Berg’s opera Lulu is no stranger to controversy. At the time of the composer’s death, there was little chance of his treatment of Frank Wedekind’s scandalous, sexually explicit plays reaching the stage, complete or incomplete.

Today, the moral issues are posed differently. Just how acceptable is the figure of an Eve-like temptress whose depraved nature unleashes havoc on all levels of society — aristocrats, businessmen, circus folk? To what extent is this objectification of women critiqued in the opera? Whether as predator or as victim, Lulu’s representation is fraught with problems. All the more welcome, then, is Christof Loy’s thought-provoking new production for Covent Garden, which confronts the sexual stereotypes, challenging traditional modes of theatre in the process.

Herbert Murauer’s set, starkly lit by Reinhard Traub, is essentially a three-sided black box, with a screen the width of the stage that reduces the playing area. This deliberately anonymous, featureless space stands for painter’s studio, salon, dressing room and all the other locations.
Props and costumes are severely monochromatic.

Stage entrances and exits are pointedly artificial, time lapses between scenes elided and the action abstracted, shorn of emotion.
What Loy has found is a gestural language to articulate the bizarre nature of this world and its amoral inhabitants. Alienating as it is, we see it all in a new light.

Lulu herself, for example, is not the usual flighty, flirty type but an inscrutable blank canvas defined by her relationship to others. The role is taken admirably here by the Swedish soprano Agneta Eichenholz, a late replacement for a singer who withdrew, herself a late announcement — an indication of how difficult a role this is to cast.

Resembling the “somnambulist in the field of love”, as the Viennese satirist Karl Kraus described her, this traumatised Lulu sleepwalks her way through exploitation to death.

Eichenholz had moments of uncertainty, perhaps due to first-night nerves, but demonstrated that she has the resources for the role; at her best she produced a sensuous tone of clear, penetrating power.

In the dual roles of Dr Schön and Jack the Ripper, Michael Volle was outstanding, as was Peter Rose as the Animal Trainer and Athlete.
The light tenor of Klaus Florian Vogt sounded less out of place as the somewhat effete composer Alwa than he does in the Wagnerian roles he also takes on. Jennifer Larmore’s Geschwitz brought a sympathetic, attractive quality to the role of the lesbian countess. Will Hartmann (Painter/Policeman/Negro), Gwynne Howell (Schigolch) and Philip Langridge also deserve special mention.

Antonio Pappano showed that even this formidably complex score could be delivered with eloquence and passion. Poetic tenderness was combined with controlled frenzy and ecstatic lyricism to complement an austere but intelligent production.

Until 20 June (020 7304 4000, www.roh.org.uk. To be broadcast on Radio 3 on 4 July).