A new production of Giacomo Puccini's "Tosca" opened the Metropolitan Opera season on September 21. I caught up with it on October 14, at the seventh of the season's 16 performances. This "Tosca" lost its scheduled Scarpia before it opened, conductor James Levine just after it opened and, on the night I attended, its celebrated diva as well, so whether Karita Mattila and Tosca make a good match for each other must remain a mystery to this reviewer for now.

A performance of "Tosca" should be, and can be, a grand event. This, however, was a "Tosca" fairly devoid of romance and glamour. The absence of Mattila may have helped to cast a pall over the evening, but the drab production, directed by Luc Bondy and designed by Richard Peduzzi (sets), Milena Canonero (costumes) and Max Keller (lighting), didn't aid matters.

Peduzzi's first act church looks like a brick garage, a factory or, at best, an armory. The far stage right, presumed location of the Madonna is indicated by an arrangement of folding wooden chairs, and stage left, dominated by Cavaradossi's painting of the Magdalen, with one breast bared. The church procession is colorful, at any rate. Scarpia's quarters seem like a not-terribly-interesting hotel lobby. The stage is mostly bare for Act Three-no Roman skyline, no "stars brightly shining": is the hero's "E lucevan le stelle" meant to be ironic?-just the firing squad practicing maneuvers while the church bells toll, the shepherd boy sings his sweet song, and the doomed painter slumbers on the floor downstage. For the rooftop structures, on stage left, the damned bricks are back again.

Bondy's most striking, novel ideas, however off-putting, involve Scarpia, who halts the revelry in church from atop an industrial-looking staircase; tilts the statue of the Madonna, borne in by louche characters in black hoods, toward him to kiss Her on the mouth; and is entertained, in his office, by a bevy of floozies, one of whom appears to be giving him head.

Leading singers Maria Gavrilova, Marcelo Álvarez, and George Gagnidze, paced, slowly, by Joseph Colaneri, sang with some fervor, but could scarcely dispel the torpor of this earthbound affair, which felt like a late-in-the-season run-through, a decade into the run, instead of a recently restudied effort, less than a month old.

Bolshoi-bred Gavrilova, who sings in the Met premiere of Shostakovich's "The Nose" in March, displayed a solid spinto soprano and a strong high C, but a lack of legato marred her "Vissi d'arte." Álvarez sang with enthusiasm, but all the highest passages, far from finding him at ease, seemed to take him to the upper limits of his tenor. To give credit where it's due, the third act duet represented Gavrilova and Álvarez's most inspired singing of the night.

Gagnidze made the best all-around showing as a suitably scary, suitably creepy chief of police, his Scarpia a menacing would-be rapist until Tosca kills him. No crucifix, no candlesticks to send him off here, though: after the deed is done, Tosca, who doesn't have to hunt for the safe conduct, but snatches it readily from the dead Scarpia's hand, looks longingly out of the villain's high window, as if anticipating her jump to her death later on, then sinks back onto one of his couches, fanning herself.

Paul Plishka puts in a cameo appearance as a fittingly fussy, cowering Sacristan. Joel Sorensen, James Courtney, David Pittsinger, Keith Miller and boy soprano Jonathan Makepeace take the other roles.

Repetitions of "Tosca" are on October 17 and April 14, 2010, at 8 p.m., April 17 at 8:30, 20 at 8, 24 at 1, 29 and May 5 at 8, 8 at 8:30, and 13 at 8. For tickets, priced from $15 to 375, telephone 212/362-6000, visit www.metopera.org, or go the Met box office at Lincoln Center.