It’s not often you see a half-naked pole dancer cavorting onstage at the Metropolitan Opera House. But that’s just one of the many startling sights in their new production of Rigoletto. Staged by theater director Michael Mayer (Spring Awakening, American Idiot) in his Met Opera debut, this audacious version of Verdi’s 1851 classic has been reset to 1960’s era Las Vegas. And while the updating has the sort of logistical flaws typical of such operatic revampings, it’s an entertainingly robust and imaginative rendition that should attract fresh audiences.

There’s no doubt that we’re no longer in 15th century Italy from the first glimpse of Christine Jones’ lavish set design of a Vegas casino emblazoned with neon signs and the performers clad in Susan Hilferty’s tacky, brightly-colored costumes. Here, the Duke (Piotr Beczala) is a womanizing, Sinatra-style lounge singer in a white dinner jacket, grabbing a microphone to sing his aria “Questa o quella” to an adoring crowd.

The hunchbacked Rigoletto (Zeljko Lucic) is his sidekick, an abrasive, Don-Rickles type comedian. The basic story, adapted from a Victor Hugo play, manages to come through clearly in this conception. The Duke seduces Rigoletto’s beautiful virginal daughter Gilda (Diana Damrau), thereby incurring his wrath. He hires a killer, Sparafucile (Stefan Kocan), to exact revenge, with inevitable tragic results.

This sort of thing has been done many times before, with Rigoletto in particular having undergone numerous transformations in its long performance history, including a famous version staged by Jonathan Miller for the English National Opera that was set in 1950’s Little Italy. But the opera, unlike certain others in the standard repertory, is strong enough to endure such tampering. Here, even the jarringly slang-laden translation delivered via surtitles is more amusing than heretical.

And, as is usual for the Met, the production is beautifully sung. Polish tenor Beczala does beautifully by such familiar arias as La donna e mobile” while delivering a smoothly charismatic performance. Serbian baritone Lucic makes a strong vocal impression as the Duke, even if his acting leaves something to be desired. German soprano Damrau sings luminously as the doomed Gilda, and Slovakian bass Kocan makes for a memorably oily hit man, inspiring chills with his deep rumblings. Belarussian mezzo-soprano Oksana Volkova is also memorable, both visually and aurally, as Sparafucile’s seductive sister Maddalena. Italian conductor Michele Mariotti presides over the proceedings expertly, fully mining the riches of Verdi’s score.

Clever touches abound, such as when Gilda’s near-dead body is disposed of not by bundling it into a sack but instead stuffed into the truck of a vintage Cadillac. During the storm scenes, flash of neon lightning crisscross the set. And Monterone (Robert Pomakov), the count who places a fateful curse on

Purists will inevitably scoff. But there’s no denying that this Rigoletto is a freshly invigorating, especially when compared to such recent Met productions as their drearily monochromatic Don Giovanni. And it will probably play terrifically in its Feb. 16 broadcast as part of the increasingly popular Live in HD series, shown in movie theaters around the world.

Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center. 212-362-6000. www.metopera.org. Through May 1.

For better or worse—depending upon your predilection--the Metropolitan Opera’s The Enchanted Island is the operatic equivalent of a juke box musical. This Baroque pastiche devised and written by Jeremy Sams uses the music of such composers as Handel, Vivaldi, Rameau, Purcell and a few lesser known luminaries to accompany a story that’s a mash-up of Shakespeare’s The Tempest and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Adding to the gala atmosphere of this production which appropriately premiered on New Year’s Eve, an all-star cast of singers has been assembled, including the great countertenor David Daniels as Prospero; Joyce DiDonato as the sorceress Sycorax (a character only mentioned in Shakespeare’s play); Danielle de Niese as Ariel; and no less than Placido Domingo as the god Neptune. Add to that Baroque master conductor William Christie in the pit and a spectacular production staged and designed by Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch and you have a special event indeed.

Which is not to say that it is entirely successful--the appropriate elements have effectively been put into place, but to what end, exactly? Certainly, the storyline, even as swirled together as it is, is groaningly familiar, and the world has not exactly crying out for yet another Shakespeare adaptation. The music is indeed gorgeous, but--considering that Peter Gelb, the Met’s general manager, has been quoted as saying that he wanted to “play the Baroque card” but in a more streamlined fashion for modern attention spans--there’s far too much of it. Running three-and-a-half often lugubrious hours, this effort taxes the patience in a way that many original works from the period do not.

