Two nights ago, the Metropolitan Opera staged a rarity. How rare? The last time the Met had staged this work was in 1917 — the year America entered the Great War. The work in question is “Iphigénie en Tauride,” by Gluck. The composer’s full name is Christoph Willibald von Gluck — a name that certain radio announcers rejoice in pronouncing. And starring in the Met’s new production are Susan Graham, the mezzo-soprano from Midland, Texas, and Plácido Domingo, tenor to the world.

“Iphigénie en Tauride” — or “Iphigenia in Tauris” — is a late Gluck opus, composed in 1778. It does not have widely recognized hits, as some other Gluck operas do: “Orfeo ed Euridice” has “Che farò”; “Alceste” has “Divinités du Styx” (made famous by Callas). Instead, “Iphigénie” has a string of should-be hits: arias, duets, choruses. It is a truly inspired work.

The story is Greek, based on a Euripides play. There are gods and goddesses, human sacrifice and human rescue, savagery and tenderness. We encounter Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, and others familiar from Strauss’s shocking masterpiece of 1908, “Elektra.” And “Iphigénie” has what might not be expected: a happy ending.

The Met’s new production — actually a co-production with the Seattle Opera — is directed by Stephen Wadsworth (who three seasons ago did Handel’s “Rodelinda” for the Met). You want lyric theater? This “Iphigénie” represents lyric theater. Music, text, drama, and other things are all “integrated,” as they say. The atmosphere is spooky and magical, gritty and wild. Also, the production conveys a grandeur — and, indeed, on this stage, “Iphigénie” looks almost like grand opera.

Mr. Wadsworth and his team are to be congratulated for not going small-scale. They have taken advantage of the Met’s resources, or, put another way: They have not de-Met-ified the Met, as some producers have tried to do.

Note, too, that dancing is skillfully incorporated. There is plenty of it, and it is excellent: Daniel Pelzig’s choreography manages to be formal yet not polite.

The big story of this show is the woman in the title role: Ms. Graham, who on Tuesday night was superb. She was solid from beginning to end, staying true to the line (the musical line). She was regal, but not without bite and various colors. She can make her voice thin or thick — depending on the requirements of the music. And she loves the French language. Always, she sang with understanding, but was not text-bound — which is to say, overly text-bound. She knows that her primary task is to sing.

In a career that is lengthening, she has been a top-notch Cherubino, a top-notch Octavian (and a wonderful recitalist). And she has made Iphigénie her own. The role is a tour de force for her, and she is a tour de force for it.

Plácido Domingo? To put it most succinctly, he sounded like Plácido Domingo. For maybe 15 years now, I have referred to him as “the ageless Spaniard,” and there is no cause to stop now. As Oreste — yet another new role for him — he was virile and plush. What a surprise. You could have objected to some things, but these were things that Mr. Domingo has always done: For example, hetendstoswoonaround vocally, instead of traveling cleanly from note to note. But so what? This is Mr. Domingo, and on Tuesday night he did plenty of clean singing, too. In fact, mainly clean singing.

Besides which, that intangible quality we tend to call “stage presence” is hard to beat.

Mr. Domingo’s tenor partner-in -crime — actually, partner-in -heroism — was Paul Groves, as Pylade. He, too, sounded like himself: fresh, lovely, and gleaming. Mr. Groves did no pinching whatsoever up top. And, commendably, he was willing at times to sing unpretty — when the part demanded it.

Portraying King Thoas was a British baritone, William Shimell. He looked and acted the part — harried and befuddled; fit and straight-backed. (Or should kings be fat?) As a singer, he had a so-so night: a little worn, unfocused, approximate. But this hardly detracted from the proceedings. Descending as Diana from on high — literally — was Michèle Losier, a Canadian mezzo. (Or is she a soprano? She is listed both ways, and may be a tweener.) Ms. Losier looked great — bare-armed and buff — and sang okay.

And making an impression in a very small role, the First Priestess, was Lisette Oropesa, a young American soprano. She has many
gifts, including a striking instrument and a sense of music. She showed this as Susanna, in the Met’s “Marriage of Figaro,” earlier this season, and she showed it again in even her few lines on Tuesday night.

Before leaving singers, I should not forget the chorus, which did outstandingly well. One of Gluck’s women’s choruses, in particular, was almost unbelievably beautiful.

And far from unimportant was the conductor in the pit. He was Louis Langrée, making his Metropolitan Opera debut. New Yorkers know him through his leadership of August’s Mostly Mozart Festival at Lincoln Center. And, in “Iphigénie,” he was the conductor we have come to expect: well-prepared, intelligent, and stylish — very stylish. He was elegant in this music, but also rough, where appropriate — or, if not rough, earthy. Yet even in his earthiness he retained some of his French elegance.

From first note to last, Mr. Langrée conducted with intensity — unflagging. That said, he was sure to let the score breathe. It would be hard to imagine it better shaped. Mr. Langrée’s “Iphigénie” was neither overly spare nor overly rich; neither overly tight nor overly relaxed. It was simply right. And the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra responded to its guest laudably.

What we have here is a rarity that should be familiar, sung by first-rate singers, led by a worthy conductor, making use of a first-rate orchestra, in an interesting and effective production. Catch it if you can.