How much of a factor is the age of the performer when interpreting the classics? After achieving the requisite level of technical competence — which can take any varying number of years depending on the practitioner — at what level of musical and life experience is an artist ready for meaningful communication?

These questions seemed particularly relevant Sunday as a young pianist from Brooklyn, Simone Dinnerstein, presented two works that deal specifically with the interpretive dilemmas of ecstatic youth and contemplative age during her recital as part of the Accolades series at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Robert Schumann wrote Kinderszenen (Scenes of Childhood) for his wife Clara because he recognized and cherished in her a childlike streak. He composed approximately 30 of these miniatures and presented her with “a dozen or so” (there are actually 13) as a gift. Although they may evoke childhood, they are hardly child’s play, and take a musician of prodigious talent to present them accurately. In a nod to the simple pleasures of youth, however, only one, “Almost Too Serious,” is in an unusual key, in this case G Sharp minor.

Ms. Dinnerstein was up to the task technically, but did not infuse these pieces with that special ingenuous charm. Her Träeumerei (Dreaming) was decidedly the Vladimir Horowitz version, very far from the Schumann tempo as written. Horowitz, who literally influenced actual changes in the piano music of Rachmaninoff, has had such a profound effect upon the imagination with his espousal of this piece as an encore, that few modern pianists dare to restore the original composer’s much more brisk tempo. Ms. Dinnerstein traversed the baker’s dozen without incident, but ultimately I found her realizations downright dull.

Any attempt at the final piano sonata of Beethoven by a youthful performer is probably doomed to failure, even though the work itself has two major connections to the composer’s own formative years. First, the development of the first movement of the Sonata No. 32 in C minor is remarkably similar to that of the very first theme of the master’s very first sonata, Op. 2, No. 1. Second, Beethoven walked around with this ultimate opening theme in his head for over 20 years, toying with introducing it into the violin sonatas from Opus 30,but not bringing it to fruition until this final effort. Most composers mellow with age, but Beethoven became more radical — just think of the dissonant ending measures of the Symphony No. 9.

Here in the 32nd Sonata, Beethoven finally gets up the nerve to introduce a theme with a predominant diminished fourth. One might think that a youthful insouciance is in order, but many before Ms. Dinnerstein have tried and failed to pull this off. There is simply too much wisdom, too much worldweariness for an aspirant to grasp.

Additionally, Ms. Dinnerstein had some technical problems in the Beethoven, not the least of which was a very weak opening statement. Someone made the rather bizarre decision to offer this full-length program without intermission and it was perfectly understandable that the recitalist was simply tired at this point — I know I was. In any case, she went off the rails a few times and this did little to strengthen her interpretation, which included a rather odd, bluesy restatement of the theme in the second movement.

She was much more successful in the French Suite No. 5 in G Major of J. S. Bach. Adopting a very baroque approach albeit with a modern piano, Ms. Dinnerstein made a clear and powerful personal statement. Tempi and dynamic levels were quite homogenous in the old style. I especially appreciated her quiet eloquence and disciplined refusal to emphasize or editorialize in the more modern manner. A measured and dignified approach, this rendition still took into consideration that these movements are indeed dances. Ms. Dinnerstein was perfectly willing to infuse them with an infectious sense of rhythm even as she kept them at a low decibel level. Her Bach playing is very graceful and this compensated for any peccadillos in the Classical or Romantic repertoire.

All began with a clangorous realization of Aaron Copland’s Piano Variations, a derivative work from the “let’s all sound like Anton Webern” craze of the young Turks of the 1930s. Here it seemed Ms. Dinnerstein was simply banging and pounding as loud as she could and riding that pedal like there was no tomorrow, but, to be fair, the bad taste therein exhibited needs to be laid at the feet of the composer rather than the pianist.