Still, there’s no denying the effort, ingenuity and imagination with which this concoction has been devised. Sams’ English-language libretto often displays great cleverness in its use of familiar melodies with freshly written words, and the selection of arias, apparently by Christie, should please both aficionados and relative newcomers to the genre.

While the silly storyline lacks any emotional heft whatsoever, it does have its amusing moments, such as the appearances by the old and cranky Neptune, wonderfully played by Domingo.

It’s the stagecraft that truly elevates the proceedings. Combining vintage 18th century techniques with state-of-the-art projections and animation, it displays a wit and imagination that makes the company’s behemoth productions of the Ring cycle seem hopelessly leaden. And these effects actually work.

Needless to say, with this stellar cast there is no shortage of great singing. Besides the aforementioned singers, there are superb contributions by Luca Pisaroni, looking like he just stepped out of Beauty and the Beast, as Caliban; Lisette Oropesa, charming and vocally crystalline as Miranda; and another terrific countertenor, Anthony Roth Costanzo, as Ferdinand.

For those unable to get to the Met, or afford those high ticket prices, be advised that The Enchanted Island will be broadcast in movie theaters nationwide Jan. 21 as part of The Met: Live in HD series.

Metropolitan Opera, Lincoln Center. 212-362-6000. www.metopera.org.

It’s easy to imagine that the Metropolitan Opera has by now adopted a “damned if we do, damned if we don’t” mentality. If they attempt to give operatic masterpieces a fresh, updated spin—ala Luc Bondy’s controversial production of Tosca a couple of seasons back--they run the risk of having the results loudly booed and denigrated. On the other hand, if they present a warhorse in a staid, traditional production, they’re criticized for not taking artistic chances.

Such is the case with the recently opened revival of Mozart’s Don Giovanni. The project certainly seemed promising on paper: per Peter Gelb’s recent leanings, a notable theater director—in this case Michael Grandage, the former artistic director of London’s Donmar Warehouse—was given his Met debut. And the much lauded Polish baritone Mariusz Kwiecien was slated for the title role.

Alas, the stars were not in alignment. Grandage--who in recent years has brought such exciting theatrical productions as Frost/Nixon, Hamlet and Red to New York--seems to have fallen asleep at the switch, delivering a visually drab staging largely devoid of excitement. And Kwiecien seriously injured his back during a dress rehearsal, resulting in a heroic, last-minute substitution by Peter Mattei.

Considering that he had barely two days to prepare, Mattei acquits himself nicely (Kwiecien is scheduled to return to the role on Oct. 25). The hulking Swedish singer certainly looks the part, providing an imposing physical presence to go along with his powerful vocalizing.

He’s well supported by several of the other singers, particularly Luca Pisaroni, as dramatically convincing as he is vocally supple in the role of the put-upon servant Leporello; Ramon Vargas, who earned sustained applause for both of his gorgeous arias; and Barbara Frittoli, deeply moving as the tragic Donna Elvira.

Grandage doesn’t seem to have given any particular thought to the staging, which mainly has the singers declaiming directly to the audience in near concert fashion. There is the occasional imaginative theatrical touch, such as the flames that shoot out as Giovanni descends into hell, but it’s too little, too late. Not helping matters are the monochromatic sets and costumes designed by Christopher Oram, with the former consisting largely of massive walls lined with balconies and doors.

Musically, the evening hews to the Met’s traditional high standards, with conductor Fabio Luisi drawing a superb performance from the orchestra. He also manages the pretty neat trick of accompanying the recitatives himself, on the harpsichord.

Metropolitan Opera, Lincoln Center. 212-362-6000. www.metopera.org.

It’s the moment everyone’s been waiting for. The ride of the Valkyries, featuring that immortal Wagner music that got seared into moviegoers’ memories thanks to Apocalypse Now. And in the Metropolitan Opera’s new production of Die Walküre, the scene doesn’t disappoint.

Director Robert Lepage has the eight warrior sisters of Brunnhilde strapped to the movable planks of his massive set as if they were riding horses and galloping toward the audience. It’s a visually exhilarating sequence that spectacularly complements the stirring music.

