Alban Berg died without finishing the second of his two important operas, leaving a fragmentary score for performance in the years after his death.  The fullest construction of what he envisioned first appeared at the Paris Opera, only in 1979.  This three act version is what rests in the repertoire now.  Willy Decker’s s stylized production is somewhat bland but leaves little to the imagination.  All of the action transpires in the cartoonish but approximate settings called for in the libretto, with the major stage innovation resting on a cut away ceiling that yields a steep black staircase rising to the top of the proscenium.  It is there that the chorus observes the action.  It is the setting for Lulu’s off-stage cabaret in the third act.  And, this being opera, characters can descend from it into the action as it unfolds within the main set. Sometimes this is done via ladder, but in the most evocative moments, such as Lulu’s first husband Dr. Schoen’s entry and brief scene involving a fatal heart attack, the character is simply dropped in by the chorus.  Eerily, we also see it in full use as Lulu and her lesbian paramour Countess Geschwitz contemplate their own savage deaths.  Traditionally murdered by Jack the Ripper, who does kill Geschwitz by himself in this production, Lulu’s demise is at the hands of the entire chorus, who are dressed to resemble the notorious serial killer.  It is unclear whether we are meant to believe that it is in fact an oppressive society that drives Lulu to insanity and a most unsavory end, but I wondered whether this approach was a bit heavy handed or possibly even misguided.  Lulu surely does enough damage to herself and others as a result of her amoral and lascivious behavior.  Her toxic persona could be created by her strange relationship with her possible father and pimp Schigolch, but who is he but some old pervert? The answers to these questions of developmental psychology are largely left unanswered.

Berg’s score emerged through fine voices, but Michael Schonwandt’s slow paces on the podium delivered less drive than one might prefer.  Nevertheless, Laura Aikin well deserves the international attention she has won in the title role.  She soared stratospherically, held back only by the lacking orchestral music.  Jennifer Larmore’s Geschwitz also excelled in producing resonant mezzo tones that could inhabit both evil seduction and hopeless desperation.  Franz Grundheber’s Schigolch has only brief appearances, but stood as the full equal of his fine recent performances of Wozzeck, the title character in Berg’s other best opera.  In the role of Alwa, written in that modernist pinched tenor Fach that communicates neurosis so well, Kurt Streit acquitted himself admirably.  Wolfgang Schoene did some fine character acting and singing as both Dr. Schoen and Jack the Ripper, a double casting that suggests that Lulu’s murder at Jack’s hands is really revenge for the grief-driven death she caused Dr. Schoen.