Ancient Egyptian pharaohs, priests, ceremony, death and … juggling? Is this a Regietheater staging of Aida set in a circus? But the repeated, rippling arpeggios immediately identify the music as Philip Glass, the opera his Akhnaten. The production is Phelim McDermott’s, seen twice at English National Opera (selling out the Coliseum both times, rare events in ENO’s troubled recent history) and, in 2016, at LA Opera. It finally transferred in November 2019 to the Metropolitan Opera, from where this performance was beamed into cinemas worldwide.

Akhnaten (1983) is the strongest of the composer’s ‘portrait’ trilogy. It has the firmest narrative thread (for the often abstract world of Glass) of his operas, taking events from the funeral rites of Amenhotep III and coronation of Akhnaten, to the new pharaoh’s adoption of a monotheistic religion, the worshipping of the sun god, Aten. After Akhnaten’s subsequent death, killed during an attack on his palace, the opera ends with the Scribe – now a modern-day tourist guide – describing the ruins of Amarna (Akhnaten’s former capital city), the spirits of the pharaoh and his family living on. The libretto – largely sung in Egyptian, Hebrew and Akkadian – is assembled from documents dusted off by Egyptologists, including a poem by Akhnaten himself, and funerary texts from The Book of the Dead found at Amarna.

I’ve waxed long and lyrical about McDermott’s staging before. Kevin Pollard’s costumes are magnificent and Bruno Poet’s lighting outstanding. McDermott taps into the hypnotic repetitions of Glass’s music by highlighting the sense of slow-motion ritual, small gestures oft-repeated, including the mesmeric contributions of the Gandini Juggling Company. It sounds daft on paper, but the director cites tomb inscriptions showing jugglers as his inspiration. And it works. Balls, clubs and beach balls are all kept in perpetual motion, in rhythm with the music, and the effect transports the viewer.

Anthony Roth Costanzo is outstanding in the title-role, as he was in London and Los Angeles. Waxed, buffed and daubed in gold – although his modesty was protected by a loincloth for the cinema relay – he commands the stage, despite his diminutive frame. His golden countertenor has a gleaming top, although lower notes are a little lacking, and entwines seductively with J’Nai Bridges’s luscious mezzo as Nefertiti in their long duet. Dísella Lárusdóttir copes well with the stratospheric writing for Queen Tye (Akhnaten’s mother) and Zachary James, mistakenly labelled in the cast as Amenhotep III rather than the Scribe, is a towering presence (literally) with his bold declamatory texts. Karen Kamensek keeps the motors of the Met Orchestra whirring and chugging along, while the Met Opera Chorus is superb.

Presentation is minimal – nice to see a brief comeback for Papyrus font! – with short, professional introductions to each act by Joyce DiDonato, minus the oleaginous backstage interviews that mar most Met broadcasts. Akhnaten is scheduled to return to the Met next May, with more or less the same cast. This is an outstanding document of an outstanding production.