Not everything works quite as well in this second installment of the Met’s ambitious new Ring cycle. Despite the ever malleable set and the series of projections that convey everything from a bleak forest to a ring of fire, the evening often suffers from a static visual quality. But the brilliance of the music and performances more than compensates.

James Levine conducts the five hour-plus evening in thrilling fashion, skillfully handling the score’s intense demands in a manner that is all the more impressive considering his recent health problems. And a truly stellar cast has been assembled, all of them in top form.

Bryn Terfel, thankfully shorn of the silly haircut he sported in Das Rheingold, is a physically and vocally commanding Wotan, easily convincing us of his godliness, while Stephanie Blythe’s formidable Fricka is more than his match. As the rebellious warrior daughter Brunnhilde, Deborah Voigt delivers an outstanding performance, nailing her character’s classic high-C battle cries of “Hojotoho!” with stunning ease and dexterity. German tenor Jonas Kaufman and Eva-Marie Westbrook are deeply moving as the lovestruck siblings Siegmund and Sieglinde, with the former providing matinee idol handsomeness to go along with his powerhouse singing.

The astute casting of these and several other minor roles demonstrates the Met’s ability to deliver singers who not only well fulfill the physical demands of their characters but are also atypically persuasive in terms of their acting. The stellar ensemble also provides estimable marquee value, not that it was needed for this immediately sold-out run.

Metropolitan Opera, Lincoln Center. 212-362-6000. www.metopera.org.

Most contemporary operas come and go while leaving nary a trace in the cultural zeitgeist. A rare exception is John Adams’ Nixon in China, which is finally making its debut at the Metropolitan Opera a mere 24 years after its world premiere.

The original creative team has largely reassembled for the auspicious occasion. Composer Adams will be conducting at all performances; director Peter Sellars has provided a virtual repeat of his acclaimed staging; and set designer Adrianne Lobel, costume designer Dunya Ramicova, lighting designer James F. Ingalls and choreographer Mark Morris are once again on board. The production even features the original star, baritone James Maddalena, who has nicely aged into his role as Nixon.

Unfortunately, the undeniably striking revival doesn’t provide further evidence that the opera is a modern masterpiece. Adams’ largely minimalist score has its stirring moments, but it is also endlessly repetitive. And Alice Goodman’s libretto concerning the history-making trip made by the stalwart cold warrior to the Communist country is a bit of a mess, veering wildly from realism to subtle satire to bizarre flights of absurdism.

The opening scene certainly remains stirring, featuring a massive reproduction of Air Force One landing in Peking and being greeted by Chinese premier Chou En-lai (Russell Braun) and a coterie of officials while the orchestra provides suitably bombastic fanfares.

As befitting the largely ceremonial events being depicts, there is little here in the way of plot. Nixon meets the now infirm Chairman Mao (Robert Brubaker), who proceeds to deliver a series of baffling pronouncements that leave his guests befuddled. A celebratory dinner follows, complete with laudatory toasts. And the president and his wife attend a performance of a revolutionary ballet created by Mao’s wife, Chiang Ch’ing (Kathleen Kim), the plot of which so upsets the couple that they insert themselves into the action.

When all the pomp and circumstance is concluded, the pivotal figures retreat to their bedrooms, where they ponder the significance of what they have accomplished? “Have we done anything that was good?” movingly sings Chou.

The piece is most affecting in its quieter moments, such as Pat Nixon’s quiet aria in which she sings about the path in life she has taken. With the exception of Henry Kissinger (Richard Paul Fink), who is reduced to something of a caricature (he even shows up as a villain in the ballet), the characters are depicted with surprisingly dignity.

Despite the fact that the singers are amplified, the vocals are frequently buried by the orchestra’s volume, with Maddalena in particular frequently having trouble making himself heard above the general din.

For all its flaws, Nixon in China is a work that deserves a place in the operatic repertory, especially since it is the rare example of one dealing with relatively current events. Those unable to procure tickets for one of the Met performances will have the opportunity to see the Feb. 12 matinee being simulcast in movie theaters worldwide as part of The Met: Live in HD series. It is also scheduled to be broadcast on PBS stations later this year.

Metropolitan Opera, Lincoln Center. 212-362-6000. www.metopera.org.