6.7 | / 10 |
| Users | 0.0 | |
| Reviewer | 4.0 | |
| Overall | 4.0 |
| Music | 100% |
Video codec: VC-1
Video resolution: 1080i
Aspect ratio: 1.78:1
Original aspect ratio: 1.78:1
German: LPCM 2.0
German: Dolby Digital 5.1
English
25GB Blu-ray Disc
Single disc (1 BD)
Region A (B, C untested)
| Movie | 4.0 | |
| Video | 4.5 | |
| Audio | 3.5 | |
| Extras | 0.0 | |
| Overall | 4.0 |
Gross overgeneralization alert: musicologists and historians will probably take exception to the following paragraph, but bear with me for a moment. What purpose has music served throughout its inestimable history? From the furthest reaches of human memory, music has probably been married to ritual, whether that meant the rhythmic drumbeats of ancient cavemen or more formulaic utilization in ancient Greece and Rome. Somewhere along the way, the sheer hedonistic pleasure that music gives gave birth to the idea of music as entertainment, though there was often still a ritualistic element even in many of these “entertaining” outings, as in music written for coronations or religious festivities. But when the Romantic Era pushed hedonism to what was heretofore unexpected excesses of expression, a decidedly odd thing happened. The decline of traditional tonality seemed to cry out for some kind of structure, something to pin a composition on, and the leading thinkers of the early twentieth century went back to the musical drawing board, “inventing” serial composition. Some would argue that this reduced the Art of Music to a mere Intellectual Exercise, and in less than graceful hands, that’s exactly what a lot of twelve tone opuses end up sounding like. What’s so bracing about so much of Alban Berg’s efforts in this seemingly extremely restrictive compositional landscape is how outrageously emotional so much of his music actually is. There’s probably no greater example than Lulu, a piece that was left incomplete when Berg died in 1935, but which was somewhat finessed posthumously and premiered in a two act (unfinished) form in Zurich in 1937.


Lulu is presented on Blu-ray courtesy of Kultur and Unitel Classica with a VC-1 encoded 1080i transfer in 1.78:1. This presentation benefits from having its minimal sets and backdrops feature a lot of white, leading to a brighter than average production that offers better opportunity for crisp imagery. The gorgeous painted backdrops by Daniel Richter pop magnificently in this high definition presentation, and fine detail is also quite excellent in the close-ups of the singers. Colors are nicely robust and well saturated, especially the ubiquitous reds which pop perhaps more than they would otherwise due to their contrast with the equally ubiquitous whites this production features. The overall image here is very sharp and well defined and certainly augurs well for any future Unitel Classica releases distributed by Kultur.

While there's nothing wrong with Lulu's uncompressed LPCM 2.0 audio mix, it's somewhat strange that there is no lossless surround mix included on this Blu-ray. Instead, a rather paltry sounding Dolby Digital 5.0 mix is included, though few will probably prefer it, even with its added spaciousness, when it's compared to the much more robust sounding LPCM track. While obviously narrow, the LPCM track supports the extreme register differences in the Berg score, and dynamic range is similarly facilely handled. All frequency ranges shine here, with Petibon's expressive high notes especially impressive. Berg's astringent string writing is brittle and dry, but doesn't sound particularly grating given the playing of the Vienna Philharmonic, and overall this stereo track does surprisingly well. That said, future releases should really offer a lossless surround track.

Unfortunately no supplements of any kind are included either on the Blu-ray disc itself or in terms of an insert booklet. (There is an insert sheet that details chapter stops.) Whether this is due to action (or inaction as the case may be) on the part of Unitel Classica or Kultur is anyone's guess, but when Unitel Classica was distributed by Naxos, their releases almost always came with insert booklets featuring interest essays giving background information on the pieces as well as whatever particular production was being presented. That certainly would have been most appreciated with this intriguing production of an iconic piece.

Lulu is one of the most bracing pieces in all of operatic repertoire, and it features one of the most enigmatic, riveting "heroines" in all of Art. Lulu is a decidedly complex character, and too often productions seem opaque and unfocused because Lulu's machinations never seem to make much sense. There's a very thin line that needs to be toed in any production of this opera, as the music is so declamatory and the characters so hyperbolic that the whole thing can seem like a cartoon, something also made dangerous by Berg's rather trenchant sense of humor which filters through the opera. The good news is this Salzburg Festival production gets just about everything right. From a production design standpoint, this production is a true standout, with some incredibly beautiful and evocative paintings by Daniel Richter helping to appropriately set the mood. And stage director Vera Nemirova doesn't ever push things too far, instead letting the instrinsic power of the piece speak for itself rather than beating the audience over the head with any directorial additions. The cast here is largely wonderful, with Petibon a real standout in the title role, matched by some very visceral work by her cast mates, especially Volle and Breslik. Lulu is certainly not going to be everyone's cup of tea, but for those who want to experience one of the most iconic pieces of 20th century opera, this production is certainly a great place to start. The video quality here is great, and while the lack of a lossless surround track is puzzling, at least the uncompressed LPCM 2.0 track sounds very good. Future releases should really have some sort of supplementary material, though, even if that's only an insert booklet with explanatory essays. Recommended.