A Gala Opening That Wasn’t Quite : MUSIC REVIEW : The Bowl Season Officially Begins With Philharmonic Business as Usual

The hopeful hypesters in residence billed the concert Tuesday night at Hollywood Bowl as a “Gala Opening.”

Well. . . .

Trusty Webster defines gala as “a festive occasion.” This one wasn’t, unless one gauges festivity in terms of a couple of flower pots adorning the stage apron.

Everyone defines opening as a beginning. This was the seventh concert of the summer at our gigantic amphitheater in Cahuenga Pass.

The only striking difference between the latest program by the Los Angeles Philharmonic under guest-conductor Andrew Litton and the earlier programs under guest-conductor Gerard Schwarz involved the top ticket price: $65 now, $40 then.

No, for most practical purposes, this was business as usual under the stars and airplanes. Rather predictable business. Rather boring business. Another opening, another show.

Litton, the 35-year-old maestro-to-be of the Dallas Symphony, is a solid technician. He is good at keeping the orchestra together. He isn’t so good, unfortunately, at making the music interesting, or at keeping it moving.

On this occasion, he chose a ponderous agenda of works by Berlioz, Beethoven and--argh--Rachmaninoff, and he conducted it ponderously. When he and the ever-responsive orchestra reached the ultimate cadence--at 11 p.m. and not a moment too soon--the communal picnickers mustered dutiful applause. It seemed to reflect relief as much as enthusiasm.

The evening began with an unusually pompous performance of the “Star-Spangled Banner.” This ritual of de rigueur patriotism may not stir all hearts at concert time, but it often serves as a useful preview of coming interpretive attractions. In this case Litton’s overstretched tempo and overstressed sentiment told all.

Berlioz’s “Carnaval Romain” overture followed, its excitement muted, its bravura measured.

The central soloist was Yefim Bronfman, who approached Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto in a leisurely spirit of wispy introspection. The precious sigh-and-whisper approach may make poetic sense in the intimacy of a bona-fide concert hall. In the not-so-great outdoors, however, it makes the noble rhetoric teeter on the brink of evaporation.

One had to admire the pianist’s indomitable sensitivity. At the same time, one had to worry about a Largo that threatened to unwind, about pianissimo passages that had to be taken on faith, and about indulgent exaggerations that brought pathos perilously close to bathos.

Litton’s tendency to slow down whenever a transition loomed did little to bolster tension.

After intermission came Rachmaninoff’s treacly Second Symphony. All of it.

Litton ignored the kind cuts favored by other conductors and actually sanctioned by the composer. He luxuriated for an endlessly meandering hour in well-played mush and gush while many in the audience squirmed. The exodus before the last movement was startling (and it made one wonder how the escapees intended to extricate their cars from the stack-locked parking lots).

Incidental intelligence:

* The nefarious amplification system at the Bowl continues to undergo modifications. “This year,” the official announcement proclaimed, “we will incorporate a miking and mixing approach derived from a fusion of recording and reinforcement techniques.” The new speaker systems introduce “ ‘wave guide’ high-frequency components in place of traditional horn designs.”

The precise meaning of the technical data eludes at least one innocent listener. Nevertheless, it can be reported that the sound encountered at the rear of the lower-box section seemed more mellow and less distorted than on some past occasions. It also seemed a bit dull and distant.

The piano lacked presence. The symphonic choirs were unnaturally separated. One was conscious of music emanating from speakers at the side of the stage, not from the instruments.

* Distraction statistics: five aeronautical intrusions, one medical emergency, one noisy baby.

* Official attendance figure: 9,213 at the start.