A new production at the Metropolitan Opera involves weeks of concentrated work, leading to a dress rehearsal and then, usually after a couple of days off, the opening night.  This past Monday, though, the opening of the Met’s new production of Tchaikovsky’s “Iolanta” — receiving its first performance at the house — and Bartok’s “Bluebeard’s Castle,” an unlikely and fascinating pairing of two one-act works, was canceled by the blizzard warning that virtually shuttered New York. Instead, this double bill opened Thursday, almost a week after the dress rehearsal. 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 of Russian works with the Mariinsky Orchestra.  Things seemed a little off and tentative at times. This was unfortunate, because many elements of the production by the innovative 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.  This production should take shape as the run continues. There is already much to savor and think about.  It took a leap of imagination for Mr. Trelinski, the artistic director of Teatr Wielki-Polish National Opera, and his dramaturge, Piotr Gruszczynski, to conceive this double bill, a co-production with the Met. “Iolanta,” Tchaikovsky’s final opera, is a seemingly innocent fairy tale about a winsome princess, born blind. Her fiercely protective father, King René, 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 Mr. Trelinski, as he explained recently, both operas depict controlling relationships. In one, an imperious father is convinced that he is protecting his daughter by keeping her unaware of her own condition; in the other, a woman abjectly loses herself through obsessive devotion to a troubled man. And both operas deal with a yearning to see deeply into others.  Still, in making these very different pieces complementary, Mr. 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. Mr. Trelinski — working with the set designer Boris Kudlicka, the costume designer Marek Adamski and the video projection designer Bartek Macias — opts for haunting metaphorical imagery. Ms. Netrebko’s Iolanta rests in a white-paneled bedroom, a modest dwelling with mounted deer heads on the back wall. The room, which spins around, is surrounded by mysterious floating trees, their tangled roots exposed. The videos show ominous encroaching branches and strange images of gigantic deer. A messenger from the king remarks that this garden is like a “paradise.” Not in this staging.  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 Ms. Netrebko, so riveting as Verdi’s Lady Macbeth at the start of the Met season, 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 Ms. Netrebko communicates through her bittersweet singing. Yet flashes of vocal intensity, a Netrebko hallmark, come through when Iolanta tells of her increasing confusion. Something does not feel right in her world. In one poignant passage, Iolanta wonders whether eyes are only for crying.  The Moorish doctor (Elchin Azizov, a sturdy baritone in his Met debut) soon arrives with King René (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, Vaudémont, the knight, falls in love with Iolanta just by observing her angelic grace and glowing warmth. Vaudémont is a good role for the exciting tenor Piotr Beczala. The most impetuous moments of the performance came during Mr. Beczala’s passionate exchanges with Ms. Netrebko.  Mr. Gergiev drew dark, melting sound from the Met Orchestra. Yet there were some draggy passages and lyrical lines that lost shape and continuity.  The cast may have been wary about potential protests breaking out in the house. As audience members arrived, demonstrators outside the Met denounced Mr. Gergiev and Ms. Netrebko as unapologetic allies of President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia, singling out his government’s anti-gay policies and military incursions into Ukraine. At the end of “Iolanta,” Ms. Netrebko was basking in an ovation when a man stepped onto the stage and unfurled a protest sign. He was taken to the wings and later arrested.  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 (dropped off in a car in this staging), Judith becomes fixated on seven locked doors. What is behind them? She pleads with and 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. The jewel closet is a luxurious bathroom, in which Ms. Michael’s Judith, near naked, sings while in a tub, leaning over the side, dangling a pearl necklace she suddenly notices is blood-tinged. And the sea of tears? It’s a white-tiled shower room with dripping, steamy walls.  Ms. 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 Mr. 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.  After “Bluebeard,” during the curtain calls, there were ushers at each side of the pit guarding the Met’s stage. This may become mandatory when these Russian artists perform there.  “Iolanta” and “Bluebeard’s Castle” continue through Feb. 21 at the Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center; 212-362-6000, metopera.org.  A version of this review appears in print on January 31, 2015, on page C1 of the New York edition with the headline: A Stage Awash in Tears and Blood. Order Reprints| Today's Paper|Subscribe
Delayed by a storm, new productions of “Bluebeard’s Castle” and “Iolanta” made their debut at the Metropolitan Opera, with Valery Gergiev conducting.