In the course of his brief years, Mozart wrote an opera called “The Abduction from the Seraglio” — a delightful thing. And it received a delightful performance at the Metropolitan Opera on Saturday night.

This is one of Mozart’s “Turkish” operas, and one of his “rescue” operas: European voyagers are captured by pirates and sold to the Pasha Selim; brave men attempt to rescue their fair maidens. This is also a “singspiel,” a German art form involving speech as well as singing. Mozart was to take this form to its greatest height in “The Magic Flute.”

“The Abduction” requires five singers, nearly all of whom have to show consummate skill. But the most important participant in this opera is the conductor. On him, almost everything hinges.

The Met has David Robertson, music director of the St. Louis Symphony and well-known to audiences in New York. He did his usual competent and committed job. But the second and third of Mozart’s three acts went far better than the first.

The overture is a tingling, wonderful piece, both anticipatory and preparatory. From Mr. Robertson, it was nimble and sensible, which is good. Yet it could have used more zing and purpose. And much of Act 1 lacked energy, tension, and cohesion. A dullness — or okayness — threatened the affair.

Yet Mr. Robertson grew in mastery and command as the opera wore on. There were coordination problems between the pit and stage, as in Osmin’s famous Act 3 aria. But these were not ruinous. The quartet at the end of Act 2 was splendid, and so was the chorus that concludes the opera. Hailing the orchestra and cast at the end of the evening, Mr. Robertson was full of enthusiasm and joy. He seems an exceptionally nice Joe.

I might mention that the Met is staging two Mozart operas in these final weeks of the season: The other is “La Clemenza di Tito.” The Met’s music director, James Levine, is conducting neither. This seems rather like having Shaquille O’Neal on your team and not starting him at center.

“The Abduction” is superbly cast — starting with Diana Damrau, the German coloratura soprano. As Konstanze, she was a marvel of flexibility, control, and musicality. She scarcely put a foot wrong. Her ability to modulate was uncanny. Her soft high singing rivaled Mme. Caballé’s. She was incisive at important points, never indifferent, rhythmically or otherwise. And German sounds fabulous in her mouth.

Her killer aria, “Martern aller Arten,” she killed. And she acted persuasively throughout this aria, when singing it is more than enough. Yet, for all her vocal fireworks, she was just as good in her role’s slow, songful stretches. She is simply one of the best singers in the world, and we should hear her every chance we get until she is through.

Matthew Polenzani, the American tenor, was Belmonte, and he was fresh, supple — Polenzani-like. His breathing was a model. He sang like a man who derives unusual pleasure from singing and knows how to do it. And let us hope that he refrains from pushing — he seemed tempted in moments on Saturday night.

Kristinn Sigmundsson, the bass from Iceland, had big shoes to fill — or rather, big slippers with long curly toes. He was Osmin, the pasha’s overseer. And this role was previously taken at the Met by Kurt Moll, the outstanding German bass. Mr. Moll was unforgettably good. And yet the Icelander held his own.

He sang darkly and accurately, and often exemplified elegant power. He also displayed a nice comic touch: He made an enjoyable drunk, for example. High notes were easy, and low notes a little less so. Passagework was neatly accomplished.

But may I say that Osmin ought to be a little fatter than Mr. Sigmundsson? Not to discriminate against the non-corpulent …

A surprise hit of the evening was Aleksandra Kurzak, the Polish soprano singing Blondchen. She was just right: spirited, compelling, and graceful. She showed an enormous vocal range, traveling from a low A flat — or G sharp, if you like — to a high E. She was ever a treat to watch and listen to. It should not have been easy, being a coloratura soprano onstage with Diana Damrau. Yet, for Ms. Kurzak, it was.

Blondchen’s boyfriend, Pedrillo, was Steve Davislim, an Australian tenor. He was capable, though his top at times lacked vibrancy. He was astute in his acting. And let it be known that he has a beautiful whistle.

Returning to the Met in the non-singing role of Selim, the pasha with a conscience, was Matthias von Stegmann. This German actor has had a multifarious career. I offer an amazing tidbit from his bio: “Since 2006 he has been solely responsible for the writing and directing of the German dialogue for ‘The Simpsons’ …”

The Met’s production is that of John Dexter from 1979. It is clean, brightly colored, and well suited. Our final look, which includes the ship that will whisk the captives to freedom, is wondrous. A thought occurred to me, however: The opera’s jokes about beheading and so on are not as funny as they used to be.