Buried under all the news coming out of the Metropolitan Opera House last night there was opera   ?   two short ones, in fact. After the accountants had toted up the record-setting numbers, after first-nighters' sequins had fluttered to repose in the seats, and after an army of cafeteria union organizers had sung their final aria on the sidewalks outside, the Met opened its season with the beloved duo "Cavalleria Rusticana" and "I Pagliacci."

Pl當ido Domingo in 'Pagliacci.' (Sara Krulwich/The New York Times)

There was actually even more business to attend before anyone could really concentrate on Mascagni and Leoncavallo. For not only was Placido Domingo assuming the new world's title of 18 first-night appearances at the Met (take that, Caruso), he was bringing along a tenorial protege, Jose Cura from Argentina. Mr. Domingo and his alter ego Luciano Pavarotti still soldier on through middle age waiting for their credible successors. Word has been that Mr. Cura might be the one.

"Cav" and "Pag" are powerful pieces and well able to compete with all the opening-night turmoil and splendor. Patrons were paying up to $850 for their seats and well into four figures for a celebratory dinner afterward. The happenings onstage, and across the street from Lincoln Center for that matter, were much more declasse "Cavalleria" deals with sexual betrayal in rural Sicily; "Pagliacci" deals with sexual betrayal in rural Calabria. Murder resolves both situations.

The pickets had their own drama going, complete with spirited choruses and a printed program. "Labor Struggle" in two acts came complete with synopsis and program notes distributed on the plaza.

Leoncavallo wrote the more sophisticated opera of the two being done inside, with plays within plays and life imitating art. But Mascagni's piece is perhaps the more shattering: a hurricane-force sequence of events propelled by marvelous lyrical writing. Indeed, "Cavalleria Rusticana" is just about the only opera I know that is too short. Curiously, however, "Pagliacci" was much the tighter performance. "Cavalleria" was somewhat of a mess.

Carlo Rizzi, the evening's conductor, seemed almost to lose control of the proceedings at times. The tempos of Santuzza (Dolora Zajick) and Turiddu (Mr. Cura) kept taking him by surprise, just as the chorus   ?   a little distracted and perhaps looking ahead to tonight's difficult "Moses und Aron"   ?   sounded just as confused by what was originating from the pit. The evening was not helped by the productions, both by a much younger Franco Zeffirelli and looking seedier than ever.

Mr. Cura at least has the right look. In the operatic land of the pear-shaped, it is good to have some menacing good looks onstage. I was surprised to learn that he is 37, for he sings like 24 or 25. This, unfortunately, is not a compliment. There are traces of an important voice lurking around this unfinished and slightly strained technique. The musicianship is careless; Mr. Cura's impetuous way with note values and rhythm in his offstage serenade led the Met's harpist on an uncomfortable chase. At least everyone in "Cavalleria" agreed on dynamics, which ranged from loud to louder.

"I Pagliacci" began well with Juan Pons singing Tonio's curtain-raiser to great effect. Dwayne Croft (Silvio) was smooth as silk; Veronica Villarroel (Nedda) worked hard and passionately. Mr. Domingo broke the opening-night record in splendid style. Edging toward 60, he seems to be singing as well as ever. Mr. Cura could listen carefully to his mentor, but I don't know how much he would learn. Mr. Domingo represents a lifetime of musicianship and carefully tended vocal health. It is something we can only admire.

After a round of ovations for Mr. Domingo, the director of the opera, Joseph Volpe, praised him for breaking "a record that many thought could never be broken."

Then Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, taking the stage to a mix of cheers and boos over his feud with the Brooklyn Museum of Art about a controversial painting, declared yesterday Placido Domingo Day. He also invited Mr. Domingo to join him at Yankee Stadium for the playoffs.

Mr. Domingo took the compliments modestly. "I don't want to kid myself," he said. "I think if Caruso was living longer, he would open more times the Metropolitan Opera."