On Friday evening, the well-to-do gathered yet again to sit comfortably in the velvety upholstery of the Metropolitan Opera seats, marvel at the chandelier being raised, and observe a story about bohemians in 1840s Paris trying to eat and pay their landlord. Opera culture being what it is, some air of believability is always lost on La Boheme, Puccini’s work of hard-luck artists trying to subsist on Christmas Eve. At least the nippy evening temperatures last week helped in that regard.

Unfortunately, the lead singers this time around failed to create on-stage chemistry, making the whole opera seem a little sillier than it already is. Ruth Ann Swenson’s Mimi was decidedly not vulnerable, Marcelo Alvarez portrayed Rodolfo stiffly, and the initial interactions between the two in Rodolfo’s bachelor garret were completely unconvincing.

From a vocal standpoint, they got off to a capable if unpersuasive start in that gorgeous, extended scene in the first act. Ms. Swenson did a fair amount of unintentional swooping-into-pitch, and Mr. Alvarez, while ringing his high notes, came off slightly unfocused. A sympathetic and dramaturgically plausible explanation might be that they, too, were warming up from the cold.

As Mimi’s health deteriorated, however, Ms. Swenson seemed to rally. By the third act, her voice emerged smoothly, fully, and with tremendous resonance and evenness. Mr. Alvarez tapped into a more confident emotional palette. While their acting chops remained rudimentary, the singing from both was able to overcome such tertiary inconveniences.

The most consistently enjoyable performance of the evening came from the young Swedish baritone Peter Mattei, who delved into his lines with equal parts ardency, sympathy, and – when required – jealousy. Patrick Carfizzi was a committed Schaunard, and Evgenij Nakitin summoned vocal compassion for his overcoat in Act 4. Ainhoa Arteta, as Musetta, possessed an intriguing, grainy, vocal timbre, and certainly hammed it up as Marcelo’s annoyingly narcissistic interest. Her “Quando me’n vo,” taken at a granitic tempo, completely lost any association with the dance. It is, after all, called “Musetta’s Waltz.”

Slowing down, in fact, became the musical affect of the whole evening. While it’s the nature of the style to indulge in extensive rubato, one must give back what one takes. Unfortunately, despite conductor Daniel Oren’s best efforts to zip things along in the instrumental sections, the singers insisted on backtracking.

Franco Zeffirelli’s well-known and worn production still gets the job done in its indulgent, stylized way. The Cafe Momus act, with what looks like a couple hundred people on stage, conveys well the pageantry of Paris street life. The Barriere d’Enfer in Act 3 looks sufficiently bleak and ominous.

“Boheme’s” popularity can be attributed to many factors. Puccini’s melodic gifts and lush orchestration are the most obvious; for opera companies, it’s an easy piece in which to part-swap. Performances later on in the season offer some intriguing substitutions, including Musettas from Patricia Racette and the soprano of the moment, Anna Netrebko.