No danger of the concert hall being deserted, as I speculated earlier. The hall had a pretty good crowd for Victor Stanislavsky, whom I assume is no relation to the famous Russian acting teacher. He came out in a shiny gray satin-y shirt that reminded me of this.
His program bored me, not to put too fine a point upon it. He played Scarlatti, Mozart, and Schumann's Humoreske, a long, sprawling work that fell apart. I tried to find something to latch onto: Tone, technique, temperament, suitability for the idiom. All of it was fine, none of it was exceptional. Even the thorny Capriccios by the late Gyorgy Ligeti that ended the program couldn't make any sort of impression on me.
I worry that instead of the pianist, it might be me having listened to too much music in too short a time. If my ears have gone dull this early in the competition, that's a bad sign for me. I hope that's not the case.