The night of Valentine’s Day, the Met didn’t offer a very valentiney opera: It offered “Nabucco,” Verdi’s early and great Biblical epic. Sure, there’s love in “Nabucco” – this is opera, after all, and life. But it ain’t “L’Elisir d’Amore.”

The Met has revived Elijah Moshinsky’s 2001 production, and it is magnificent – Cecil B. DeMille, with taste. (Did DeMille have taste? I don’t remember.) Critics may sneer at this production as “elephantine,” but, in reality, it is grand, as in “grand opera.” The Met exists, in large measure, to mount such productions.

Leading it all is music director James Levine. When he first entered the pit, the audience screamed “Bravo” at him, for a remarkably long time. They appreciate their conductor. In the overture, Mr. Levine showed his way with Verdi: He was crisp and no-nonsense, but also feeling. He always follows the musical thread. The overture was a perfect scene-setter for the opera (opera-setter?). When it was over, the audience screamed again.

Who is the most important singer and actor in this opera? You could argue, the chorus – and the Met has a very fine one. Indeed, it is under praised. I must remember to mention the name of chorus master Raymond Hughes more often. The chorus’s virtues include pitch, diction, cohesiveness, and spirit. These charges sang “Va, pensiero” beautifully, and – in accordance with custom – Mr. Levine repeated the chorus. The second time, he was softer (very effective). Unfortunately, the accompaniment in each instance was imprecise – better the second time, but still not good. This was weird from an orchestra and conductor so reliable.

The soprano role in this opera is one of the great voice-killers of all time: Abigaille. Is Maria Guleghina – who was in 2001’s cast as well – up to it? Yes. Hers is a hell-for-leather portrayal; she is holding nothing back, singing like there’s no tomorrow (and there may not be). You might say that the role of Abigaille is more survived than conquered, but Ms. Guleghina did her share of conquering.

Don’t get me wrong: The voice was rough, and many of the top notes were low – way low. But no one should expect his Abigaille to be, say, Rosina. That said, Ms. Guleghina did pretty well in the bits of coloratura, or semi-coloratura, that Verdi has written for her.

Theatrically, she exhibited an animal power, actually prowling the stage – and her long, unruly hair looked somewhat like a mane. At one point, she literally sang through gritted teeth. Speaking of teeth: Did she chew the scenery? Maybe a little, but Abigaille is no time for modesty. Ms. Guleghina is an old-fashioned diva, right down to the over-holding of final notes. We may criticize Ms. Guleghina, but we would miss her, and her breed.

“Nabucco” has two roles that require low male voices with tremendous authority: These are the title role and that of Zaccaria, the High Priest of the Hebrews. In the former was Nikolai Putilin, who sang arrestingly, if not perfectly. It was that kind of evening: The duet between Nabucco and Abigaille, for example, wasn’t pretty, but it was game. It was willing. And Mr. Putilin was touching as the deranged, deposed Nebuchadnezzar (Nabucco). This is an opera filled with musical and dramatic opportunities.

As Zaccaria, Paata Burchuladze began a little wobbly, but he grew better. Vocal flaws aside, he embodied leadership. And his cavatinas were quite moving – roughly moving, you might say.

Theevening’s tenor was a Welshman, Gwyn Hugh Jones. He is not to be confused with the Welsh soprano Gwyneth Jones. Have you ever met a Welshman who couldn’t sing, by the way? Mr. Jones can, indeed, sing, strongly and brightly – and lyrically, and plangently. He has an Italianate “catch” in his voice that does him good (as long as he doesn’t overdo it). On Monday night, in that grand grand opera, he sounded heroic, but one sees in his bio that he also sings graceful, nimble Nemorino (in “L’Elisire”) – impressive. He suffered from some flatness and other problems, but he was exceptionally enjoyable, and we should hear him more at the Met.

Wendy White was the mezzo singing Fenena, and she rarely disappoints. She is excellent in Verdi, and excellent in Wagner too – when she substituted as Brangane in a Met “Tristan,” I was grateful for the substitution (no slight to the originally scheduled Brangane – I can’t even remember who it was). It would be nice to see Ms. White more regularly in major parts.

I stress: This was not a “Nabucco” with a lot of subtlety. But there’s not a lot of room for subtlety in this opera, and it had huge dramatic power, from beginning to end.

Mr. Moshinsky’s production includes cool special effects, and John Napier’s sets plant you in just the right frame of mind. So do Andreane Neofitou’s costumes (for example in the contrast between the gleaming Babylonian horde and the ragged Hebrew). When Abigaille hands over an odious decree to the High Priest of Baal, who snatches it with glee – there is a moment.

No, “Nabucco” isn’t “L’Elisir d’Amore,” whose production at the Met is valentiney indeed. It is pink and frilly and winsome, and at the end they unfurl a banner that says, “Evviva l’Amore!” (“Long Live Love!”). But “Nabucco” is noble and affirming and welcome on any night.

Ah, one last observation: In the first act, Nebuchadnezzar vows that “amid shrieks and groans and blood, Zion will fall.” For a second, I thought I was enrolled in the Middle East studies department at Columbia University. But, no, it was just an opera, Verdi’s first hit, and an enduring one.

“Nabucco” will be performed again February 19 & 26 and March 2, 5 & 8 (Lincoln Center, 212-362-6000).