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SeokJong Baek as Radamès and Angel Blue as Aida in Verdi's Aida (Photo: Ken Howard/Met Opera)

The Metropolitan Opera opened the New Year with its first new staging of Verdi’s Aida in 37 years.  Regulars had every right to be trepidatious: A few years ago we witnessed Gounod’s Faust drop the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima, and later, Lucia di Lammermoor moved from 17th century Scotland to a present-day rundown town in Pennsylvania, complete with heroin addicts. Martin Mayer’s shiny, new production, it turns out, is almost every bit as grand and conventional as was Sonja Frisell’s in 1988, with one exception: During the Prelude, through a scrim, we witness an archaeologist rappelling down into what must be an ancient tomb (the sets are by Christine Jones), with gigantic, dusty, nearly monochromatic walls decorated with hieroglyphics, carvings and statues; as the prelude ends and our pith-helmeted guest departs, the walls develop handsome hues of gold, red and lapis lazuli - a nice effect. More archaeologists come and go throughout the opera, and eventually, during the Triumphal Scene, instead of a parade of prisoners, they enter carrying loot from the tomb(s) - statues of animals, urns, etc. And I guess that was the point all along - they were excavating and appropriating another culture just as we are, watching and listening to a story about wars and people we don’t know much about, but are being entertained by. This entire overlay neither hurt nor helped the production/performance, but it is a nice attempt to 'update' without intruding too much.

Otherwise, the blocking was clear and ordinary, with few surprises or new insights. Aside from the fiery Amonasro/Aida duet in the third act, the characters’ rarely interacted - there was a lot of park-and-bark, making whole scenes seem like a well sung run-through. And, oh yes - one dreadful idea: As indicated, Amneris is present above the entombed lovers at the opera’s end, and this rich character - arguably the opera’s only rich character - is filled with regret at having doomed the man she loves, a decision that her arrogance and haughtiness will make her pay for for the rest of her life. Here, Mr Mayer has her commit hara kiri as the curtain falls, thereby alleviating her grieving and taking attention away from the just-about-dead lovers. An odd choice.

The opening night gala had been compromised by the indisposition of Piotr Beczala as Radames. Announced as having a cold, he opted to sing anyway, and it turned out to be a terrible decision on both his part and the Met’s management. Quasi outrage ensued. I saw the third performance, by which time SeonkJong Baek had been flown in from the Arizona Opera to sing the role, having scored a success in Tosca earlier in the Met season. And he was remarkable. The voice is big and steely, capable of rising over Verdi’s big orchestration and grand choruses with power and beauty. He studied as a baritone for 15 years before reconsidering his fach and finding his top notes, and there isn't a break or a weakness anywhere in his voice. He holds on to high notes just long enough to thrill, while always keeping to the vocal line. He rarely attempts any volume below mezzo-forte, which can tire the listener,  but his emission is so clean and his diction so clear, that he never seems to be oversinging.

SeokJong Baek as Radamès in Verdi's Aida (Photo: Ken Howard/Met Opera)

Angel Blue, a house favourite, made her role debut as Aida. One feared her voice might be a bit small for the part, but the gleam of her upper register and the intelligent use of her lower octave, without resorting to a heavy chest voice, proved that she had the goods. The tone is lush and luscious; her high pianissimi simply beautiful. Her 'Ritorna vincitor' was ideal, expressing Aida’s inner turbulence as well as her devout supplication, and the long lines of 'O Patria mia' held no fears for her. Except for a few high octane moments, her acting was perfunctory, as she waited for her next vocal cue. One suspects she will grow in the role, and when she does, she might just own the part.

I suspect that nobody will accuse our Amneris, Judit Kutasi, of having a beautiful voice, but her high-handed, swaggering portrayal was very effective. Swirling acres of chiffon around herself when not hurling herself to the floor, her campy behavior was backed up by a gigantic, piercing, solid upper register. Like it or not, she walked away, as fine Amneris’s do, with the Judgment Scene. Quinn Kelsey, a superb Verdi baritone, offered the most dramatically cogent performance of the evening as Amonasro, and he presented a lesson in legato singing.

Ramfis was authoritatively sung by Morris Robinson substituting for an ill colleague, and Harold Wilson was the towering King, which was supposed to have been sung by Mr Robinson.

The choreography by Oleg Glushkov was as expected, but shone in an interlude in the Triumphal Scene for buff, shirtless men in blue skirts and leather helmets which was simply wild and might be used for military basic training. Susan Hilferty’s glitzy costumes in blues, golds and a gaggle of reds, were grand.

The superb Met Orchestra and Chorus perform gloriously for Yannick Nézet-Séguin, whose lack of eccentricities are most welcome in a pageant such as this one. The whispered strings, the brilliant brass - placed in two of the Parterre Boxes - the lovely aural breeze in the Nile Act, added up to a feast for the ears. If only the drama had been better focussed on the principals.

Until May 9 metopera.org