the lyrics by David Lindsay-Abaire usually moved the plotline forward — and were generally clever (“I’ve got your back when it gets scary; I’ll shave it when it gets hairy.”)

Except for turning the definition of beauty on its head, the tale is standard-issue kiddie fare.

Shrek’s swamp is invaded by storybook critters who’ve been exiled by the play’s comic villain, Lord Farquaad (Clay David in a show-stealing, short-puppet-legged performance that reminded me of Martin Short and Jerry Lewis at their best).

To regain his solitude, Shrek must rescue the princess from a dragon so the vertically challenged Farquaad can marry her and become king.

What happens?

Well, even though this is a mirror image of a fairy tale love story, we know upfront that our hero and heroine will get together and live happily ever after, right?

Although the younger cast members acquit themselves marvelously, it’s the leads who earn major respect (Tony Panighetti as Shrek, Brian Dauglash as a garrulous Donkey and Chloe Condon as Fiona).

But I must predict an extraordinary theatrical future for Emma Curtin, who provides an astonishing voice and stage presence as Fiona at age 7.

Characters that create excitement and glee by strutting around in recognizable Halloween-worthy costumes by Wendy Ross Kaufman include the Big Bad Wolf, the Pied Piper, the Wicked Witch, Pinocchio, Peter Pan, the Fairy Godmother, the Mad Hatter, the Sugar Plum Fairy and Humpty Dumpty.

What else is worth mentioning?

Well, my granddaughter was particularly awed when Shrek and Donkey pranced up and down the center aisle. But she laughed loudest at a burp-and-fart contest that could be compared favorably to Mel Brooks’ ground- and wind-breaking “Blazing Saddles.”

Some lines sailed over her head — local geographical and topical references such as Walnut Creek and the wedding of Kim Kardashian and Kanya West.

But that mattered not.

The show, partnered at the Berkeley Playhouse with Kidpower, a 25-year-old international nonprofit that highlights ways to stay safe from bullying, abuse and violence, delivers the best adult-child performance in these parts in a long time.

By far.

Or maybe I should say by Farquaad.

“Shrek — The Musical” will play at the Julia Morgan Theater, 2640 College Ave., Berkeley, through Aug. 3. Evening performances, 7 p.m. selected Wednesdays and Thursdays, 6 p.m. Saturdays, 5 p.m. Sundays; matinees, 1 p.m. Saturdays, noon on Sundays. Tickets: $17 to $60. Information: berkeleyplayhouse.org or (510) 845-8542, ext. 351.

 

My wife abhorred having to suffer through breast cancer.

I wasn’t thrilled either.

But the idea of her losing her lengthy tresses didn’t bother me, possibly because hair didn’t register on my Meaning of Life scale.

Possibly because I have the male Y chromosome.

I knew I’d love her — and still find her beautiful — even if chemotherapy destroyed every follicle, even if I stumbled over reddish clumps in our San Anselmo home.

For Nancy, though, hair loss filled the No. 2 slot on her hate parade.

As soon as the docs said baldness would follow her chemo cocktails, she freaked. And she never did get comfy with the identity crisis it spawned, “the most psychologically devastating part of the cancer.”

That was 19 years ago.

Today she’d have more options to relieve her distress.

Some free.

Such as cutting and styling from Hairdressers with Heart, a nonprofit founded 18 months ago by Nicole Hitchcock and Nina Husen, co-owners of NH2 salon in Novato, after they saw close-up what treatment-induced hair loss could mean.

What they’d watched was the anguish Brandy Hitchcock, Nicole’s sister, had endured when her hair fell out.

Before leukemia killed her in 2009.

Nina and Nicole, armed with scissors, hair products and truckloads of compassion, now celebrate Brandy’s life by signing up Style Heroes, stylists who donate time to aid cancer patients.

They offer pre-chemo haircutting and head shaving, wig fitting and customizing, and 12 monthly post-chemo cuts.

Free hairpieces are provided financially disadvantaged patients.

The program’s stylists work hard at ensuring their pro bono clients no longer feel powerless. And its website at www.hairdresserswithheart.org  — while noting “over a million people will be diagnosed with cancer this year in the United States” — says clients can transform the way they feel by transforming the way they look.

I remember wishing for a magic wand to do that to Nancy.

None ever appeared.

But what HWH accomplishes best is give “a person something positive to focus on,” declares Nina in a YouTube video.

So far, Style Heroes have worked on 22 women.

Bridgene Raftery, a Sonoma recipient diagnosed in August who’s still being treated for breast cancer, is one of them.

While her pre-chemo hair was being trimmed, she decided “to have fun by trying different colors — lavender, a little bit of pink.”

She’s now thrilled with her hair’s reappearance, despite it “coming back in different sections, fluffy bits, straggly.”

The image jerks me into a time warp.

Nancy’s hair had returned thick and course, multi-colored and strangely different than its former soft texture. The curls had vanished. She couldn’t wait to tint it back to her original color.

