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The American musical has long provided an important vehicle through which writers, performers, and audiences reimagine who they are and how they might best interact with the world around them. Musicals are especially good at this because they provide not only an opportunity for us to enact dramatic versions of alternative identities, but also the material for performing such alternatives in the real world, through songs and the characters and attitudes those songs project.

Not only do most productions -- including the seasonal attraction at Light Opera Works -- feature a swath of white folks playing \"injuns,\" in the parlance of the show, but most of the comedy is derived from squaws being currency, or from the outlandish notion that Chief Sitting Bull, whose role is penned in broken English, actually knows what he is talking about.

Frank Butler, played by Rob Lawhon, steps onto the stage, singing a tempered rendition of \"There's No Business Like Show Business.\" Soon he's joined by the entire company, and before you know it you're traveling the Midwest with Annie Oakley, Buffalo Bill, Charlie Davenport and Butler. See, it's time for me to cash in on my 15 minutes of fame. I've been asked to do a \"walk-on role\" in a performance of \"Annie Get Your Gun.\" Anthony Rodriquez, the producing artistic director who plays Buffalo Bill, will have me do something --- at some point, somewhere, somehow --- during the show. Maybe I'll say a line. Maybe I'll sing, a la \"High School Musical.\" Preferably, I'll just stand there, in full Western regalia, cowboy cool.

You know you're in for some bodacious entertainment the second Frank Butler (Rob Lawhon) steps into the spotlight for the first number: a plaintive, no-frills version of \"There's No Business Like Show Business.\" Lawhon, who captured the soul of Hank Williams in Theatrical Outfit's \"Lonesome Highway\" a couple of years ago, is a top-notch vocalist with a slight twang and lady-killing hangdog looks. Before [Annie Oakley] (Natasha Drena) galumphs into view, and even for a good spell afterward, the coquettish Dolly Tate (Barbara [Barbara Cole Uterhardt]) tries to finagle her way into the saddle with Frank. But by simply \"Doin' What Comes Naturally,\" Annie lassos Frank with her earnest heart, vivacious country personality and competitive edge. What makes their on-again, off-again courtship so sparky is their unwavering thirst to win. Anything she can do, he can do better. And vice versa. Eventually, there's got to be a draw. CAPTION: Aurora Theatre Brace yourself for rollicking entertainment. Natasha Drena plays Annie in Aurora Theatre's staging of the 1946 classic \"Annie Get Your Gun.\" The show opens Aurora's season in its new Lawrenceville home --- with a bang.

The impresario, Buffalo Bill (Joneal Joplin), sees possibilities and hires her for his troupe. She dresses up, learns to read and finds a surrogate father in one of the stars of the show, warmhearted Chief Sitting Bull (Bruce Adler). She also falls for [Frank Butler] at first sight, possibly dazzled by his glittering costume. Unaccountably, Frank falls for her, too. But can love triumph over his ego? In a show like this, it can, because nothing is real -- just showbiz. Sitting Bull and Buffalo Bill have become entertaining versions of their former selves. That's why the broad style favored by Adler and Joplin (who looks perfect for his role) works so well. There are also bright performances from Jennifer Prescott as Frank's assistant, John Freimann as an innkeeper and James Anthony as a rival producer. \"Annie Get Your Gun\" debuted in 1946, but it feels older than that. Three years earlier, \"Oklahoma!\" showed how a love story could gradually evolve (\"People Will Say We're in Love\"). But [Annie Oakley] and Frank seem to fall in love only because that's what happens in musical comedy. The set designer, Michael Anania, decorates the stage with outsize drawings of old Western-style posters; [Liz Larsen] and James need to reach for portrayals on the same scale so that their lack of \"natural\" feelings doesn't stand out.

As Buffalo Grove continues to gain a reputation for producing quality community theater, the program draws actors from greater distances. This summer's cast members hail from not only Buffalo Grove, but also Chicago, Deerfield, Evanston, Highland Park, Niles, Northbrook, McHenry, Vernon Hills and Wheeling.

[Rex Smith]'s work as sharpshooter Frank Butler personifies the phrase \"March of the Wooden Soldiers.\" He hits his clay pigeons much more easily than his notes, producing strangled sounds that get trapped in his tight throat, behind his frozen smile. Smith, who has plenty of stage experience, is seasoned but not especially talented. Crystal Bernard as Annie, on the other hand, is green but darn good.

Gorgeous sunsets are provided by John Lasiter's excellent lighting. [...] Alejo Vietti has furnished dozens of his superlative costume designs, among them Buffalo Bill's fringe-happy Western suit, Frank's embroidered cowboy shirts, Annie's elegant pearl-gray ball gown and plenty of petticoats, bustles and cowboy chaps for the ensemble.

What one could say about the miscast Edward Watts' Frank Butler. If one is going to go with a mature and complex [Annie Oakley], she needs a Butler with a few more wrinkles around the eyes and some wry, intelligent charm. Watts sings well enough, but it's a flat and two- dimensional performance offering insufficient motivation for this Oakley to fall in love.

Society has changed a lot since Berlin's musical debuted in 1946. Should Annie Oakley hold back - miss shots that she could hit - in order to protect her man's ego? In 1946, you bet she should. And if the nonchalant sexism doesn't make you queasy, you still have to deal with comic Indians. This ugga-wugga tribe, skipping their helping verbs and turning on with peace pipes, makes Tiger Lily's band in \"Peter Pan\" look PC. It includes some lovely moments of forthright period staging. When Annie serenades children with a \"Moonshine Lullaby,\" the tableau is framed by train porters and conductors looking on indulgently; then they join her in a jazzy reprise. When she achieves the big conclusion of her self-deprecating signature tune, \"You Can't Get a Man With a Gun,\" she strikes a strident pose, trusty rifle aloft. At every turn, [Michael Hamilton]'s staging reminds us to look at this show the way we look at an old magazine - charming in its quaint distance, never meant to reflect the modern world.