Marcelo Alvarez, centre, performs as Caravadossi alongside Karita Mattila, right, singing the title role and George Gagnidze, left, as Scarpia during the final dress rehearsal of Giacomo Puccini's Tosca on Sept. 17, 2009, at the Metropolitan Opera in New York. (Mary Altaffer/Associated Press)When was there last an opening night quite like this at the staid old Metropolitan Opera?

It had just about everything: a new production of a beloved work, Puccini's Tosca; a starry cast; music director James Levine in the pit — and from the audience, the loudest and most sustained booing in memory.

The justified anger of so many of the 3,800 fans at Monday night's gala was directed not at the singers or conductor but squarely at Swiss director Luc Bondy and his production team. Their appearance on stage at the end turned what had been a standing ovation for the cast into a raucous protest, prompting the management to bring down the curtain.

That was a shame, because there was more cheering to be done for the three principals — soprano Karita Mattila, tenor Marcelo Alvarez and baritone George Gagnidze.

Tosca, first performed in 1900, takes place a century before that in Rome during the Napoleonic Wars. In three short acts set in a church, a palace and a prison, it tells the tale of singer Floria Tosca, her lover, painter Mario Cavaradossi, and Baron Scarpia, chief of the secret police — none of whom survives to the final curtain.

New version replaces lush Zeffirelli production

Marcelo Alvarez performs as Caravadossi during the final dress rehearsal of Giacomo Puccini's Tosca, Sept. 17, 2009, at the Metropolitan Opera in New York. (Mary Altaffer/Associated Press)Bondy, making his Met debut, had an unenviable task replacing the sumptuous, highly detailed Franco Zeffirelli production that had been a mainstay of the house since 1985. Desperately trying to bring a fresh look to the piece, he turns his back on tradition with a vengeance, starting with Richard Peduzzi's sets.

The church in Act 1 is virtually devoid of religious trappings, and its looming arched brick walls make it look more like a prison than a place of worship. Folding wooden chairs and a metal ladder add anachronistic touches.

Scarpia's apartment in Act 2 is sparsely furnished with a small table and chairs and two garish red sofas. Act 3 is the most realistic, a bare rooftop where soldiers rehearse the firing squad while Cavaradossi sleeps on a pallet near the front of the stage.

Odd though the sets may be, far worse is Bondy's mishandling of the action at key moments. In most productions, Tosca attacks Scarpia with a knife as he approaches to embrace her. Bondy instead has Mattila recline awkwardly on one of the sofas, hiding the weapon in the cushions. When Gagnidze lunges at her, she apparently stabs him, but it's impossible for the audience to see the action clearly.

Excellent singing nearly lost amid misdeeds

Almost lost in the directorial misdeeds is some excellent singing, starting with Alvarez, who was an ideal Cavaradossi, muscular and refined. Stepping in with just a week's notice after Finnish baritone Juha Uusitalo cancelled, Gagnidze did more than hold his own.

Finally, there's Mattila, one of the most prominent sopranos at the Met for more than a decade, singing this touchstone role for the first time outside her native Finland. Some will complain that her cool Nordic sound is at odds with the warm, impassioned phrasing the role demands. But she threw herself into the part and came close to making it her own, spinning out a finely shaped lyrical line.

The Met orchestra played magnificently under Levine's direction, savouring Puccini's rapturous melodies and rising to the climactic moments with thrilling power.

The production is scheduled for seven more performances this fall and then returns with some cast changes for eight more outings in the spring. Other new productions over the years have been greeted with boos, but rarely if ever has a Met opening night performance received such a hostile reaction.