Handel’s “Giulio Cesare,” or “Julius Caesar,” is now playing at the Metropolitan Opera. And I like to describe it as a three-hour series of highlights. Handel gives you one hit after another, one immortal aria or duet after another. The inspiration never quits. In this, the opera is not unlike “Messiah.” “Julius Caesar” is one of the most awesome bursts of creativity in music.

The opera was last performed at the Met in the 1999–2000 season. In the role of Cornelia was the mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe, and in the role of Sesto was the countertenor David Daniels. John Nelson was in the pit. And I will never forget the duet “Son nata a lagrimar” (which ends Act I). It was maybe the most electric moment I have ever experienced in an opera house. Some others feel the same way, too.

And remember that this took place in the bad old days, under the “Old Met,” when nothing exciting or unusual occurred. That is the line in some quarters today. And if you buy it, there’s this bridge near City Hall …

Currently, David Daniels is not Sesto but Julius Caesar himself. And on Friday night, he was not in good form — at least not initially. He sounded muted and maybe a little sick. He was not as crisp in his passagework as he usually is. But he is still a smart and effective singer, no matter what his condition, and he improved as the night went on. He gave the audience some exquisite, Danielsesque singing.

Taking Cornelia was, not Ms. Blythe, but Patricia Bardon, the Irish mezzo. She owns a beautiful, warm, fairly lush instrument. This is buttressed by a solid technique, and accompanied by musical understanding. What more is there? Ms. Bardon was a pleasure to hear, whenever she opened her mouth.

An English mezzo, Alice Coote, was Sesto, and she is not dissimilar to Ms. Bardon: dependable in all the important ways. But one could have asked for a dollop more power, especially in the aria “Svegliatevi nel core.” It could be, however, that more potent mezzos such as Ms. Blythe and Marilyn Horne have spoiled us in Handel.

And how did “Son nata a lagrimar” go? Ms. Barton and Ms. Coote sang it beautifully and affectingly, with model technical control.

David Daniels was not the only high male voice on that stage. The countertenor Lawrence Zazzo sang Tolomeo, and the male soprano Michael Maniaci sang Nireno. Mr. Zazzo showed lots of spirit, and some vocal pizzazz. But his low notes were peculiar — not matching the rest of his voice, seeming to come from another voice altogether. Mr. Maniaci made a pleasing sound, although it was occasionally a bit breathy. And he suffered some bad intonation.

A bass-baritone got into the act, too, and that was Wayne Tigges, singing Achilla. He performed with welcome heart.

And I have not yet mentioned the Cleopatra in this show — Ruth Ann Swenson, the American soprano. She has been in the news lately, for a couple of reasons. First, she is recovering from cancer. And second, she went public with a lamentation about the “New Met”: They are apparently dumping her. This is discouraging, given that Ms. Swenson is one of the best lyric or coloratura sopranos we have. You cannot hope to hear a better Adina (in Donizetti’s “Elixir of Love”) than she delivered last season.

She sang quite well on Friday night, offering her usual beauty, refinement, and charm. Perhaps above all, she sang with class — Handel’s Cleopatra has it, and so does Ms. Swenson. Some impurities crept in, and intonation was a problem in “V’adoro pupille.” But overall Ms. Swenson was her exemplary self.

And she acted winningly, more than filling the bill. A charge against Ms. Swenson, it seems, is that she is no actress. I myself have never seen her less than satisfactory: as Lucia, as Violetta, and so on. Besides which, opera is primarily a musical endeavor. If you want acting, there are plenty of theaters in this town. You can visit Broadway and see Vanessa Redgrave right now. But if you want singing …

Last fall, the “New Met” had a pretty little soprano in the title role of “Madama Butterfly.” She acted up a storm. Unfortunately, Butterfly must sing.

Conducting “Julius Caesar” was Harry Bickett, the English specialist in the Baroque. At times he conducted like such a specialist: academically, dryly, not so musically. The opening in particular was a letdown — hardly a stage-setter for this brilliant and stirring work. And the orchestra sometimes played mechanically. But at other times the orchestra played beautifully, even enchantingly, and Mr. Bickett rose to the occasion.

I might single out “Va tacito e nascosto” (one of Caesar’s arias). The orchestra was amazingly precise, and the horn solo was absolutely first-rate.

And the production? It is John Copley’s from 1988, and it is majestic, beautiful, ever-interesting — rather like “Julius Caesar.” The production simply accords with the opera — with the score and the libretto. Which is such an old-fashioned notion, it is practically antique. Stupid “Old Met” — thinking that a production had to fit with the opera.

Until April 27 (Lincoln Center, 212-721-6500).