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Ryan Speedo Green as the Spirit Messenger and Nina Stemme as the Nurse | Photo: Evan Zimmerman / Met Opera

Richard Strauss's and Hugo von Hoffmanstahl’s fantasy/ fairy tale opera, Die Frau ohne Schatten, was first seen at the Met during its opening season at Lincoln Center, in 1966-67. Given the challenge that the work presents in terms of casting, grand orchestration and, yes, patience for the libretto, I suspect the Met never knew that it was going to turn into a great hit. But it did, and now it has somewhat of a cult following in New York. If it's there, you must see it. And that production and cast ensured success – Nathaniel Merrill and Robert O’Hearn’s phantasmagoric conception left Met audiences speechless. I’ve come to realise that no opera house would put it on unless they had all of their resources at their most stellar. Although there's no other comparison really, one will also never see a really mediocre performance of either Fastaff or Tristan und Isolde. There’s too much at stake; if it can't be done wonderfully, it isn't done.

The plot is somewhat of a pain in the neck. The semi-divine Emperor and Empress live in a higher realm, with an evil nurse watching over the Empress. The Empress's father, Keikobad, rules the realm. He has given her an ultimatum – find a shadow, ie: develop the ability to bear children (ie: learn love and generosity) within three months or the Emperor will be turned to stone and the nurse will be banished. The opera takes place during the last three days of the three month’s period. Tensions are high. Keikobad’s doom-voiced messenger enters to remind the Empress, the Nurse and the audience of this stricture. The Nurse has a wicked plan. In the world below, where the common people live, she sees a loving, poor, hard-working Dyer and his somewhat shrewish wife, who wants luxury and a better life, but not children. Down to that realm they go hoping somehow to either manipulate or steal the wife's shadow and solve the problem.

Herbert Wernicke’s replacement of the original production came in 2001. It is gigantic and beautiful. The upper realm is made up of mirrored ceiling, floors and walls, which give off exquisite prisms of brilliant light and keep the eye absolutely entertained. We see characters in three different places, with mirrors reflecting and refracting their appearance.The Dyer and his wife, down below, live in what seems to be an industrial basement, with metal pipes, dirty walls and floor and little light. The Met’s elevator moves from high to low easily and the effect is grand. J. Knighten Smith’s direction had the characters’ interactions believable, underlining their true natures.

A scene from Die Frau ohne Schatten | Photo: Evan Zimmerman / Met Opera

As required, the Met’s cast is remarkable: three sopranos of Wagnerian strength, a Heldentenor, a grand-voiced bass-baritone who can sing sensitively when needed and the aforementioned bass-Messenger. In this last-mentioned role, Ryan Speedo Green, a Met favourite and towering figure, was potent and frightful. Everyone hopes he will soon be given real starring roles – King Philip, for instance (he’s slated for his first Wotan.) The tenor-Emperor only appears in three scenes, but Strauss has given him arias/monologues of great beauty and difficulty. Russell Thomas nails them all with handsome legato and strength and beauty up to repeated high B flats and Bs. Back down in the earthly realm, we find Michael Volle as Barak the Dyer. As the only named character in the opera, he represents humanity in all its goodness. The 64 year old Volle, a renowned Wotan, gave this performance a centre, and if the tone was a bit worn at times, it was not at others, and his attention to the text was that of a Lieder singer.

Nina Stemme, recently an Isolde and previously a Dyer’s Wife, here sings the role of the Nurse. Most often taken by mezzo-sopranos, the vocal line is all over the place and jaggedly unattractive, even on the page. Stemme, with an occasional truly unappealing wobble, nonetheless proved how effective she can be, with formidable high notes. Lise Lindstrom, was announced as indisposed before the opera, but sang the first act with passion, even if some high notes sounded desperate. She was replaced by Rebecca Nash for the remainder of the opera, whose huge but generic sound still conquered the role’s hurdles. The title role was taken by Elza van der Heever in what will be recalled as an epic star turn. Early in the opera, just awakening and recalling her previous life as a gazelle (don’t bother to ask), she delivered an exquisitely filigreed soliloquy, touching on a celestial high D. As the opera continues and her sense of humanity struggles against the Nurse’s insistence on stealing the shadow of Mrs Dyer, she expresses the exhausting weight of the situation with glowing, effortless straight tone and great drama. When she opts for goodness and selflessness, suddenly the opera’s knotty mythology becomes real and genuinely moving.

I must mention one important directorial lapse: at the end of Act Two, the score’s direction calls for an earthquake that leaves the nether world in ruins, which explains why Mr and Mrs Barak are blindly searching for one-another at the start of act three. Here we are offered lightning, thunder and a grand cacophony from the orchestra. It certainly stuns, as it should, but that is due to Yannick Nézet-Séguin’s leadership of the fabulous Met Orchestra. I rue the decision to cut the score – the last two revivals presented it complete, avoiding many snippets of inconsistencies. But Maestro Nézet-Séguin’s control of the orchestra allowed for the huge moments to remain huge, while never submerging the singers.

Until 19 December. metopera.org