MUSIC REVIEW : At Philharmonic, an Intense Young Man from Milan

His name is Daniele Gatti. You will hear it again.

The little-heralded maestro from Milan, who made his debut with the Los Angeles Philharmonic at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on Thursday, looks like the figment of some casting director’s delirium.

Gatti is intense and lithe, dark and handsome. He broods elegantly.

He exudes authority on the podium, even when he fails to coax maximum precision from an unfamiliar orchestra. He exults in romantic passions, yet respects the danger of expressive excess. He seems to savor a pianissimo hush more than a fortissimo roar, but he still gives feverish climaxes their due.

At the height of agitation, his right hand knows what his right hand is doing. Not all baton virtuosi can make that claim these days. He isn’t afraid to use his left hand, moreover, to conduct the audience--silencing inappropriate applause here, a premature ovation there.

And he just turned 30.

For his introductory program, he chose--or accepted--the sort of agenda normally associated with the pop aesthetic of Hollywood Bowl. The first half was dominated by the slush-pump rhetoric of the Sibelius Violin Concerto, a vehicle for Shlomo Mintz. The second half was devoted to the hum-along agonies and ecstasies of Tchaikovsky’s “Pathetique.”

Despite some fleeting mishaps, Gatti rode both warhorses to victory. His abiding sense of urgency banished all thoughts of banality. Well, almost all thoughts.

In the Sibelius showpiece, he provided an aptly muted, abundantly lyrical accompaniment for Mintz, who obviously wanted to stress the value of refinement at every possible turn. Other violinists may approach the inherent cliches with greater flamboyance, but few can match the velvet of this violinist’s tone, the suavity of his phrasing or the subtlety of his dynamic scale.

In the opening Adagio of the Tchaikovsky symphony, Gatti made the orchestra sing with soulful eloquence. He persuasively accentuated the grazia in the subsequent Allegro con grazia. He let things crackle and pop in an Allegro molto vivace that accelerated drastically and dangerously as the final climax loomed. Safety was restored, however, with the understatement of the tragic finale.

Essentially, this was bel-canto Tchaikovsky, which need not be an oxymoron. Melodic persuasion took precedence over rumbling opulence. Although Gatti’s stylistic perspective may not be totally authentic, it takes nothing for granted and makes good sense on its own eager terms.

The only novelty (the term is used advisedly) of the evening came at the beginning, with the Philharmonic premiere of Puccini’s “Capriccio Sinfonico.” Written in 1883, when the composer was only 24, it offers startling previews of coming operatic attractions--including lengthy passages later recycled for the opening of “La Boheme.”

There isn’t much independent substance in this crafty 13-minute curio, but there is a lot of nostalgic charm. Gatti conducted it with proper verismo flair, undaunted by occasionally fuzzy orchestral responses.

A surprisingly sparse crowd greeted the stranger on the podium as he opened his one-week introductory stand. Attendance, one suspects, will improve when Gatti returns.

Anyone for a new matinee idol?