Offenbach's "Les Contes d'Hoffman" is one of opera's most unique specimens on a number of fronts. Not only is it a departure from the composer's lighter fare in every possible way, but it is an opera without a definitive version. In fact, the work has seen so many revisions and additions, that it would not be shocking to find out tomorrow that more music has been discovered for the work, as highly unlikely as it might be. That results in an opera that walks the tight rope of being complex or overly complicated depending on the audience interpretation, the production and the integrity of the performances.

Bartlett Sher's production at the Metropolitan Opera embraces the work's abstract nature and sets it in a black space that occasionally fills up with lush colors. The director noted Federico Fellini's iconic "8 ½" as an inspiration and there can be no doubt that the Italian auteur's colorful world and characters make appearances throughout the work. But on the whole, this production, despite its abundance of color, is rather dark and dreary. The space is dominated by black, emphasizing the hero/antihero's dark and relatively unknown future. Memory, which plays such a crucial role in the opera, is clouded by alcohol and an overall distraught existence. In other words, this Hoffman is on the precipice and all hope of his salvation rests in the ambiguous figure of Nicklausse, who is both his feminine music that he eschews in favor of three sirens as well as his best male friend (adding to the sexual ambivalence is the fact that this role is sung by Mezzo-soprano, thus accentuating opera's long-standing pants role trope). And, of course, in this production Nicklausse's ambiguity stretches even further as she/he is in league with the Hoffman's alter-ego Lindorf. And then there are decided moments where Nicklausse is aligned with the three sirens that Hoffman pursues throughout his adventures. She knows instantly of Olympia's true state. She covers Antonia's eyes in the most climactic moments in the second act, almost acting as the force behind her passionate emotional response. And in the third act, it is suggested that she is engaging in sexual activity with Antonia, thus becoming one with her. In a world filled with doubles, triples and even quadruples (Stella and her three counterparts?), Nicklausse becomes the central and possibly only figure in Hoffman's entire existence. One might venture, based on this analysis, to believe that she has allowed him to concoct the entire opera and its characters in his imagination from the very beginning.

This production has had its ups and downs throughout the years, often lacking in the dynamic performances to truly make Hoffman's tragedy and redemption emotional. But with the cast on Feb. 5, in its last turn of the run, there can be no doubt that this work was represented in one of its finest renditions.

At the head of the cast was sensational Italian tenor Vittorio Grigolo, who, with his lush voice and tremendous stage presence, continues to shine on the world's biggest stage. Is there anything that Grigolo cannot do with his voice? At Hoffman's most ferocious moments, his voice is like a weapon, filled with tremendous aggression and volume. And then he can bring his voice down to the supplest of diminuendi, the thread of his voice still hanging in the air endlessly. He spins crescendos and dimuendos with tremendous dynamism, accentuating Hoffman's increasingly raving lunacy. Just look at the contrast between Hoffman's famed "ode" to the deformed Kleinzach that bookends the entire opera and the open lyrical passages of Act 1. Grigolo's voice and enunciation had an aggressive bite that emphasized a distaste for the poor man. And yet there was an affinity for him, particularly in the final moments of the passage that culminated in a beaming high note filled with pain, an admission of himself as Kleinzach (which he makes all the more explicit in the epilogue). During the "Quand aux traits de sa figure" section of the aria, undoubtedly one of the most impassioned moments of the entire work, Grigolo's voice took on a more nervy complexion, every pushing forward with an urgency that threatened to implode. It characterized Hoffman's passion wondrously, but also pointed to a man already unhinged. The entire of the Kleinzach aria and Grigolo's contrasting interpretations of it were mirrored in the two distinct Act 3 arias "Amis, l'amour tendre et reveur, erreur!" and "O Dieu! Quelle ivresse!" In the former, Grigolo sang with tremendous resentment and snarl, every consonant given extra emphasis. In the latter, he sang with the same ardency and sense of propulsion that expressed Hoffman's desperation. If he could not have Giulietta in this moment, he would truly tip over into insanity.

Contrast those with the purity and refinement of line in the Act 1 romance, in which the innocent man stares at the doll Olympia. Grigolo's voice caressed every phrase and his slow tempo added a sense of fancy to the entire moment. The youthfulness was at its most ardent in the ensuing act with Antonia, where it seemed that Grigolo, no longer an immature student but an ardent romantic, reached his emotional high point. The singing retained the delicacy and tenderness of the previous act, but it had a newfound strength, particularly in the duet with his beloved singer. And while Hoffman's desperate cry of "Un automate" was filled with pangs of hurt, they were whimpers compared to the frenzied "Antonia" that he cries over her fallen body at the end of the ensuing act.

Physically, the transformation was just as potent. Hoffman's inebriation came to the fore with increasing force between the prologue and epilogue, when he looked stunned and wide eyed at Stella. But this slumping and disheveled man, who can barely walk was a far cry from the calm and dashing youth of Act 1 and 2. One might go so far as to say that in Act 1, Hoffman is tremendously naïve in his behavior. He looks about him as if experiencing the world for the first time. In the bar scenes, he barely even bothers to look at anyone around, so familiar is he with his dark and clouded existence. One could experience Hoffman's plight and decline just from watching Grigolo's body language. But having both his physical and vocal acting working so beautiful together makes for a truly visceral and unforgettable experience.

