"Lulu," Alban Berg's opera after Frank Wedekind's plays, which had its posthumous premiere, in a two-act version, in 1937, and was first given in its full, three-act version, completed by Friedrich Cerha, in 1979, returned to the Metropolitan Opera in the waning days of the season, after eight years' absence, with all new principals, magnificently realized in all of its complexity. "Lulu" concerns the endlessly fascinating eponymous 'earth spirit,' beloved of most men-and one woman-each of whom, the men, at any rate, has his own name for her-Mignon, Nelly, and Eva (Eve), beside Lulu-and projects onto her his own fantasies, expectation, and guilt. The first of three performances, on May 8, is considered here.

Elusive "Lulu"-morality play? cautionary tale? a "Carmen" for the 20th century, its heroine immoral or amoral, as she loses interest in a man after she's conquered him?-raises many questions and answers few. Marlis Petersen not only had the role's wide range, the high Ds and so on, well in hand, but was also riveting and aptly chameleon-like as the beautiful innocent, blithely untouched by the mayhem, suicide and homicide surrounding and ostensibly caused by her, as she manipulated her loves with her very detachment, until her freedom was threatened, making her imperiously demanding or wheedling, and then her descent began. Though her first husband, Dr. Goll (Mitchell Sendrowitz) abruptly had a stroke when he saw her with others, and her second, Walter Schwarz, the painter (Michael Schade)-who limned her as Pierrot, an image that would follow her throughout the rest of her life-slits his throat when he realizes she's not his alone, Petersen's Lulu remained unmoved until her protector, Dr. Ludwig Schön, the newspaper editor (James Morris), took steps to break off relations with her and put her in the humiliating position of having to dance onstage in front of his fiancée. Forcing Schön to end his engagement and achieving her goal of marrying him, she then proceeded to receive her other loves in his home-Rodrigo, the muscle-bound acrobat (Bradley Garvin), a brainless braggart, who would later blackmail her; the ancient Schigolch (Gwynne Howell, not as weird as the Met's first Schigolch, Andrew Foldi), looking like he's been rummaging through trash cans and often mistaken for her father; the eager schoolboy (Ginger Costa-Jackson, en travesti); the lesbian Countess Martha Geschwitz (Anne Sofie von Otter), who would have Lulu, in male attire, escort her to a ball for 'lady artists' (Künstlerinnenball); and even his own composer son Alwa Schön (Gary Lehman), and his manservant (Graham Clark), whom she rewards with a spank and with her used swizzle stick. As Petersen's protagonist flaunted her lovers to taunt Morris' increasingly tortured Schön, and explained that she always presented herself plainly to him, without deception, in her forthright coloratura "Lied der Lulu: Wenn sich die Menschen um meinetwillen umgebracht haben" (Even though men may kill themselves or others because of me), Schön brandished a revolver, with which, when the schoolboy distracted Schön, Lulu then shot her spouse.

Von Otter's self-sacrificing Countess, perhaps the only sympathetic figure in the whole unlovable lot, substituted herself for Lulu in the hospital of the prison, in which she'd been incarcerated for a year for Schön's murder, but subsequently chided Lulu, who called her insane (verrückt), while others called her devil (Teufel) and beast (Tier), for forgetting the vows she made to Geschwitz when they were in the hospital ward, sharing a case of cholera. They would later be linked in death.

All thoughts of Lulu's having shot his father-and poisoned his mother, too, she claims-fell by the wayside, as Lehman's ineffectual Alwa fell anew under Lulu's spell and became her next and last husband. He eventually contracted syphilis from her, which she got from the sleazy Marquis (Clark again), who would, like Garvin's acrobat, blackmail her or, alternatively, sell her to a brothel in Cairo.

When most of the characters were ruined by the financial collapse of the Jungfrau Cable Railway, in which they all invested-and here, James Courtney, as a banker, got quite a laugh with a line about bankers knowing what they're doing-an impoverished, degraded Lulu took to the street to turn tricks for money. An ailing Alwa, and Schigolch, back in rags after a brief moment of prosperity, were still Lulu's hangers-on, and soon joining them was the faithful countess, carrying the Pierrot portrait from Lulu's more carefree days, which its subject could no longer bear to look at. Lulu's johns proved to be but other incarnations of her past husbands. Sendrowitz returned as the professor, demanding Lulu's silence. Schade became the African Prince, manhandling Lulu, and killing Alwa, when he would intervene. Finally, Morris made a fateful re-appearance as Jack the Ripper, a fatal encounter for Lulu and Geschwitz alike, the latter having last loving words for her "Engel" (angel).

Fabio Luisi, recently named the Met's principal guest conductor and deputizing here for James Levine, who withdrew when he required back surgery, coordinated the daunting musical elements of this opus of spiky beauty and made them work seamlessly. John Dexter's 1977 production boasted renewed intensity, as staged by Gregory Keller. Jocelyn Herbert's designs have retained their Art Nouveau allure.

Additional performances of "Lulu" take place on May 12 at 8 p.m. and 15 at 12:30 p.m. For remaining tickets, priced from $15 to 375, telephone 212/362-6000, visit www.metopera.org, or go the Met box office at Lincoln Center. Rush tickets, for $20, are available at the box office for the weekday "Lulu" on the day of the performance.