It is difficult to imagine that the Evgeny Kissin who performed to a packed audience at Symphony Hall the other night was the same pianist who wowed audiences 17 years ago at the age of 12 with his performances of the Chopin concerti. Child prodigies burn out, fail to live up to the impossible standards set for them and become unmarketable. Kissin, however, has emerged as an artist of incredible maturity who also happens to possess a technique of such polish and precision it makes one want to either practice 10 times harder or give up the piano entirely. Presented as part of the FleetBoston Celebrity Series, Kissin gave a recital that affirmed his importance as one of the leading pianists of his generation and a worthy continuation of the Russian piano tradition.

Despite the brilliance of Kissin’s playing later in the evening, the recital got off to a somewhat shaky start with Bach’s Toccata in C Major, BWV 564, originally for organ but transcribed for solo piano by Ferrucio Busoni. This is perhaps the closest we will ever get to hearing Kissin play Bach, and one could hear why he has not made unadulterated Bach a part of his performing repertoire. He is clearly most at home with the romantics, and even this romanticized version of Bach felt awkward and rigid. The opening prelude is marked quasi improvisandio, yet Kissin made it sound like he had been practicing it the same way for years. He then delivered a fugue that was technically solid but lacked the charm and grace needed to propel it forward.

Kissin’s performance of Robert Schumann’s Sonata No. 1 in F-sharp minor was much more convincing. The work was written during the white-heat inspiration of Schumann’s tumultuous courtship of the brilliant pianist, Clara Wieck, whom he would later marry. While the work does not quite reach the desperation and pathos of other Clara-obsessed compositions (such as the Fantasy in C Major), it shares many of the features of other Schumann compositions from the same time period, namely capriciousness and extremity of emotions (from the heroic Eusebius to the introspective Florestan—the two characters of Schumann’s compositional personality). Kissin was at his best in the second movement “Aria,” his caressing tone working its magic in the acoustical splendor that is Symphony Hall. The fourth-movement “Finale” is Schumann at his most wildly inventive, and Kissin handled the odd transitions and whimsical nature of the movement with apparent ease and enough discipline to keep the sections from falling apart at the seams.

After intermission came Modest Mussorgky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, that perennial favorite among pianists and orchestras (in Ravel’s orchestration). What can be offered to this piece that hasn’t already been done? Not much, but Kissin played the work like he owned it. Particularly effective was his powerful left hand in the “Bydlo (Oxen)” movement, as well as the simple lyricism of the opening “Promenade” theme and later in the “Con Mortuis in Lingua Mortua” (“With the Dead in a Dead Language”). The only real disappointment came with “Il Vecchio Castello” (“The Old Castle”). The simple, lilting 6/8 trochaic rhythm was stretched out with too much rubato, completely obliterating the evocations of Medieval troubadours and trouvères. Despite this flaw, Kissin still managed to play one of the most problematic and unidiomatic piano works like it was the easiest thing in the world, without changing a single note (unlike Horowitz, whose infamous reworking of Pictures remains controversial to this day).

Understandably, the audience did not let Kissin go without playing an encore, and he generously gave us four. As if the overwhelming virtuosity of Pictures was not enough, the encores were transcendental displays of Romantic pianism. First, he played Balakirev’s arrangement of a Glinka song, “The Lark,” then offered Liszt’s “Rigoletto” paraphrase of Verdi. Both demonstrated the utmost in fluidity and lyricism—in Kissin’s hands, the hideously difficult becomes the sublimely simple, even if the material is third-rate fluff. Scriabin’s D-sharp minor Étude (Op. 8, #12) was next (a nod to Horowitz), followed by an arrangement of waltzes from Johann Strauss’ Die Fledermaus—again, breathtakingly impressive. Still, I can’t help but wonder how much more enjoyable it would have been had Kissin challenged us a little more musically. The warhorses and bon-bon encores were nice, but when will Kissin tour with a work by a living composer or at least an overlooked deceased one? Probably never, and that shouldn’t surprise us, but it would be a testament to his greatness if he actually did.

EVGENY KISSIN

at

Symphony Hall

October 17