Martin Bernheimer is too kind ("The Lennie Bernstein Show Comes to L.A.," Aug. 11).
Last Saturday night at Royce Hall, I was witness to a most unabashed display of self-indulgence. It was as if Leonard Bernstein was an entire "silent movie," acting, and dancing each part, and the New York Philharmonic was there to accompany his performance.
At one point, during the Tchaikovsky Sixth, we thought he would use his baton as a pole vault across the orchestra in order to hit that one perfect sound in the percussion section.
The most fitting end to that evening would have been for Bernstein to be suspended by wire, gaily flying through Royce, with the adoring audience singing "Hooray for Hollywood."