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Monday night at the Metropolitan Opera the performance began at 7 PM and ended, three acts and two intermissions later, at 11:40, five minutes ahead of schedule. It is the virtue of this opera, and the Met's production, that such length is barely perceptible. One can become awfully tired sitting through a first act that runs for an hour and 40 minutes, but that did not happen Monday night

Credit music director James Levine, who set a brisk pace that did not flag all evening. Credit also a cast that, despite a substitution in the title role, warmed to its task until the final act surged with an electricity rare even for Verdi.

The performance marked the return of soprano Mirella Freni to the Met stage for the first time since the '69-'70 season, as well as her first local appearance as Elizabeth. It's hard to understand why a voice with such freshness, strength and easy appeal, coupled with capable acting, has been absent for so long.

The Don Carlo was to have been tenor Placido Domingo, but he was reportedly stricken with the flu and was replaced by Ermanno Mauro, who thus sang his first Met Don. Mauro has grown significantly in the past few years, and his voice is clearer and more flexible than in the past. But he is no Domingo, either vocally or dramatically. The absence of the Spanish tenor's dynamism and skilled acting lessened what could have been a truly extraordinary evening.

Verdi wrote Don Carlo for Paris, and it is laden with grandeur both scenically and musically. But, more than spectacle, the opera is an unusual mingling of the theaters of intimacy and opulence.

Carlos, son of King Philip 11 of Spain, is the nominal hero, but his father, a tired and lonely tyrant himself ruled by the church, is a more powerful figure. The cast of complex individuals includes Elizabeth, Carlos' love who is also Philip's second wife; the Princess of Eboli, passionately in love with Carlos herself; and Rodrigo of Posa, staunch friend of both king and prince. The only simple character is the Grand Inquisitor, who is merely ruthless in controlling church and king.

The Met's cast was somewhat uneven. Freni was a dignified and sweet-voiced Elizabeth. Eboli is a role made for Grace Bumbry, who invested it with the passion of a wronged woman; her voice, lightly golden, seemed comfortable in the part.

Nicolai Ghiaurov's Philip was superb. As the King, musing that his wife had never loved him, he personified the disappointment of age. His final aria and the confrontation with the Grand Inquisitor, vibrantly sung yet again by Jerome Hines, crackled with tension.

Louis Quilico's Rodrigo began flatly, but he rose to the part as the evening continued. In smaller roles, Betsy Norden was lithe in voice and body as Tebaldo; Natalia Rom, in her Met debut, had range but a wide vibrato as the Celestial Voice; and Richard Vernon rang out as the Friar.

John Dexter's production, last seen in '79-'80, is rich in spectacle and intimacy, using David Reppa's powerful sets, remarkably fine lighting by Gil Wechsler and Ray Diffen's ornate costumes.

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