Two nights ago, the Metropolitan Opera revived Prokofiev’s “War and Peace,” and, this time, no one fell into the pit. When this production made its debut five years ago, a supernumerary — one of Napoleon’s soldiers — tumbled into the orchestra, or at least appeared to do so: He was saved by a net. Monday night, a cylindrical couch pillow rolled toward the pit. Like the soldier, it did not quite make it.

Prokofiev’s opera is epic, like the novel from which it springs. The score is vast, and, moreover, it contains a huge variety of music. That music is nervous, whimsical, and disquieting; jokey, folky, and rude; dancing, pompous, and majestic. It is many other things as well. And the conductor, Valery Gergiev, brought out all of these qualities. He brought them out in the right measures, too. Furthermore, this opera contains its share of bombast — and Mr. Gergiev worked to mitigate that.

He never succumbed to exaggeration, never made the music shout at you (unnecessarily). He let this opera unfold in a natural way. It is a long haul — nearly four hours — and pacing is critical. This, Mr. Gergiev handled with laudable wisdom. Neither the score nor the story ever sagged, always containing a tension.

Mr. Gergiev has given us many memorable nights at the Met, particularly in Russian opera. One thinks of a “Khovanshchina” (Mussorgsky) and of a “Mazeppa” (Tchaikovsky). For that matter, he was magnificent in “War and Peace,” in 2002. He has his off nights, sure, but — overall — he never lets up.

“War and Peace” has a cast of thousands, or at least hundreds. There are 68 separate solo roles, plus choristers, ballet dancers, armies, animals. Five years ago, the role of Natasha was sung by Anna Netrebko, now a superstar. It was then that some of us first heard her — causing us to say, “Wow, a superstar.”

This time around, Natasha was sung by another Russian soprano, Marina Poplavskaya, making her Met debut (as Ms. Netrebko did, in 2002). She was always competent, and, as the opera wore on, she grew more than competent: She was formidable. Ms. Poplavskaya is a smart singer, and a smart singing actress. As Natasha, she was appealingly girlish, then more womanly, as circumstances require the character to be.

Ms. Poplavskaya was ably partnered by the baritone Alexej Markov, who made his Met debut as Prince Andrei. At the outset, Mr. Markov sang handsomely, though his sound was somewhat closed. Later, that sound opened up, and he sang glowingly, compellingly. The final duet between Natasha and Andrei — a fine stretch of writing by Prokofiev — was very satisfying.

In the role of Bezukhov was an English tenor, Kim Begley. He was sometimes pinched and strained, but his fervor and honesty carried the day. Bezukhov is a good guy, and Mr. Begley showed him to be such. I might say that he looked a little like Franz Schubert, with that ample black hair and those specs. Portraying Prince Anatol was another tenor, Oleg Balashov. He sang eagerly, and with plenty of character. (Anatol’s is bad, of course.)

And who was Field Marshal Kutuzov? As in 2002, Samuel Ramey, the veteran American bass. With his eye-patch, he looked a bit like Wotan, dressed in a splendid Russian uniform. In his singing, he was tremulous, as we have come to expect. But he was also authoritative, noble, completely operatic — we’ve come to expect that, too. And this kid from Colby, Kan., was every inch a Russian general.

Napoleon was the baritone Vassily Gerello, and he was stalwart as that miserable little runt. The role of Prince Andrei’s father is very brief, like many others in this opera. But the bass Vladimir Ognovenko made an impression in it. His voice was big and wondrous, and he sort of frightened you with it. Just about everyone in this cast of thousands was appropriate. Take the gossiping biddies at the New Year’s Eve ball — completely authentic.

The Met Chorus performed yeoman service. And the Met Orchestra was tip-top. They seemed to do everything that Maestro Gergiev could have wanted. They made many beautiful sounds, and they made many rightly ugly ones — vulgar ones, snorting ones. That’s part of what Prokofiev ordered. The Met’s woodwinds, in particular, were outstanding, handling their solos with technical assurance and musicality.

And Andrei Konchalovsky’s production is one of the most effective weapons in the Met arsenal. As the opera is epic, and the novel is epic, so is the production. It has all the bells and whistles, but somehow it is not too gaudy or busy. At every turn, the production absorbs attention. We aren’t just listening to an opera, but watching a story. And those characters — those human beings, in those epic situations — are believable.

“War and Peace” is not a perfect opera. It has stretches of mediocre writing, and Prokofiev bows to the propagandistic. But it is a remarkable and admirable opera, a significant achievement from a great composer. The Metropolitan Opera has done it justice.