What fourth wall? Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill compiled The Threepenny Opera, their adaption of (18th century) John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera, with theatricality and a knowing self-consciousness integral to the socialist critique of capitalism. The Berliner Ensemble’s high-octane production, directed by Barrie Kosky and presented at the Edinburgh International Festival acknowledges that and, from that first ‘Und …’ sung by the white, sparkly face of The Moon over Soho poking through the glittering, tinselly drop, turns in a slick and sophisticated performance.

‘Und …’ is, of course, the first word of the story of Mackie Messer (Macheath), played by Gabriel Schneider, in an athletic performance of wit and versatility. Whether singing, dancing, miming, clambering over, under and through the intricate set, his character hogs the attention at the same time that his amorality intrigues.

But first we meet Jonathan Peachum (Tilo Nest), preaching morality and business, though not as we know it. His equanimity is punctured by his wife, Celia (Pauline Knof); the description of her daughter’s ‘gentleman caller’ fits that of Mackie Messer, and then they discover she has run away from home. Polly is indeed with Mackie. Cynthia Micas, in silver platform sandals and short white frou-frou dress, is celebrating her wedding to Mackie, while deploring the rather sordid accommodation; Mackie takes the opportunity to introduce the band.

And what a band, playing Weill’s complex rhythms and varied musical styles with aplomb and gusto. Multitasking, too; not just conductor Adam Benzwi, but most others play several instruments – though not at the same time. There are beautifully placed bottom notes from the trombone, landing like an emphatic full stop.

Mackie is multitasking too – a varied criminal career, in just 18 months, impresses Polly, though he checks with the corrupt representative of the justice system, Tiger Brown (Kathrin Wehlisch) that there’s nothing on his record at Scotland Yard. Mackie’s duet with Brown, the Kanonen-song recalling their army career in India, is powerfully sung.

Micas has a good voice, and an impressive dynamic range. She is a good contrast to her rival Lucy Brown, who is always twirling in her frock layered with fringeing – the Jealousy Duet ricocheting across the stage. Before his arrest, Mackie has given Polly, his wife, instructions to continue his business empire. While Lucy helps him escape, he is soon caught again; Brown has decided arresting Mackie is the lesser evil. Polly, however, carried out Mackie’s instructions too well, and there is no ready money to hand to bribe his jailers. In the Call from the Grave, Schneider again combines acting and singing to great effect.

More laid back than his other girls is his erstwhile lover Spelunken Jenny (Bettina Hoppe), joining Mackie in the Pimp’s Ballad; her own moral waverings are laid bare when she is bribed to turn him in.

Rebecca Ringst’s set comprises the tinselly drop, effective for entrances and exits and giving a rather cabaret atmosphere, which rises to reveal a complex construction which could be a skeletal representation of buildings with floors and ladders, and tables, and benches for sitting on, and steps. Ulrich Eh’s lighting is as knowing as the rest of the production. Dinah Ehm’s costumes – the frou-frou frock, Celia Peachum’s fur coat – are fun and effective.

Justice catching up with him at last, Mackie is hung after addressing his audience – including former lovers – in the Grave Inscription, but then a late reprieve arrives and Mackie makes a miraculous recovery, undoing his noose and hanging there in elegant fashion like a latter-day Peter Pan. In addition, he has been granted a peerage. For all Brecht’s finger on the pulse of 1920s Germany, one might expect that particular line to be more richly appreciated by a British audience some 90-odd years on.