When Garrick Ohlsson began his “little night music” recital this summer at the Mostly Mozart Festival, he apologized in advance for not programming any of Wolfgang’s pieces, stating that he had “been living with Beethoven.” This new domestic arrangement allowed him to focus on the 32 piano sonatas and launch a series of performances including explorations of the entire cycle. At Alice Tully Hall on Sunday afternoon, Mr. Ohlsson offered four of these masterpieces intoned with a decidedly new approach.

The music critic Robert Schumann invented a device while on staff at the Neue Zeitschrift fuer Musik that allowed him to express himself clearly when he was of two minds about a concert. He invited two other reviewers, Messrs Eusebius and Florestan, to argue a point-counterpoint analysis of the performance in question. The fact that these men were products of his fertile imagination was but a plus.

Had Schumann been at Tully this day, he might have let loose his alter egos on this fascinating recital. Mr. Eusebius would have argued with impunity that Mr. Ohlsson displayed the most impressive technique and a penchant for note perfect accuracy that was positively astounding. He would have praised the clarity of the individual lines, the definition of each and every note stuck so perfectly in its exact center, the profound sense of architecture Mr. Ohlsson mapped out for all of us to absorb. Quite rightly, he would have loved this presentation.

Mr. Florestan, on the other hand, would have pointed out the lack of emotion in this style of play. He would have mentioned Mr. Ohlsson’s rather Baroque approach to dynamic contrast that sometimes amounted to pure negation. He might also have noted that, after a while, this rather mechanical approach could be a bit dull, even soporific. With impunity, he could have asked what was really the point of such phlegmatic declamation. He would have been absolutely correct in disliking this presentation.

I agree with both gentlemen. Mr. Ohlsson was obviously making a point, here and considering his prodigious knowledge and previously demonstrated mastery, he requires our attention. It was no accident that he chose two of the most emotional of Beethoven’s compositions, the “Pathetique” and the “Appassionata” for this demonstration. On the surface, to state that he played these pieces with no emotional freight onboard would seem to damn him to the role of a cipher. But his quite amazing technique and inflexible sense of clarity made for arresting listening.

Besides the two famous sonatas, he also included two of the lesser known, the F Major, Op. 10, No. 2 and the incredible B-Flat Major, Op. 22. Beethoven loved the latter piece, calling it a “Grand Sonata” and often performing it himself to show off his virtuosity. Mr. Ohlsson’s challenging approach led to considerations of how the composer himself would have performed the work.

The best performance of the day was the Adagio con molto expressione, whose exotic, almost chromatic theme was developed unhurriedly and with revelatory precision.

The F minor, Op. 57 was this day not ideally suited to carry the nickname “Appassionata.” Only a true master of dexterity could get away with this realization of the final Presto. After an entire concert defined by a sauntering pace, Mr. Ohlsson adopted a breakneck tempo for the last section, making this listener believe he could not possibly sustain such alacrity in the final few dozen measures. He did not; he instead played the remarkable ending even faster and with astounding accuracy. Even in a recital eschewing emotion, there was still room for showmanship. And what did I think? Well, I am of two minds.