Mariusz Kwiecien as Onegin and Anna Netrebko as Tatiana. Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

Eugene Onegin

The Metropolitan Opera

Through Dec. 12

New York

The Metropolitan Opera's opening-night production of Peter Tchaikovsky's "Eugene Onegin" (1879) on Monday featured two of the company's current obsessions: a co-production with the English National Opera, and soprano Anna Netrebko. Neither worked out quite as planned. Deborah Warner, who directed the ENO show in 2011, pulled out of the New York staging for medical reasons and was replaced by actress-director Fiona Shaw, a frequent collaborator. Ms. Netrebko, who is far more suited to the Russian repertory than the bel canto projects in which the Met has showcased her in recent seasons, turned in a respectable but far from revelatory performance. In addition, the Met became a target for LGBT activists calling for Ms. Netrebko and Valery Gergiev, the opera's conductor, both supporters of Vladimir Putin, to speak out against Russia's new antigay laws.

The demonstrators who yelled from the upper reaches of the house before the performance began were probably the most startling aspects of this pedestrian evening. "Eugene Onegin" is an intimate tale, in which the teenage Tatiana, living on a remote country estate and in thrall to romantic novels, falls headlong in love with the snobbish Onegin. He casually rejects her and then provokes a fatal duel with his friend Lenski. A few years later, Onegin, who has been traveling aimlessly since the duel, returns to Russia, where he finds Tatiana married to an aristocrat, and the tables are turned.

Ms. Warner and Ms. Shaw offered no radical reinterpretation (the Met audience probably would not have gone for the Munich fantasy version, which invoked the composer's homosexuality, with Lenski and Onegin as lovers and half-naked cowboys and drag queens performing the dances). This production was tame and picturesque, beginning with the moody show-curtain projections that portrayed Russia's vast landscapes and harsh weather before each scene.

Tom Pye's monochromatic sets started out looking naturalistic, if rather bare: The large, glassed-in summer porch and the ballroom at the Larin country estate were rustically realistic, though their smokily mirrored walls hinted at something more. Later, abstraction crept in. The icy lake where the duel is fought looked like a box, and the eight massive columns that represented Prince Gremin's palace in Act III took up all the playing space. Dark, buttoned-up, late-19th-century costumes by Chloe Obolensky and wintery lighting by Jean Kalman moved the opera from the Romantic era of its Alexander Pushkin source to the time of its premiere, giving it a bleak, Chekhovian aura.

Ms. Shaw's directing had moments of interesting detail. Ms. Netrebko physically projected Tatiana's excruciating shyness and terror at her own feelings. Mariusz Kwiecien played Onegin as a total cad, who eyed Tatiana as though she were a scientific specimen and munched on an apple after breaking her heart. He also arrived (late) for the duel eating a sandwich. But the big emotional scenes, like Tatiana's "Letter Scene" and the final duet, were disappointingly generic.

It was good to hear Ms. Netrebko in the Russian repertory again (she made her Met debut as a lovely Natasha in "War and Peace" in 2002). The role of Tatiana suits her voluptuous sound, plush legato and dark vocal coloration. Her acting tends to be one-dimensional, but here she often conveyed the character's youth, innocence and sudden, disastrous plunge into emotion. That said, her "Letter Scene," the high point of the opera, was well-sung but did not capture the heart, and the volcanic emotion that Tatiana feels in the final scene, when she in turn rejects Onegin, did not really break through her surface reserve.

The ardent young poet Lenski often steals the show, and tenor Piotr Beczala did just that, with beautiful singing and open, heartfelt acting. His declaration of love to Tatiana's flighty sister Olga was magical, and the simple intensity of his preduel aria was breathtaking. Mr. Kwiecien's crisp brutality thus stood out even more; however, Onegin's sudden transformation, when he declares his love for Tatiana at the end, seemed to come out of nowhere. Oksana Volkova was a pert, lively Olga; Larissa Diadkova was warm as Tatiana's nurse, Filippyevna; and Alexei Tanovitski was growly and undistinguished as Prince Gremin. John Graham-Hall coped admirably with an awkward characterization of Triquet, who sings a celebratory poem to Tatiana at her name-day party: He wore a leg brace and appeared to be a tolerated local eccentric rather than a welcome guest.

Choreographer Kim Brandstrup's dances stood out, contrasting the chaotic, sometimes bawdy fun of the country harvest festival and name-day party with the stiff court patterns of Prince Gremin's ball. The chorus was full-bodied, but had occasional coordination problems. These seemed to emanate from the pit, where Mr. Gergiev's erratic leadership resulted in some very messy ensemble work.

The evening was slowed by extended breaks between scenes (the evocative landscape pictures, with hints of animation, could not compensate) and a two-intermission format that stretched the show to more than four hours. They helped make this "Onegin," which should be heartbreakingly poignant, disappointingly dull.

Ms. Waleson writes about opera for the Journal.