To see Aida is to be reminded of all the elements that comprise grand opera: large ensemble pieces, soul-stirring arias, famous melodies, raging passions and breathtaking spectacle. The new National Theater production of this timeless classic has nearly all those elements, yet they don't quite add up to a grand production.

Aida was an instant hit when it premiered in Cairo, Egypt, in December 1871, and it's not hard to see why. The intimate story of the title character's hopeless love for an Egyptian war hero, and the wrenching conflict it poses to her loyalty to family and country, is set against an exotic, colorful backdrop of history on the march. And the music is unforgettable. Even if you've never seen Aida, you will recognize some of the melodies, which were long ago appropriated into the popular musical lexicon.

The main problem with staging Aida is that there's not much room to maneuver. It's a straight-ahead costume drama with no psychological depths to plumb or new insights to dispense, short of transposing the entire work to a different time and place. But that's not what fills seats, and director Steffen Piantek wisely chose to approach the material with what he calls "a certain respect." The setting and trappings of ancient Egypt are presented intact, and the focus is properly on the love story — which, as in many of the greatest love stories, can only end happily in the afterlife.

No complaints about the cast, either. The National Theater recruited Italian soprano Daniela Longhi for the title role, a part she's sung many times on stages from Tokyo to New York. Radames is sung by well-traveled Russian tenor Sergej Ljadov, who may not look the part of a warrior hero but can certainly sing it. The standout at the Oct. 15 premiere, however, was Ukrainian mezzo-soprano Alina Gurina, who dominated the stage as Amneris, Aida's scheming rival. She managed to be sensual and cruel and alluring and frightening over the course of the evening, to the point of making one wonder why Radames would prefer the weepy Aida.

The orchestra has a nice feel for Verdi under the baton of conductor Oliver Dohnányi. The choral scenes are outstanding, very powerful and effectively sung offstage at several points where it's more dramatic to hear religious invocations or portents of doom coming from the wings. The pacing of the production is also quite good, coming in at a brisk (for this opera, anyway) three hours, 20 minutes.

So why does the production feel so lifeless? Perhaps because the elaborate costumes and sets look like they were lifted straight from a Cecil B. De Mille movie, complete with clichés such as slaves waving big palm-leaf fans and "walk like an Egyptian" dances. Or perhaps it's the static direction. The normally limber chorus is lead-footed, and the singing is all of the step-to-the-front-of-the-stage-and-deliver-it-straight-to-the-audience variety.

The big opportunity to inject life into Aida comes in the famous victory march midway through the second act. "[Do we] expect to see a live elephant on the stage?" Piontek asks in his remarks in the program. Well, no, but it does seem to call for more than a few dozen extras half-dressed as soldiers sauntering by. When Radames finally makes his triumphant entrance on what is essentially a horse cart, it's way too little, way too late.