But then there is the rest of the world-class cast assembled.

In the antagonistic role of Lindorf and the other three villains was the peerless Thomas Hampson. The American baritone was an imposing figure in every single scene he was involved, providing a strong counterpoint to Grigolo's increasingly unstable Hoffman. His voice also had a dark edge that oozed with venom. At any moment he could ignite into a rage filled with his trademark attention to text like few other singers could. He made a quick coloratura flourish in the second act trio frightening in its unpredictability and he was the devil himself in the Act 2 confrontation with Antonia. In the famous "Scintille, diamante," in which Dapertutto conjured up a diamond that he plans to use to lure Giuletta, his voice took on an elegant polished quality, every phrase delivered with a reserved romantic ardor. The aria culminated in a fascinating high note that threw the audience into a frenzy.

Kate Lindsey has become the Met's Nicklausse of choice over the last few years. In fact, she has been the only mezzo-soprano to sing this performance and has sung the last 22 performances of the opera at the Met (a streak that will be broken when the opera resumes with a new cast at the end of the month). And her interpretation has grown throughout each. She strikes a sympathetic figure early on as the muse, but then walks the line between being friend and foe to Hoffmann. There seems to be more behind this performance than simply guiding his artistic life. In fact, there is some sexual tension and desire hinted at, particularly in the duet between Antonia and Hoffmann. As the lovers share embraces, Nicklausse walks about the stage in circular fashion, her eyes always fixated on the pair, some part of her desiring for the attention. It adds yet another layer to the battle that rages within this most all-encompassing of characters. Male or female? Friend or foe? Does she simply want to be his abstract creative inspiration or are there more carnal desires motivating her?

Lindsey's singing, particularly during the second act aria is filled with sensuality and subdued passion. That the aria is directly addressed toward Hoffmann only adds to the questions surrounding the character's emotional hopes and desires. But Lindsey also delves into the fun of Nicklausse with a rather hilarious imitation of Olympia at the start of the second act, her voice taking on a nasal quality. Her arrival in the epilogue is a true apotheosis with her delicate singing providing the gateway for Hoffmann's redemption.

The three singers in charge of bringing Olympia, Antonia and Giulietta to life embodied their respective roles to perfection. As the frigid doll Olympia, Erin Morley was inhuman in more ways than one. Her physicality as the doll was spot on, but what really sold her performance of this artificial creation was her voice soaring to Olympian heights (pun undoubtedly intended). She was fearless as she consistently climbed higher and higher into the soprano register, reaching heights that few before and few after will be able to tackle with such ease. Each roulade was delivered with crispness and uncanny facility. It was absolute perfection.

As Antonia, Hilba Gerzmava provided the fieriest of the three performances. Her opening aria "Elle a fui, la tourtelle" was delicate in its rendition, but her voice was filled with increasingly intense crescendos, before calming down to the most poignant of threads at the end of each section. This rising and falling encapsulated Antonia's own internal conflict of letting her art flourish versus restraining it come to the fore. It eventually flourished in one of the most exhilarating moments of the evening -- the concluding trio of the act. Her voice radiated throughout the hall with wild abandon, the high notes pouring out with passion. She cut the climactic C# short, but it mattered little after the powerful performance of the preceding passage. In many contexts, Hoffmann can seem fickle and unmoving, but when Antonia's act is delivered by a wondrous singing actress, it is truly heartbreaking. On this night, the act was heart-shattering.

Christine Rice sang with a distant polish as Giulietta, but this should not be confused for uninteresting. In fact, it emphasized the manipulative manner of the character and her ability to lure men through rejection. But there were hints of passion as she gave into Hoffmann at the midpoint of the sequence, her voice growing in strength and power, the vibrato becoming ever wider. If Antonia and Hoffmann's delicately sung duet painted the portrait of idealized romantic love, the singing of the duet between Giulietta and Hoffmann was filled with hormones reaching their limits and seeking a desperate outlet of satisfaction.

Tony Stevenson had a memorable evening in a number of roles, but none more fascinating that Frantz in the second act. In the hilarious aria in which he "doth protest too much," his agile voice and body language left the viewer in utter amazement. David Crawford sang with virility as Schlemil in the final Act while Olesya Petrova was a fine presence as Antonia's Mother. David Pittsinger also delivered a heart-breaking turn as Antonia's ill-fated father.

At the helm of the orchestra pit was the youthful Yves Abel, who delivered a refreshingly propulsive rendition of the score. While his prologue was admittedly slow and deliberate, the other acts moved with uninterrupted flow. The rhythmic accompaniment of the barcarole had a sensual quality that added to the intense sexuality of the scene. The climactic septet at the end of Act 3 showcased some aggressive accompaniment in the orchestra, highlighting Hoffmann's full-fledged fall from grace and rose to an apotheosis with all voices engulfing the theater with sound. There was greater restraint in the second act of Antonia, adding a dreamlike state to the entire scene.

This run of "Les Contes d'Hoffmann" could not have ended on a higher note. In all ways, this was a truly masterful portrayal of a work often unfairly overlooked because of its unfinished state. The next cast, which takes the stage on Feb. 28, will undoubtedly bring tremendous pleasures to its audience, but even then it will have a tough act to follow.