When James Levine last conducted Puccini’s “Manon Lescaut” at the Metropolitan Opera House, Ronald Reagan had just been inaugurated as president, the American hostages were recently home from Iran, and the malaise that had infected the country was dissipating.

Now 27 years later, Finnish soprano Karita Mattila brings her version of the role to the Met stage for the first time. “Manon Lescaut” is not Puccini’s first opera, but it was written just before he gained worldwide fame with “La Bohème.” The consensus at second intermission on Tuesday was that it was great to have this opera back, even if the current performance was lukewarm at best.

Tenor Marcello Giordani had simply an uncharacteristically bad night. Tending to sharp from beginning to end, he showed strain in his upper register, and the direction of Gina Lapinski left him standing around quite a bit looking lost. In Act I he was hardly a match for young Sean Panikkar, making his Met debut as Edmondo. “Vedete? Io son fedele alla parola mia,” the duet that pitted Mr. Giordani with Ms. Mattila, was more screamed than sung. The entire act seemed leaden, Maestro Levine failing to conjure the requisite effervescence.

Ms. Mattila had some shining moments in Act II, particularly her sensitive rendition of “In these silken curtains,” but was way over the top as a character. Dwayne Croft was fine as her brother and Dale Travis convincing as Geronte. This is probably a shared responsibility with the director, but Ms. Mattila portrayed Manon as a slapstick slut, legs in the air at every opportunity. Refusing to exhibit Manon’s simple purity did a great disservice to the story as a whole, while the inelegance of this character’s presence contrasted jarringly with the opulence of the Desmond Heeley set. And take heed, you CD lovers: Manon is arrested when she lingers too long collecting her jewel boxes.

Of course, Mr. Levine is a master at orchestral conducting and so the opening of Act III was profoundly moving. What follows this instrumental masterpiece is Puccini’s first great scene. The prison ship is leaving for America and Manon is held in a cage at the water’s edge. One by one, the offending underclass of fallen women appear. They are derided as they board the boat.

But the music tells a very different story. Puccini writes some of the most ennobling, almost apotheosizing music for these poor creatures who are being banished. Each of them, including Manon, is a heroine of a special type. Each of these grisettes and demimondaines, in her own way, becomes The Maid of New Orleans.

Mr. Levine has always been better at darkness than light, and so this act seemed more in step with a standard Puccini interpretation. Even the singers seemed to respond, Mr. Giordani improving for his “Guardate, pazzo son” at the conclusion of the act. But perhaps he was not much better. It is possible that the audience had simply adjusted its ears a little downward to entertain a lower standard of acceptability.

In Act IV, Manon and des Grieux die of exposure on “the desert of Louisiana.” But it would take more than an emotive “Sola, perduta, abbandonata” from Ms. Mattila to elevate this performance above the pit of mediocrity.