Massenet’s “Manon” clings to a place in the standard repertory, though just barely. It is a popular but problematic work. The title role of an alluring French girl from a small town with a fatal attraction to riches and pleasures has long been an irresistible vehicle for a star soprano.


The great and glamorous Anna Netrebko makes Manon her own in the inconsistently effective new production that opened at the Metropolitan Opera on Monday night, directed by Laurent Pelly and conducted by Fabio Luisi. Ms. Netrebko, who opened the Met’s season starring in a new production of Donizetti’s “Anna Bolena,” may not have the light lyric coloratura voice of some classic Manons, and her singing was not flawless. But with her rich, gleaming sound and vocal charisma, she was a Manon of rare intensity and emotional depth.


Manon is the only character fully fleshed out in an opera that abounds in stylistic contradictions. The 1731 Prévost novel that serves as its source tells the story of Manon against the backdrop of a corrupt French society at the start of the 18th century. Massenet and his librettists softened the bleakness, jiggered the story and tailored the work to the tastes of opéra-comique audiences in Paris for the 1884 premiere. The result includes a ballet divertissement, two bustling outdoor scenes, a tense gambling episode and a church scene with austere organ music and offstage angelic choirs.


One choice for a director is just to go with the stylistic contradictions. But Mr. Pelly, whom Met audiences know from his amusing production of Donizetti’s comedy “La Fille du Régiment,” tries to bridge them and, through the stark, grim look of the staging, drive home the seedy underside of Manon’s fall.


At least that is what he seems to be doing in this often baffling production. There is an intended contrast throughout between the vivid colors and modern touches of the vaguely Victorian costumes, designed by Mr. Pelly, and Chantal Thomas’s rather abstract sets, with their askew floors and angles.


For example, in Act I we meet Guillot, an old nobleman (here the lively tenor Christophe Mortagne in his Met debut) and the prosperous de Brétigny (the solid bass-baritone Bradley Garvin), who arrive in the courtyard of an inn in Amiens, escorting three perky, loose-living young actresses. The courtyard is surrounded on three sides by tall, pale urban walls, and a stairway leads to an upper level, where the perspective is tweaked, with miniature houses and buildings to suggest distant streets.


Manon, we learn, is bound for a convent on the orders of her parents, who are alarmed by her fantasies of wealth and her shallowness. Ms. Netrebko looks wonderful as the gawky yet lovely teenage Manon, with her frumpy gray dress and coat. She recalls Leslie Caron as the young Gigi. And the tenor Piotr Beczala, in excellent voice, makes a dashing, earnest Chevalier des Grieux, the aimless young man who falls in love at first sight with the winsome Manon and persuades her to run off with him impulsively.


But as the story unfolds, Mr. Pelly’s production becomes heavy-handed. The first scene of Act III takes place during a public holiday on the promenade of the Cours-la-Reine in Paris. Yet here the action is set on a zigzagging ramp with metal railings: it looks like a wheelchair entrance to an elevated park. The throngs of tradesmen and pleasure seekers have to navigate the thing.


Manon, having abandoned des Grieux, arrives on the arm of de Brétigny, with whom she is now living, looking like Lillian Russell in a feathered hat and gown. But when Guillot presents a small ballet troupe for Manon’s amusement, the 16 dancers here have to maneuver around that twisting ramp. What’s the point? At the end, some of the leering gentlemen among the crowd fling these Degas ballerinas over their shoulders to carry them off.


Mr. Pelly goes for the obvious again in the next scene, in which Manon arrives at the chapel of the seminary of St. Sulpice in Paris. Having heard that des Grieux, heartbroken over her rejection, is joining the clergy, she rushes to the church to win him back. To the side of the church we incongruously see des Grieux’s small, metal-framed bed. As you might predict, Ms. Netrebko’s Manon works her will and leads the young man to the bed, where, at the climax of the seduction, she rips open his shirt and pulls him on top of her as the curtain falls.


The best parts of Massenet’s score are its inspired arias, especially for Manon. In places Ms. Netrebko’s low-range singing had an earthy, almost breathy quality that seemed Russian in character. But when she needed to, she sang melting phrases with silken legato and shimmering beauty, especially her poignant performance of “Adieu, notre petite table” in Act II. Though she does not have perfect coloratura technique, she ably dispatches the roulades and runs, folding them deftly into extended melodic phrases. And she can send top notes soaring.


The problem area of her singing these days is pitch. Her plush, throbbing sound has a focused vibrato, making even slight pitch deviations noticeable. Still, it is a small trade-off for such sumptuous singing.


Des Grieux is a good role for Mr. Beczala, whose ardent, virile voice sounded wonderful. His performance of the mellifluous aria “En fermant les yeux,” in which des Grieux relates his daydreams of their future wedded bliss, capped by exquisite high pianissimos, won the first extended ovation of the night.


The role of Lescaut cannot be that rewarding for a baritone, but Paulo Szot made the most of it. In the novel Lescaut is Manon’s brother, who, in effect, pimps her out to an older man. The opera turns him into Manon’s swashbuckling cousin, whose biggest flaw seems to be an addiction to gambling. Mr. Szot sings the role with robust sound and vitality. The bass-baritone David Pittsinger brings his strong, clear voice and authority to the Count des Grieux, the young des Grieux’s father.


Mr. Luisi conducts a stylish, crisp performance of the score, allowing singers ample time to linger over arias, yet keeping things lithe and moving. This “Manon” is a co-production with the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, where it opened in London in 2010 with Ms Netrebko. When the production team took bows in New York, the reaction was a mix of tepid applause, some isolated bravos and scattered boos. That seemed about right.