Alban BERG (1885-1935) 
          Lulu (1935, unfinished version) [135.00] 
          Evelyn Lear (soprano) - Lulu; Paul Schöffler (baritone) - Dr Schön; 
          Rudolf Schock (tenor) - Alwa; Kurt Equiluz (tenor) - Painter; Gisela 
          Litz (mezzo) - Countess Geschwitz; Josef Knapp (baritone) - Schigolch; 
          Hans Braun (baritone) - Rodrigo; Margarete Ast (contralto) - Schoolboy; 
          Peter Klein (tenor) - Prince; Hilde Konetzni (mezzo) - Wardrobe mistress; 
          Ludwig Welter (bass) - Theatre director; Siegfried Rudolf Frese (tenor) 
          - Servant; Alois Pernestorfer (bass) - Animal trainer; Guido Wieland 
          (bass) - Dr Goll; Toni Birkmeyer (silent) - Jack the Ripper 
          Vienna Symphony Orchestra/Karl Böhm 
          rec. Theater an der Wien, Vienna, 9 June 1962 
          Sound: PCM Mono 
          Picture: 4:3/NTSC 
          Subtitle Languages: DE (Original Language), GB, FR, ES, IT 
          Region Code: 0 
          
ARTHAUS 101 687 
 
          [135.00]
 
          
          I first made the acquaintance of the score of Lulu through the 
          1968 recording conducted by Karl Böhm, also with Evelyn Lear in 
          the title role. This DVD enshrines a performance given six years earlier, 
          and indeed records the Austrian première of the work given in 
          1962. Böhm was one of the most annoying of the major German conductors 
          of the period, because of his apparently overwhelming desire to set 
          his own mark on operatic scores by subjecting them to often massive 
          cutting. He even abridged Götterdämmerung at Bayreuth 
          in 1964, although his later performances which formed the basis for 
          his recording restored the omitted passage. In the works of his mentor 
          Richard Strauss he made cuts in his première recording of Daphne 
          - a score which was dedicated to him - and his use of the scissors in 
          pieces such as Elektra and Die Frau ohne Schatten became 
          more and more extreme as time went on. Berg’s use of closed musical 
          forms defied his editorial zeal, so here in this Lulu we are 
          given the score complete - or as complete as was possible at the time. 
          
            
          Berg left Lulu unfinished at the time of his death, with only 
          two passages of the Third Act completed and revised in full score as 
          part of the Lulu Suite although fortunately these included the 
          very end of the opera. Although the score was almost totally complete 
          in sketch form, his widow forbade anybody from attempting to put the 
          final Act into a performable condition. It was not until after her death 
          that Pierre Boulez finally managed to mount the opera in its entirety 
          in 1979, using an edition by Friedrich Cerha. The latter edition has 
          become the standard for all subsequent productions, and quite rightly 
          too. Cerha manages to produce a very convincing imitation of Berg’s 
          style, and the plot benefits enormously from being given at full length. 
          In the middle of the Second Act Berg wrote a palindromic interlude, 
          which turns the plot like a pivot; the first part of the opera shows 
          Lulu’s rise to riches and fame, and the second mirrors that in 
          its depiction of her fall, degradation and murder. There is even a deliberate 
          parody of the first half in the final scene, where each of Lulu’s 
          clients as a prostitute is sung by the same singers as the lovers who 
          have ‘helped’ her during the first part. Without these scenes 
          the palindromic interlude is misplaced, and the proportions of the whole 
          are maimed. Sadly, that was the only version available to Böhm 
          at the time, and so that is what we are given here. 
            
          Of the seven rival versions of Lulu on DVD, all use the Cerha 
          completion. Oddly enough the available versions do not include Patrice 
          Chéreau’s première production of the full score 
          which Boulez conducted, although this was televised at the time and 
          really deserves to be in the catalogues. Given the plethora of complete 
          recordings, this DVD is valuable purely as a historical document - although 
          it is a pretty good one, and gives us the score as it was always performed 
          during the first 44 years of its existence. That said, it cannot be 
          pretended that in 1962 players and singers were as comfortable with 
          Berg’s often extreme demands on their techniques as they are today. 
          The orchestral playing, although it sounds pretty accurate and was clearly 
          well rehearsed, is not such as to inspire confidence; and the recorded 
          balance is such that even in the opening bars the smashing piano clusters 
          are hardly audible. 
            
