As one potentially revolutionary leader stepped into office following Tuesday’s inauguration, the Atlanta Opera took the opportunity to recount another official’s rise to power.

Akhnaten, the 14th-century B.C. Egyptian ruler who bravely attempted but failed to reform his country’s belief system, was the focus of Philip Glass’s opera at the Schwartz Center on Friday and Sunday. The opera, which is Glassian with its repetitive melodies and rhythms, tells the story of the pharaoh who has been early erased from history thanks to his controversial ideas.

Akhnaten — never before performed in Atlanta — concludes Glass’s mid-’80s “Portrait Trilogy.” After composing operas spotlighting Einstein and Ghandi, Glass’s focus fell on Akhnaten, who took a sole wife and renounced his country’s polytheistic past — two radical shifts that departed from his nation’s ideals. After asking his people to accept monogamy and monotheism, they responded with uproar and left his city in ruins.

The opera is comprised of the important rituals of Akhnaten’s life — the death of his father, becoming king, marriage and his fall — and although ritual is key to opera, Glass’s Akhnaten often seemed nothing more than an ill-judged patchwork of these events. The performance lacked a consistent narrative, one that would have created a more coherent and stirring story for the audience.

Although the storyline was often lacking, the score and actors’ performances were not. When writing the opera, Glass anticipated a larger orchestra pit than the one offered on Friday. So to allow for more room, he cut the violins. This resulted in a darker, more ominous tone for the opera, which accentuated its stern rituals. Glass’s use of polytonality — that is, different instruments simultaneously playing the same note sequence but in different keys — also provided an eerie effect.

The singing was flawless. The chorus rose to the challenge (mostly to their diaphragms) of Glass’s repetitive staccato notes, which countered the flat, off-beat notes from the soloists to create an impressive sound.

Glass’s use of long-voweled Hebrew gave the soloists a great chance to showcase their powerful voices. John Gaston’s strong performance as Akhnaten was initially shocking: Laughter rippled throughout the audience as this stocky man sang countertenor, the highest male register. Despite the initial shock, his voice proved stunning, taking the higher parts in harmonies with seeming ease.

However, Gaston’s acting fell short of his vocals, with his depiction only hinting at Akhnaten’s journey from wide-eyed idealism to stern hegemony. The more successful performances came from cast members not afraid to use their eyes as well as their voices. Mary Ann McCormick played Akhnaten’s wife with tenderness, making her powerful alto all the more touching.

Visually, the opera was powerful as well. The chorus lined the back wall of the stage and, all perfectly matched in identical black clothing, created an impenetrable wall of sound. The soloists’ costumes were also powerful sights. As Akhnaten’s father, the preceding king, entered stage with his procession at the opera’s opening, the bare stage came alive with whites, golds and deep reds.

But for a performance with such musical grandeur, it was a shame that the upper backdrop of Schwartz was a messy distraction of chairs and music stands. The rich costume colors and the ominous tones from the orchestra pit and ensemble deserved a backdrop of complete darkness.

One pleasing sight was the addition of Theater Emory students to the production — what a coincidence that some of these students were parodying Glass’s work in the David Ives plays just a few months ago! The actors filled roles of Akhnaten’s followers and citizens, and offered strong support to the soloists with their focus and close attention to detail.

Yet, as fantastic an addition as the Theater Emory troupe was during the Egyptian scenes, it was difficult to watch as they stumbled upon the ruins near the end of the play. But perhaps this awkward scene — in which the opera moves forward to the present, where excited tourists see the ruins of Akhnaten’s city as a photo-op — wasn’t their fault. By bringing the opera to now, maybe Glass wanted us to consider Akhnaten’s visionary ideas with today’s hindsight, even if it didn’t suit the ethos of the play, and even if the cast members didn’t quite get the laugh they perhaps expected with their excessive photo-snapping and fidgeting.

The end of the opera was saved by the re-emergence of the rich colors and powerful voices of Akhnaten’s stunning procession. However, in the aftermath, it was hard to know how to feel. Were we supposed to lament Akhnaten’s fall and its repercussions, or were we meant to be glad that this totalitarian failed? In spite of Glass’s hypnotic score, and in spite of the beautiful vocal sparring between the characters, the opera’s lack of compelling narrative made it hard to form any definite attachment to and opinion about this revolutionary leader.

— Contact Lydia Warren.