When we first see Lulu, she's being painted in a Pierrette costume, posing in a jungle scene that looks like a cross between a Rousseau painting and a fluorescent Teletubbies set.
Within minutes, she's in a baby-doll nightie sucking a lollipop; then sporting a lesbian-chic cowgirl outfit; then wearing a gorgeous Dior ballgown. And so the transformations go on, until she finally appears as a Soho sex worker in cheap retro fetish gear.
It's remarkable enough that svelte soprano Lisa Saffer looks stunning in each outfit but it's even more impressive that she finds a vocal continuity to gel the whole thing together. Her beautiful sound (despite the fact that she sang with a sore throat on Monday) is always luxurious yet controlled, enticing yet distant, playful yet forbidding.
And it makes perfect sense of a woman who constantly recreates herself to achieve her aims.
Paul Daniel's conducting lacks inventive detail and doesn't quite match Saffer's mix of sensuality and steel but is a solid account of the score nonetheless. Richard Jones revives his witty and beautifully paced 2002 production with panache - and the surprise ending (based on a clever reading of the palindromic elements of the score) still packs a fabulous punch.
Paul Steinberg's sets look great. Like Lulu herself, they are based on a series of simple transformations held together by a few constant elements. And with their mix of 1930s and 1970s motifs, they suggest an unsettling world somewhere just behind the 20th century.
One or two of the other singers struggle on the high notes but the principal performers are excellent. Robert Hayward gives a tormented account of Dr Schˆn, Lulu's victim and nemesis, and Susan Parry gives impressive weight to the hopelessly touching role of Countess Geschwitz. And the one-to-watch tenor Jeffrey Lloyd-Roberts makes a spicy ENO debut as Alwa, a smart composer who degenerates into a syphilitic wreck.
Lulu
