"Falstaff" at Metropolitan Opera, a Bundle of Energy Two memorable new productions book-ended the year at the Metropolitan Opera: François Girard's painfully human "Parsifal," set in a post-apocalyptic no-man's land, and Robert Carsen's zippy "Falstaff," set in a 1950s England of Technicolor opulence. For a director approaching "Parsifal," the challenge is to come up with ideas to populate the dramaturgical moonscape that are Wagner's interminable monologues in this five-hour-plus opera. Verdi's comedy "Falstaff," by contrast, is teeming with action, and the task of the director - no less difficult - is one of traffic control. Mr. Carsen does a beautiful job of choreographing the small gestures, feints and slapstick moments in this opera. More than any other opera production this year, this one deserves a second viewing to savor the details. If you haven't seen it, go before the run ends on Jan. 11 (metoperafamily.org). Among the details to savor are the glamorous costumes by Brigitte Reiffenstuel that bring out the class conflict that is at the basis of Mr. Carsen's production: the chic graphic prints for Meg Page, the over-the-top floral patterns for Mistress Quickly. Falstaff, pathetic in his grubby underwear, needs his red hunting coat and tweeds as much as he needs food and drink. His is a world of privilege that is beginning to lose its footing, and it's not just that a run-of-the-mill waiter can snag the heart of an aristocrat's daughter; the merry wives are running the show. The quartet of leading ladies is brilliantly cast: Angela Meade as the upwardly mobile Alice Ford; Lisette Oropesa as her chirpy daughter, Nannetta; Jennifer Johnson Cano as the warm and clever Meg Page; and Stephanie Blythe as the cunning busybody Mistress Quickly. In Ambrogio Maestri, Mr. Carsen has a Falstaff who appears to live for the role. With James Levine on the podium, the Met Orchestra plays its collective heart out. Amid the patter of physical comedy there are also moments of visual magic. My favorite occurs in Act II, when Ford and an improbable number of extras pour into Alice's buttercup-yellow kitchen in search of Falstaff. As the stream of gray-suited, clueless, masculinity rolls over the kitchen counter and into the cupboards, household items flying everywhere, it is the very Shakespearean clash of human energies - jealous, playful, avaricious and vengeful - that is made visual in a swirl of bodies.