Following the success of Der Rosenkavalier, composer Richard Strauss teamed up again with Hugo von Hofmannsthal, the great modernist playwright and critic, for an intriguing blend of Greek Myth and commedia dell’arte. The result of this collaboration, the third of six between composer and librettist, was Ariadne auf Naxos. Inspired, in part, by Molière’s Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme and the Greek legend of Ariadne, the opera refers back to Strauss’ earlier Elektra with its interest in classical material, while pointing the way towards his final opera Capriccio with its meta-theatrical spin on operatic themes and conventions. Along with Der Rosenkavalier and Salomé, it is one of the most beloved and oft staged of Strauss’ works.

Ariadne’s perennial appeal and allure was much in evidence Tuesday night at the Metropolitan Opera, during the final performance of the revival of Elijah Moshinsky’s dazzling production. Ariadne consists of a prologue and one act. The prologue opens on a dinner party given by the richest man in Vienna. Singers, dancers and musicians have been hired to provide the evening’s entertainment, which we learn consists of the premiere of a serious dramatic once-act opera, the work of a young, temperamental composer, followed by a light commedia dell-arte act. The host insists that both productions end promptly by 9pm for a firework display. When dinner lasts longer than anticipated, the host changes his mind and instead orders the two performances to occur simultaneously. Despite protestations on the part of the composer, the necessary last-minute alterations are made.

The second act is the performance of the one-act opera Ariande auf Naxos with the addition of clowning and buffoonery courtesy of the comedians. As the forlorn Ariande sings of her abandonment on the island of Naxos, the comedians chime in inappropriately with words of support and good cheer. The head of the troupe, the singer/dancer Zerbinetta makes light of Ariande’s plight, singing of the fickleness of the human heart and foreshadowing the titular character’s subsequent good fortune. Bacchus arrives on Naxos and Ariadne, mistaking him for Hermes, hopes for death’s release. Instead, they fall passionately for each other. Through the power of love, Ariadne is transfigured and she joins Bacchus up to his heavenly abode. As one might gather, Ariadne is not an opera to be viewed or heard for its plot. Rather, its most intriguing feature, the complex texture of a mellifluous and lyrical score, is brought out chiefly by the rich variety of characters who people the opera. The superb work of an impressive cast brought these characters vividly to life. Although limited to the prologue, the composer is among one of Strauss’ most ardent and tempestuous creations. Inhabiting the role was the veteran Strauss mezzo Susan Graham. She exhibited the same vocal acuity and theatrical exuberance that she brought to her portrayal of Octavian in last season’s production of Rosenkavalier. As the music master, whose role is likewise limited to the prologue, the British baritone Thomas Allen delivered a calm and forceful interpretation. As for the opera-within-the-opera, Jon Villars made an impressive debut as the onstage/offstage Bacchus. He was suitably bold, singing with deep earthy coloring during the bulk of his performance in the final scene. That said, his voice seems to practically erupt, at times, into shouting that suffered, it must be admitted, from too much of a quiver. As the Prima Donna who assumes the part of Ariande, the Lithuanian soprano Violeta Urmana delivered remarkably. Her voice rang out crystal clear and she navigated the roller coaster of Strauss’ vocal writing with dexterity and ease, resulting in a performance that was close to perfect. Only occasionally did her high notes fall a bit flat, and her voice wore a bit thin. The evening’s most wondrous surprise, however, was the company debut of Diana Damrau, as the giddy and coquettish Zerbinetta. Hers is a particularly delicious role as it presents the singer the opportunity to express a wide range of emotions and dramatic sensibilities, from irony to satire to slapstick to honesty. Whatever card she played, her singing was strong, forceful and assured, equally capable of Wagnerian lyricism or Mozartian vocalization (Konstanze in Entführung aus dem Serail is another role in her repertory). At the performance I attended, she nearly stole the show for a deliriously fun and exhausting scene wherein she cavorts around with the company’s harlequin, for which she received a five-minute ovation mid-performance. In the pit, Kirill Petrenko, the audacious and exciting music director of Berlin’s Komische Oper led the significantly reduced orchestra – 37 members only - in a clear and balanced performance.