A sensible man, Verdi loved Shakespeare — writing “Macbeth,” “Otello,” and his final opera, “Falstaff.” What might he have done with “King Lear”? In any case, the Metropolitan Opera presented “Macbeth” on Monday night, in a new production by Adrian Noble.

Governing the night in the pit was James Levine, the Met’s music director. He was as he often is, in Verdi and other composers: brisk, straightforward, no-nonsense. The score was tight, but still had breath in it. He did not exploit moments that might have been exploited. It would be hard to say that the score had maximum drama. But it had no falsity. And Mr. Levine conveyed the drama in a correct, compact way.

In the title role, we had a baritone from the ex-Yugoslavia: Zeljko Lucic. He was in command of his part, and — not unlike his conductor — exercised some restraint. This was true vocally, and it was true dramatically. Mr. Lucic was not a scenery-chewing Macbeth; but he was not a wallflower. In the main, his singing was smooth, unforced, and admirable. He seemed to tire somewhat at the end, and the last note of his aria was flat. But this was a commendable Macbeth.

And though the character is a villain, Mr. Lucic made you sort of root for the guy. If Macbeth can be sympathetic — this was one.

His consort was Maria Guleghina, the soprano born in Odessa. And, as anyone who has ever heard her knows, she is a hell-for-leather, no-tomorrow singer. She sings as though she will never be onstage again. She is saving herself for nothing. And that can be an invaluable trait in an opera singer.

Lady Macbeth is often imperious and scalding, and imperious and scalding happen to be two of Ms. Guleghina’s specialties. But she can also sing moderately, even tenderly, as she did on this occasion. You would not turn to her for cleanness or purity — or for accuracy of pitch, necessarily. She has other strengths. And she showed those strengths to applause-worthy effect on Monday night.

In the role of Banquo — alive and dead — was John Relyea, the Canadian bass-baritone. He was imposing, of course — he always is. But, especially in the early going, his voice was heavily draped, burdened with too much weight. If his voice had been a face, you would have called it jowly. But it slimmed down, if you will, as the opera progressed, and Mr. Relyea sang Banquo’s pre-death aria resolutely and beautifully — imposingly.

Macduff was Dimitri Pittas, an American tenor, who owns a trumpet (a vocal trumpet). Malcolm was another tenor, Russell Thomas, who also owns a trumpet. Strong in my memory is his turn, a couple of seasons ago, as the First Prisoner in Beethoven’s “Fidelio.” Both tenors executed their parts in “Macbeth” with verve and clarity.

In this opera, the chorus is called on quite a lot, and the Met’s responded enthusiastically. Not every note was there, but most were, and spirit overrode all. The exiles’ chorus was quite beautiful, with its plaintive oboe(“plaintive oboe” being a terrible cliché, but apt).

Speaking of the orchestra: The offstage horns, at Duncan’s arrival, were right-on. And the woodwinds in the Sleepwalking Scene were sinuous, spooky — and (yes) plaintive.

Adrian Noble is a former leader of the Royal Shakespeare Company. And his Met “Macbeth” is knowing and honorable, if not endorsable in every particular.

This “Macbeth” looks like “Macbeth,” which is always nice. The single set, and its components, are by Mark Thompson, and if you saw them — without any information — you would probably be able to identify the opera. The evil moon would help a lot. And Verdi’s scenes glide into one another easily and imaginatively. For example, a battlefield becomes a bedroom, hesto presto.

We are not in old Scotland, but in a newer Scotland — mid-20th century, it seems. A Jeep sits under the snow; men tote rifles. Killings are still accomplished by knives and swords, however — the director has not gone that modern. Like the set, the costumes are by Mr. Thompson, and they are smart. But an old-fashioned crown clashes just slightly with the kings’ modern dress. I thought, if only briefly, of a crown from McDonald’s (but at least McDonald is a Scottish name).

“Macbeth” provides plenty of opportunities for the lighting designer, and this production’s, Jean Kalman, takes full advantage of them. The show is as ghostly and shadowy as we would like. In the castle, Mr. Kalman makes fine use of both traditional torches and electric lamps — at the same time. Only at the end of the opera, when Macbeth is dispatched, does the stage really lighten.

The rain we see, and hear, is waycool; the snow, rather less so — it is weak. After he murders Duncan, Macbeth comes out with bright red hands and forearms. He looks the way the Daily Mirror pictured Tony Blair.

Some aspects of Mr. Noble’s production seemed false or gimmicky to me. For example, did Lady Macbeth really have to roll from bed — and roll and roll? It looked fake. And how about those little video figures (or whatever they were) in the blue balloon? Then there is the Sleepwalking Scene: Verdi has built all the drama necessary into the music. You don’t have to help him much. The singer does not have to roll around the floor, does not have to swing a lamp. Verdi has done his job.

But so has Mr. Noble, on the whole. Most likely, this production will be popular, and the audience will not be wrong.

Outside, on the Met’s façade, hangs a banner showing Macbeth (or somebody) as a dog. This is one of William Wegman’s Weimaraners. Man, has that guy milked that trick for a big and no doubt lucrative career! My main thought on the banner: At least, this time, it’s not covering up the Chagalls.