Just as the love potion in “L’Elisir d’Amore” turns out to be cheap red wine, the Met’s new production of this Donizetti opera offers no magic, just a momentary buzz.
The singing of superstar soprano Anna Netrebko aside, there was more sparkle in Monday’s opening-night audience — whose couture-clad VIPs included Courtney Love and Regis Philbin — than in Bartlett Sher’s redo of this slight 1832 comedy.
It’s a love story about the peasant Nemorino, who’s too shy to approach the witty, rich Adina until he gulps the high-proof potion and his boozy confidence catches her eye.
Though “Elisir” is generally regarded as a tenor showcase — everyone from Caruso to Pavarotti sang it — this performance was dominated by Netrebko’s Adina.
With a voice really too glamorous for the part — it’s like carpooling in a Jaguar — the Russian diva ravished the ear with both coloratura fireworks and lyrical melodies. She dominated every scene effortlessly, too, with an enchanting blend of magnetism and wacky energy.
Next to her, Matthew Polenzani’s Nemorino seemed a little plain. In the opera’s hit tune, “Una Furtiva Lagrima” (“A Hidden Tear”), in which the hero realizes Adina finally loves him, every note was pristine.
But what you heard was well-crafted singing, not a cry from the heart.
Ambrogio Maestri brought a rich, booming baritone to the role of the conniving Doctor Dulcamara, his expert mugging winning him most of the night’s few laughs.
As Belcore, the studly soldier who flirts with Adina, Mariusz Kwiecien distorted his light baritone by trying to sing too loud. His acting went over the top, too: All that groping and pawing crossed the line between “randy” and “rapey.”
For this, his fourth assignment at the Met, Sher traded the wit and charm of this gentle love story for noisy butt-slapping and skirt-twirling. Singers flailed around aimlessly while villagers tripped over each other.
Worse, the staging’s visually stale. During an interminable scene change in the first act, one spectator whispered over the onstage banging and crashing, “How old is this production, anyway?”
Indeed, the opening night looked like a revival, with faded flats and generic peasant costumes that might have been unearthed from a damp warehouse in the wilds of New Jersey.
Musically, things weren’t much better: Maurizio Benini coaxed a fizzy, bright sound from the Met orchestra in faster numbers, but the all-important love songs were rushed.
For the Met, this “Elisir” was anything but a vintage night.