Karen Almond

In fact, it’s such a quintessential example it’s often part of its definition: “What is narrative prosthesis?” “It’s like Ahab’s peg-leg in Moby-Dick.” If the white whale hadn’t gnawed off the captain’s limb, triggering his megalomania, there wouldn’t be a story. But there’s little reflection on disability beyond that.

The Met Opera really leans into the “narrative prosthesis” of it all in its new production of Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer’s Moby-Dick, which opened last Monday. One promotional video begins with a close-up shot of the whalebone peg-leg, which looks to be painted polystyrene. On opening night, the cumbersome leg again took center stage, being hobbled upon by tenor Brandon Jovanovich, wild-eyed and clutching his cane.

If Heggie had a prosthesis upon which he leans, it would be tonality. The most inspired moments of Moby-Dick were when, as if channeling Ahab’s madness, Heggie tipped the score further into the deep end. A pounding chorus of “Death to Moby-Dick” on loop, like a stuck record. Perhaps some more dissonant chords thrown into the mix like whaling spears. But Heggie always returned to a Disney-like sound that, especially with the Planetarium projections (by Elaine J. McCarthy), had feeling like I was watching a movie. Still, conductor Karen Kamensek managed to draw out the tension even in Heggie’s wave-like, Philip Glassian figures.

The strongest part of Moby-Dick was the set designed by Robert Brill: A raked stage upon which chorus members did acrobatics. (Keturah Stickann handled movement, while Leonard Foglia provided overall direction.) The phallic ship’s mast, “like the arm of a friend,” right in the center. Masts became stage curtains. Ropes and pulleys became the innards of a giant stringed instrument. These felt at odds with the outdated projections: Fire graphics that looked reused from Grounded. Stormy seas that resembled a CGI Turner painting.

Scheer has managed to cut down Melville’s tome to three hours, which is about one eighth the original. (Some New England towns have a 24-hour reading marathon.) The more offensive parts made the chopping block. Still, it was hard to look past the casual racism of Queequeg (baritone Ryan Speedo Green) singing in broken English. The libretto is full of words and phrases like “piggin,” “loggerhead,” “prepare to jibe,” and even “Nantucket sleigh ride.”

With an all-male cast other than the pants role of Pip (soprano Janai Brugger), it was a lot of seamen onstage. This low tessitura was often balanced by prominent violin and flute. A highlight was Stubb’s rum-drunk aria (baritone Malcolm MacKenzie) about “tough, rare, and bloody” whale steaks, accompanied by off-kilter tambourine. Greenhorn’s aria (tenor Stephen Costello) was almost acapella, joined at times by just oboe and cello. Later on, each pair — Queequeg and Greenhorn, Ahab and Starbuck — got their own love, or rather “male bonding,” duet.

Karen Almond

But unexpectantly stealing the show was baritone Thomas Glass, standing in for Peter Mattei on opening night, as Starbuck. In a “Nessun Dorma”-like aria, in which Starbuck contemplates Ahab’s murder, Glass’s emotions were palpable. Meanwhile, the captain cries out melodically in his sleep, leg lying lifeless beside him. When it all comes to a frothy climax in the second act, with “Thar she blows!” the animated whale herself was disappointing. It’s not until the very last scene that Greenhorn sings the line everyone was waiting for, atop silvery strings: “Call me Ishmael.”

In the end, the biggest problem with Heggie and Scheer’s Moby-Dick is, perhaps, that the score is too traditional, when there are many more experimental Melville interpretations to turn to; for instance, Laurie Anderson’s 1999 Songs and Stories from Moby Dick, or more recently to Andrew Yee and Caroline Shaw’s music for Wu Tsang’s arresting film. In the latter, note Ahab’s whalebone high heel.