But the production largely succeeds at Mr. McDermott’s goal of presenting “Akhnaten” as a “weird fever dream” combining ancient Egypt and the Victorians who fetishized it, as he said in a New York Times interview. The set — slightly steampunk, with corrugated metal walls and industrial-style platforms — coexists with fantastical evocations of the pharaoh’s world; an Egyptian aristocrat is dressed like a 19th-century gentleman, but with a skull embedded in his top hat.

Mr. Glass and his collaborators assembled the libretto from ancient Egyptian, Akkadian and Hebrew sources, though crucial passages are intended to be spoken in the language of the audience by a character called the Scribe. Mr. McDermott has chosen to have the texts delivered by the ghost of Akhnaten’s father, played by Zachary James, who looks imposing in his sequined regalia and speaks the lines with chilling intensity.

The opera begins with the extended scene of his funeral. Finally — and it felt like a long wait — the new pharaoh, Akhnaten, appears: the countertenor Anthony Roth Costanzo. When attendants remove the stiff garment that encases him, Mr. Costanzo stands motionless on a platform, completely naked. Staring ahead with uncanny focus, he looks like a young man overcome with the momentousness of the ceremony — not just a coronation, but also a public ritual of rebirth. His nudity makes him seem at once fearless and vulnerable.

Before he sings a note, Mr. Costanzo already seems to be nursing a radical agenda, which involves, as we soon learn, transforming Egypt from a polytheistic society to one embracing a single god, Aten, whose energy fills the sun.

In the next scene, Mr. Costanzo sings the opening phrases of a hymn of acceptance with gleaming high notes and melting sound that cut through the orchestra with surprising ease. This blossoms into a ravishing trio for Akhnaten, his wife, Nefertiti (the rich-voiced mezzo-soprano J’Nai Bridges, in an auspicious Met debut), and his mother, Queen Tye (the radiant soprano Disella Larusdottir).