But she almost felt like herself.

Nicole, who’s been a stylist since she was a teenager 21 years ago, feels especially connected to Brandi McWade, a recipient whose name is only one letter removed from her sister’s.

Brandi recalls that they developed “a beautiful friendship” as Nicole trimmed her pre-chemo locks.

When it came time to shave her head, Brandi employed a San Diego outfit to “make a hair ‘halo,’ which is what I wore with a hat instead of a wig because it was my own hair.”

The Fairfax recipient, whose breast cancer has since metastasized to her bones, has retained a positive attitude.

Nicole’s attitude is one of appreciation — because the program is expanding, boosted by an influx of donations.

A May fundraiser picked up $24,646 (money that will be used to help the organization go national).

Meanwhile, at MC23 salon in Ross, three stylists and an assistant have become involved in the HWH program, according to sales manager J.J. Kwan.

“It’s almost like a spiritual journey,” she says, “and helps us give back to the community.”

At Sproos Salon in San Anselmo, Angele Perez is an independent stylist who’s “known Nicole from high school and was totally inspired by what Hairdressers with Heart is doing. It’s an emotional, tough time for cancer patients, but we can help coach them through it.”

Bridgene calls the program “absolutely brilliant — because losing your hair is so traumatic.”

And she, as does virtually every woman who’s discovered Hairdressers with Heart, endorse its rallying cry: “You are not alone.”

Nancy certainly was glad I stayed by her side during her nightmare.

But I bet she’d have preferred that I could wield a comb and scissors.

Woody’s [rating: 2.5]

Edgy, electrifying, out-of-the-box mini-plays.

That’s what I’ve eternally hoped to discover at fringe festivals.

Typically, I’ve been disappointed.

I was surprised, therefore, to find a five-playlet Fringe of Marin program mostly satisfying in spite of it leaning heavily on conventional theatrical forms.

Its playwriting, acting and directing generally were a notch better than I’d expect on any campus.

The festival is over now, but you might seriously consider going to the next one.

My favorite piece in Program One at Dominican University was “Andrew Primo,” a lighthearted look at relationships in a phantasmagoric world populated by speed-dating devotees, androids and horny women.

Writer-director Gaetana Caldwell-Smith cleverly utilized her 20-20 satirical eyes to amuse me.

Thoroughly.

And that was sandwiched by two noteworthy shorts — “Fourteen” and “Fighting for Survival” — well-crafted by a lone playwright, Inbal Kashtan, and well-staged and well-paced by a single director, Jon Tracy.

“Fourteen” was a serious look at a self-starving, self-imprisoned teenage girl plagued by the absence of her mother and hospitalization of her cancer-ridden dad.

Stefanée Martin, a young actor with exceptional promise, used nearly every muscle in her face and body to depict her torment as Annie, a girl who makes prank phone calls and convulsively whips off one T-shirt after another to the click-clack beat of time passing.

“Survival” spotlighted the first-rate acting of Sarah Mitchell as a dying lesbian, Maya, and the comic exuberance of Lucas Hatton as Brent, a wilderness census-taker.

And it deftly shifted tone from slapstick to solemnity.

Gina Pandiani, managing artistic director, confided that “what Fringe of Marin’s all about for me is developing young talent.”

She’s already taken giant steps toward meeting that goal, quite a feat considering she’s been at the helm only since shortly after the 2013 death of 88-year-old company founder Annette Lust.

Moreover, she’s been flourishing without needing to embrace wild experiments.

This marks the festival’s 18th year (although, because there are annual spring and fall versions, it’s also its “33rd season”).

Opening night, I was quickly able to determine that the double-program festival provided lots to praise — even when the slightly uneven hour and half of vignettes (that ranged from under 15 minutes to about 35) didn’t quite jell.

And I was a virgin attendee.

Regulars, I suspect, became regulars because of Fringe of Marin’s quality.

Case in point: “Little Moscow,” the last show in Program One (and the sole reprise for the five-play second), which consisted of a long soliloquy about anti-Semitism and a man tattooed as a traitor because he dared criticize Russian life.

It could have been terrific if only…

• The rich, accented voice of Rick Roitinger — who squeezed every possible emotion from the Aleks Merilo-penned play as a reminiscing tailor — hadn’t sometimes gotten lost in the cavernous Angelico Concert Hall in which no microphones were evident.

• The actor’s voice hadn’t also been overwhelmed by recorded background music (that nevertheless helped the piece’s moodiness with — in rapid succession — melancholic, dramatic and sentimental strains).

• The poetic, sensitively written piece in which Roitlinger starred didn’t feel longer than a Russian winter.

“Pre-Occupy Hollywood,” an amateurish glimpse of Tinseltown as background film actors view it, forcing them momentarily to contemplate a revolution, was the weakest link in the evening.

And it was tolerable.

Opening night drew only 40 appreciative, supportive theatergoers, and that’s a shame because Fringe of Marin clearly merits vastly bigger crowds.