Worldwide critical opinion is divided on the subject of pianist Olli Mustonen, a controversial young Finnish player who is almost as famous for his onstage histrionics as for his keyboard prowess.

Both are considerable, as Seattle audiences discovered Thursday in Mustonen's debut performance here. The occasion was the Prokofiev Piano Concerto No. 3, a formidable challenge and one of the most-played concertos of the 20th century.

Let's just say we've never heard it quite this way before. With Gerard Schwarz and the orchestra providing carefully tailored accompaniment, Mustonen engaged in his own private ballet with the piano, swirling his arms in circles and conducting the cutoff of his own sustaining pedal. It was an arresting spectacle, to say the least.

It was clear that Mustonen has plenty of technical firepower and a considerable range of colors at the keyboard, but his reading of the concerto was so spiky and fragmentary that all sense of the melodic line was lost. Majestic chords were played instead as pointillist jabs at the keyboard, in an extreme staccato with notes like glancing blows.

Surprisingly, Mustonen used a score and a page turner in a work he's played many times, a concerto that most pianists memorize (it's complicated, but not that complicated).

The evening began with more Prokofiev, the Overture to "War and Peace," and then went on to the evening's main course, the Mahler Symphony No. 4. The orchestra was in top form for this sunny and colorful work, with its spectacular writing for winds and its sumptuous string scoring. Schwarz drew some nicely contrasting phrasing from the players in a performance of dramatic power.

The soprano soloist was Terri Richter, whose fresh, lovely timbre was well suited to the wide compass of her fourth-movement solos. Even her lowest tones flowed easily over the orchestra, with Schwarz adroitly preserving the balance between singer and instrumentalists.

At the end of the evening, as Schwarz recognized the important orchestral solos in the Mahler, principal horn John Cerminaro got a well-deserved ovation. His extended solos were both expert and eloquent, all that the ear could wish for.

Melinda Bargreen: mbargreen@seattletimes.com