“Habemus Papam!” rang the cry from Rome last week. (“We have a pope!”) Well, I cry, “Habemus ‘Faustus’! “We have a new “Faust” at the Metropolitan Opera, the sixth production in the company’s history. (And remember, the Met began life, in 1883, with “Faust.”) Directed by Andrei Serban, a Romanian-born professor at Columbia, it is rip-roaring, a killer. Boo-birds sang at Thursday night’s debut, but when don’t they? The Met has a production that will last, and please. Besides which, Gounod’s opera was treated to a first-rate performance, on this opening night.

The entire production drips with sin, danger, torment, and illusion. At the end, of course, comes some light. The eye is almost continually appealed to, and amazed, and yet – to my mind – the production is not cluttered and distracting. We know the music, and the story: We can use some razzle-dazzle. Santo Loquasto’s sets and costumes are imaginative and interesting, yet faithful – faithful to Gounod and Goethe (not necessarily in that order).

Faust’s study is gigantic, with a devil orange globe of some type in the center left (as we look at it). The people he senses, or dreams of, appear behind his foggy windows – “Faust” is a psychological opera; Mr. Serban et al. bring off these elements very well. Mephistopheles makes a dashingly satanic entrance, in top hat and tails. Throughout the opera, he is assisted by weird biker beings. Among the touches in Act I are a “Rheingold”-esque rainbow and an ominous hourglass, telling us that time is cruelly limited.

Act II – in the village square – is a riot of color, and colorfulness. It swirls around like Gounod’s music itself. There’s a gorilla, striking King Kong poses – also a bear and a kangaroo, and a Punch & Judy show, and hookers. What more could you want? Maybe flags, lots of flags – more Tricolors than when France won the World Cup. Mephistopheles makes his appearance in the little box in which Punch & Judy have played.

Marguerite’s home in Act III is indeed “chaste et pure,” as Faust’s aria has it. Her garden is improbably prolific, and a huge tree dominates the set. The church in Act IV is otherworldly – and little consoling – and who else but Death comes by with his scythe? Mephistopheles appears to be wearing some hideous marble body suit. Then, in Scene 2, that colorful village square has been jarringly stripped of life, and Death goes about his work.

Act V’s prison is multi-tiered, skeletal, extraordinary – I thought of a Japanese golf range with bars. (Perhaps you did not.) When salvation comes, the prisoners emerge slowly, wonderingly, like the rescued ones in “Fidelio.” Marguerite is received by white-winged angels, while Faust is dealt a different, sadder reward.

Are some things a little hokey? Sure, but some things in “Faust” are a little hokey. Could I have done without the slow-motion sword fight between Faust and Valentin? Maybe – but sword fights are always problematic, and everyone can do without something. To attempt to please everyone, in every particular, is a fool’s errand.

In the title role was Roberto Alagna, who sang this same role at the Met two seasons ago. At the time, he had as his Marguerite his wife, Angela Gheorghiu, a singer as good as she is maligned, which is saying something. Mr. Alagna sang splendidly on that occasion, and less so on Thursday night. He had a rocky beginning, bleating, unable to find his pitch. Throughout the evening, he would be sharp, sometimes quite sharp. He did some forcing in this big house. But he was not unpersuasive, and he sings a beautiful French, does Mr. Alagna – despite that name, he is a Paris kid.

The Met has had a tremendous parade of Mephistopheleses (how’s that for a plural?): Chaliapin, Pinza, George London, Samuel Ramey, James Morris – and now Rene Pape, the great German bass, enjoying his prime. When he sang “Le veau d’or,” I thought, “King Mark [from “Tristan und Isolde”] as the devil!” But certainly by the time he reached his second aria, “Vous qui faites l’endormie,” he was indisputably Mephistopheles. The voice is magnificent, of course, and the technique exemplary, but Mr. Pape also has the physical and temperamental tools for Mephistopheles: the bearing, the suavity…

Doing duty as Valentin was Dmitri Hvorostovsky, who looked super-smart in his gold-buttoned uniform. This was a rather Russian Valentin, but a good one. His aria, “Avant de quitter ces lieux,” was smooth and affecting, with a gold-star A flat toward the end. As usual, this voice was a little contained, muffled – one longs to pull it out a bit – but it was elegant. Moreover, Valentin’s death was admirably acted, unusually moving.

And who was Marguerite? The Finnish soprano Soile Isokoski, who scored a hit. Given Karita Mattila, this is a good era for Finnish sopranos. Ms. Isokoski offered a focused, darkish sound, and she sang with notable control. The Jewel Song was wonderfully feminine, even if its ending could have been giddier. In the love duet, Ms. Isokoski floated some beautiful high notes. And in the Act V trio, she was both cutting and lyrical – remarkable.

There were several stars on the Met stage, but no one was better than Kristine Jepson, the mezzo singing Siebel. She has a superb, strong, vibrant instrument, and no end of accuracy. (At least that was the case on Thursday night.) “Faites-lui mes aveux” was eager, boyish, and totally winning. This is not always true of that aria.

Jane Bunnell did her job as Marthe, and Patrick Carfizzi did his as Wagner.

Important as the singers are, the key figure in “Faust” is the conductor, and this was the Met’s music director, James Levine. He was conducting his first “Faust,” believe it or not – and he brought his usual intelligence, commitment, and musicality to what can be a silly and yawny score. His opening was virtually Wagnerian: measured, anticipatory, powerful. The best conductors elevate the lesser music. Act II’s chorus was tight and rousing, and Act IV, Scene 2’s was swaggering, with just the right amount of bombast – suggesting the soldiers’ false confidence.

The Met orchestra played well, and this was perhaps especially true of its woodwinds, which were even and assured. The Met’s chorus also performed well, particularly in its hushed prayer on Valentin’s death.

So, the Met has birthed a second smash production, new this season: Andrei Serban’s “Faust,” to go with Julie Taymor’s “Magic Flute.” The same criticisms may be leveled at each of them: too busy, too look-at-me. But I, for one, think they should be looked at.

“Faust” will be performed again April 21 & 26 and May 4, 7 & 10 at 8 p.m.; April 30 and May 21 at 1:30 p.m.; and May 18 at 7:30 p.m. (Lincoln Center, 212-362-6000).