The 2006 season from Washington National Opera finally opened Saturday night with an opera that I was thrilled to see and hear live, Béla Bartók's A Kékszakállú herceg vára (Duke Bluebeard's Castle, premiered at the Budapest Opera in 1918). The Ambassador of Hungary, András Simonyi — fresh from a hilarious appearance on the Colbert Report — was so happy that he helped host the opening night WNO gala in honor of the 50th anniversary of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution and the 125th anniversary of Bartók's birth.

The Hungarian libretto by Béla Balázs tells a bloody, psychological story based on Charles Perrault's Conte de Barbe Bleue (1695). Perrault took the story from the actual life of a Renaissance French serial killer named Gilles de Rais. Bartók and Balázs focused the story on one of the wives whom Bluebeard murdered, here named Judith. The operatic version is as much about Judith's attempt to understand her new husband's evil nature, casting light into all the dark corners of his blood-stained castle, as it is about her inevitable murder.

For the WNO's first performance of this opera in its history, it revived the production created by William Friedkin at Los Angeles Opera in 2002. As someone who loves The Exorcist, which Friedkin directed, I was glad to see some references to that movie. Like Fr. Karras in The Exorcist, Bluebeard is doubled by a dark-clothed shadow figure with a pasty white face, supernumerary Neno Pervan, an actor from Sarajevo whose first credit was in Friedkin's 2003 film The Hunted. He speaks the Prologue while suspended above the stage among clouds, dropping down the red scarf that Bluebeard will use later to strangle Judith (the murder is not as explicit in the libretto). Other than a few mildly scary images, however, like the projected backdrops of skulls and the beautiful flying ghosts of Bluebeard's dead wives, controlled by puppeteers (designed by Michael Curry), Friedkin has opted for a fairly bloodless production (was that one of Henri Rousseau's jungle paintings behind the fourth door?), I am sorry to report.

The singing was certainly good, but both stars sound slightly past their prime. I spent the day before going to the opera listening to my recording of Samuel Ramey in this role, with Eva Martón, from the 1980s. As we heard when he sang Claggart in Billy Budd here two years ago, Ramey has faded in power and developed an occasional vocal wobble. Even so, as the fifth and sixth doors were opened, he had saved up enough strength to give us a taste of his former snarling menace. Denyce Graves has had her own vocal troubles in recent years, and we heard some raggedness in her high notes and low singing that sometimes sounded forced to the point of vocal harm. At other points, she was virtually covered by the plenitude of the orchestra. In spite of a lack of vocal luster, both singers captured the dramatic tension of this two-person show and seemed to be enjoying their reunion on the stage.

The orchestra sounded in fine form, especially the thunderous and solid brass section, whose parts are so important in this score. Conductor Giovanni Reggioli stepped in just days before the opening to replace ailing Music Director Heinz Fricke, which had me worried. Other than a few imprecise entrances, he seemed to have matters well in hand. (He was "covering" the score throughout the rehearsal process, so I shouldn't have been concerned.) The score is not as dissonant as you might think: coming early in Bartók's career, it is rather lush and Romantic, allowing the clashing half-steps of the blood motif to stand out each time that Judith notices the red stains everywhere in the castle. The celesta, percussion, and winds produced a suitably chilling graveyard wind sound as the sixth door was opened, revealing the lake of tears.

Instead of one of the more serious operas with which the 60-minute Bluebeard is usually paired, we then heard Puccini's buffo farce Gianni Schicchi, which was composed and premiered around the same time as the Bartók but could not be more different. Rather than letting the weight of the first opera hang in the air, Friedkin undercut his own work by making several jokes in reference to Bluebeard: the ghost that flies up from Buoso Donati's body in the opening measures, the birds from the opening lake scene of Bluebeard that Lauretta feeds on the same staircase (based on Louise Bourgeois's installation I Do I Undo I Redo), the red scarf that reappears in the costume that Ramey wears, and even a painted portrait of Bartók on the wall of the set, next to one of Puccini.

Ramey was back as the title character, a parvenu charlatan who cheats a conniving family out of a portion of the inheritance they want to wrest from their relative's dead hands (for his crimes, Dante placed Schicchi in the eighth circle of the Inferno). Ramey was ably supported by Elizabeth Bishop as the pompous Zita, character tenor Robert Baker as Gherardo, Operalia winner Antonio Gandia as Rinuccio, and Colombian bass Valeriano Lanchas as Simone. The rest of the mostly local and largely untried cast consisted of other current and former members of the Domingo-Cafritz Young Artists Program, which is a happy chance for the singers and an ingenious and cheap way to cast this ensemble piece, although as far as I know the ticket prices are not reduced. The directing emphasized mugging and slapstick, appropriately, and the singing was just fine. It won't hurt you to stay for the second half (and hearing the lovely, young soprano Amanda Squitieri sing the opera's very famous aria "O mio babbino caro" to Samuel Ramey certainly pleases), but the reason to go is the chance to experience a live, staged performance of Bartók's masterpiece. It may not make you jump out of your seat, but you will feel a chill.

The remaining performances are scheduled for September 20, 25, and 28 and October 1, 3, and 7. Members of Generation O, the program for students and young professionals, ages 18-35, can qualify to purchase tickets offered at greatly reduced prices.