New Line Theatre, a company that regularly turns its shoestring budget into vivid ribbons of musical theater art, is probably best known for offbeat, counter-cultural work. Shows like "Bat Boy," "Love Kills" and "Return to the Forbidden Planet" seem to define the distinctive New Line brand, partly because they suit artistic director Scott Miller's sensibilities and partly because New Line is the only place in town you're apt to see them.

But there's another important thread that runs through New Line's history: stripped-down performances of big-name musicals. In seasons past, New Line has produced shows like "Camelot," "Man of La Mancha" and "Cabaret" - shows that we associate with lush productions at the Muny, the Fox or Stages St. Louis. "Evita," the latest New Line production, belongs to this adventurous tradition.

As you might predict, Miller doesn't try to present the Andrew Lloyd Webber/Tim Rice show in the lavish style to which we are accustomed. The cast and the orchestra are small, the set minimal, the wigs and costumes a little bit declassé.

From the opening scene in an Argentine movie theater, where shabby patrons collapse in tears and prayers at the news of their first lady's death, we are confronted with the impoverished world that made Evita's rise possible.

That was the world that she came from herself. Although Taylor Pietz, as Eva Peron, dons fur stoles and gobs of jewelry, Miller frames her her against drab backgrounds or plunges her into the grubby, adoring crowd. The contrast heightens her sparkle while it pins her, like a glittering butterfly, to an inescapable socio-economic web.

Pietz gives a sensational performance, by turns canny and elegant. With the support of Chris Petersen's six-man band, she delivers a sterling rendition of "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina," one of Lloyd Webber's best songs.

Pietz and Todd Schaefer, who plays strongman Juan Peron, make a persuasive team, particularly in the sultry duet "I'd Be Surprisingly Good For You." As Che Guevara - Argentine native, Marxist revolutionary, and, in "Evita," our cynical narrator - John Sparger is a little less of a singer than we might hope for. But his rock-and-roll style gives Che, and the show, a sharp, welcome edge.

Miller, who directed the production, makes one misstep. The sides of the stage are hung with posters of more familiar political figures: Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin, George W. Bush and Glenn Beck. It's too much. Miller's tough, deglamorized treatment of "Evita" shrewdly lays bare a cult of personality. That's plenty; why try to force it to a conclusion?