          The singers too are an oddly assorted bunch, combining veteran singers 
          in the twilight of their careers with a batch of young stars in the 
          making. In the latter category can be counted Evelyn Lear’s heroine, 
          Kurt Equiluz as the painter, and Hans Braun as the athlete. In the former 
          category we find Paul Schöffler as Doctor Schön (although 
          not, as Berg intended, doubling as Jack the Ripper), Peter Klein as 
          the Prince, Hilde Konetzni as the Wardrobe Mistress and Alois Pernestorfer 
          as the Ringmaster. The last-named, best-known now for his Alberich in 
          Furtwängler’s 1950 La Scala Ring, makes a pretty good 
          impression in his opening scene, delivering his Sprechstimme 
          with relish and displaying a still well-preserved voice. The other veterans, 
          all Wagnerian singers of note during the 1950s, have plenty of volume 
          and a strong sense of pitch to bring to their roles. They are assisted, 
          too, by the young Otto Schenk’s production, with plenty of dramatic 
          interplay in a naturalistic style. Schenk often failed to match this 
          in many of his later stagings for the Met and elsewhere. These are real 
          characters, and one can even feel a certain twinge of sympathy for the 
          collection of egotistical monsters that Wedekind and Berg created on 
          stage. One should also mention the baritone Josef Knapp as Lulu’s 
          putative father. The role is often allocated to veteran Wagnerian basses 
          but here we have a singer with a firm voice who can sustain his lines 
          superbly but despite his white hair and moustache he hardly looks seventy 
          years old. 
            
          In the title role Evelyn Lear is a model of corrupting and decaying 
          glamour. In her succession of gorgeous dresses she imports an element 
          of Elizabeth Taylor into the dramatic mix. She also sings her frequently 
          stratospheric notes with a degree of poise which eludes many other singers 
          who have essayed the role. Rudolf Schock too has a degree of glamour, 
          despite looking like a rather seedy lounge lizard. Although his career 
          was drawing towards its close he still has reserves of lyric strength 
          which recall his glory days as Walther in Kempe’s recording of 
          Die Meistersinger. Schöffler too had a claim to fame in 
          that opera, and it cannot be pretended that his voice as heard here 
          would any longer suit the role of Hans Sachs. However he still has plenty 
          of power, even if he has to resort to shouting his notes rather more 
          than Berg’s Sprechstimme would strictly permit. 
            
          No attempt is made to provide a visual stage presentation for the long 
          interlude in Act Two (where Berg wanted a film to be screened to explain 
          the action) or in the Variations. Instead, as during the other interludes, 
          we are shown Böhm in the pit, conducting with economical gestures 
          from a largely sedentary position. The balance of the orchestral playing 
          is not good. The brass are sometimes ear-splittingly loud, and the strings 
          often sound dismally thin and underpowered. This is particularly disturbing 
          during the Variations. The recorded balance favours the singers on stage, 
          but they frequently have to force their voices to ride the outbursts 
          from the brass in the pit. During the final Adagio we are shown the 
          Countess, the only really sympathetic character in the whole opera, 
          who declaims some lines from earlier in the Act and then delivers her 
          final lament over Lulu after the silent Jack the Ripper has killed her. 
          Gisela Litz is very good dramatically and looks young enough to be a 
          credible lover for Lulu, but one has heard this passage delivered with 
          greater lyrical beauty. 
            
          There are no extras provided, but the subtitles - derived from Arthur 
          Jacobs’s singing translation - are well-placed and informative 
          despite a couple of errors - “to well” for “too well”, 
          for example. There are one or two minor adjustments in the spoken dialogue, 
          splitting up Lulu’s long narration of her escape from prison, 
          but these are unimportant. 
            
          The opening of the DVD apologises for the quality of sound and picture, 
          but the black-and-white images are clear enough and the sound is generally 
          good although the applause at the end of Acts reveals a degree of wow 
          and flutter that suggests some tape damage. 
            
          As a version of the original version of Lulu this is unique in 
          the catalogue; and although those wanting a DVD of the opera will inevitably 
          gravitate towards a complete rendition of the score, the quality of 
          the performance is sufficient to justify a place for this historical 
          recording in the catalogues. It has another advantage, too: unlike many 
          of the modern issues, it adheres to Berg’s original scenario without 
          the superfluous addition of any layers of confusing ‘conception’. 
          
            
          Paul Corfield Godfrey