NEW YORK » The opening of Metropolitan Opera’s new production of Tchaikovsky’s "Iolanta" — receiving its first performance at the house — and Bartok’s "Bluebeard’s Castle," was delayed a few days due to a blizzard warning — it opened on Jan. 29. The delay may have undermined the energy and focus of the performance, including the work of the conductor Valery Gergiev, who had spent the previous two nights at Carnegie Hall leading demanding programs with the Mariinsky Orchestra.

Things seemed a little off and tentative at times. This was unfortunate, because many elements of the production by the Polish director Mariusz Trelinski, in his Met debut, were compelling. The performances were close to being outstanding, especially the charismatic Russian soprano Anna Netrebko in the title role of "Iolanta," a blind young princess, and the alluring German soprano Nadja Michael as Judith, the wife of the depressed, secretive Bluebeard.

"Iolanta," Tchaikovsky’s final opera, is a seemingly innocent fairy tale about a winsome princess, born blind. Her fiercely protective father, King Reni, arranges for Iolanta to be raised in a secluded garden attended by loving servants who never let on that there is such a thing as sight. Iolanta’s blindness is cured by the treatments of a Moorish physician, abetted by the healing love of an honorable knight.

Bartok’s "Bluebeard’s Castle," performed here in the original Hungarian, is a disturbing psychological thriller about a woman drawn to the fearsome Bluebeard’s brooding nature and neediness, this despite the rumors that he may have murdered his previous wives. Judith is convinced that her love can bring light to Bluebeard’s dark life. Yet this surreal tale ends chillingly.

For Trelinski both operas depict controlling relationships and both deal with a yearning to see deeply into others.

Still, in making these very different pieces complementary, Trelinski forces them into a thematic relationship that feels strained, especially regarding "Iolanta." The stage directions in the libretto describe the setting as a beautiful, lush garden with blooming rose bushes and fruit trees. Trelinski opts for haunting metaphorical imagery.

Netrebko’s Iolanta rests in a modest white-paneled bedroom with mounted deer heads on the back wall. The room is surrounded by mysterious floating trees. The videos show ominous encroaching branches and strange images of gigantic deer.

Still, as a metaphor it works. After all, the premise of the opera is cruel. Is Iolanta’s father making her live in seclusion and ignorance to protect her? Or does he feel guilty about having a blind daughter? Or even ashamed?

It is touching to see the fiery Netrebko trying earnestly to convey how a young blind woman would act and feel. Tchaikovsky’s music for Iolanta is wistful, tremulous and full of yearning, qualities Netrebko communicates through her bittersweet singing. Yet flashes of vocal intensity, a Netrebko hallmark, come through when Iolanta tells of her increasing confusion.

The Moorish doctor (Elchin Azizov, a sturdy baritone in his Met debut) soon arrives with King Reni (the mellow bass Ilya Bannik in another Met debut). The doctor might be able to cure Iolanta, he says, but only if she is made aware of her condition. She must want to see.

The virile, impressive baritone Aleksei Markov makes a dashing Duke Robert, who as a child was entered into an arranged engagement with Iolanta but now loves a young countess. His companion, Vaudimont, the knight, falls in love with Iolanta just by observing her angelic grace and glowing warmth. Vaudimont is a good role for the exciting tenor Piotr Beczala. The most impetuous moments of the performance came during Beczala’s passionate exchanges with Netrebko.

Gergiev drew dark, melting sound from the Met Orchestra. Yet there were some draggy passages and lyrical lines that lost shape and continuity.

Bartok’s "Bluebeard’s Castle," first performed in 1918, is a work of such symbolism and ambiguity that almost anything goes in a production. Arriving at her new husband’s creepy castle, Judith becomes fixated on seven locked doors. She finally compels Bluebeard to give her the keys. A man in turmoil, he wants to shut her out of his inner life yet seems desperate to pull her in. The doors open upon fantastical, horrific scenes, including a torture chamber, an armory of weapons, a horde of bloodied jewels. One door opens upon a vast sea of tears.

The production comes up with some engrossing video imagery and stage effects to realize the descriptions in the libretto.

Michael brings a strong, bright voice and visceral intensity to Judith. The bass Mikhail Petrenko, though vocally underpowered on this night, has a grainy, villainous sound and mostly captures Bluebeard’s twisted malevolence.

There were overwhelming passages in Gergiev’s account of this astonishing Bartok score, with its Expressionist angst and Debussy-like lushness. He brought out rustic, folkloric elements in the music that seemed fresh. But again, certain passages went limp and sustained sonorities sometimes were inert.

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