Last night the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra, with the help of the Rochester Oratorio Society, officially re-opened the Eastman Theatre, and rechristened it Kodak Hall. The program lived up to the momentous occasion, with the debut of a spectacular new work written explicitly for the night, and the performance of a bombastic standby that punctuated the evening.

In just 91 days our grandest local performance venue was made even more grand, with new lobby space and seating areas, improvements to the heating and cooling system, replacement of all of the seats in the orchestra level (the new ones are firm, but comfortable), and most noticeably, the addition of box seats to the orchestra and mezzanine levels. The design and construction teams did an amazing job matching the boxes to the original architecture, and in my opinion they really do add to the aesthetics of the venue, rather than detract. In other words, I want one.

After opening remarks by RPO president Charlie Owens and UR's Joel Seligman, the music started with the national anthem, led off by a drum roll performed on a snare that was played during the original opening of the Eastman Theatre in 1922. That was a classy touch. After that the RPO launched into the world premiere of a new work commissioned specifically for the event, "Geo," composed by Eastman School of Music Dean Douglas Lowry. The piece was meant to pay homage to, and represent the life of, the man ultimately responsible for everything the audience saw that night: George Eastman.

Prior to the concert I wondered how someone could capture George Eastman's story musically. Lowry obviously had the answer; "Geo" is a fantastic piece that really does encapsulate Eastman and his world perfectly. It sounds unmistakably American, of the 20th century, and most important, cinematic - appropriate for the guy who gave the world film. The piece also clearly reflected the storyline Lowry included in the program, with a clarion call awakening Eastman's spirit, inviting him to take a look at the improvements to his beloved theater, followed by a waltz with the spirit of his mother, and then a sonic exploration of music evoking the majesty of film. The work featured moments of triumph and sadness, both fitting for Eastman's life, and I felt as though the dynamic ending was almost a call to action to the audience, as if to say, "Look around you at what one man did for this city. It's amazing, but lots of work remains to be done."

Following intermission, the RPO concluded the program with Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, also featuring the Oratorio Society and soloists Barbara Shirvis, Jami Tyzik, Charles Reid, and Kevin Deas. There's really not much more anyone can write about the Ninth Symphony, and of course the RPO played it brilliantly. But I will say that, compared to the vigor with which the orchestra attacked "Geo," it almost felt as though the Beethoven piece lacked some energy. At least, until the final movement, when the orchestra, the chorus, and the soloists all belted it out.

The big question about the new Eastman - excuse me, Kodak Hall (that's going to take some getting used to) - was the acoustics. Depending on who you talked to, opinions on the acoustics in the original Eastman were somewhere between good and complicated. Now, following the renovations, the shape of the theater has changed, which has had an impact on how sound travels through it.

My seat last night was on the right-most row in the front-center orchestra section, and things sounded crystal clear. The horns in particular enveloped me, and it sounded as though the bass was sitting right next to my ear. However, I did find myself straining at times to hear the upper-register strings during "Geo," so I did a little experiment, and switched seats with a friend during intermission. Sitting in the left orchestra section during the Beethoven, I found the reverse situation to be true: the strings dominated, while the horns took on a secondary role.

Part of this is unavoidable: you're obviously going to hear more of what you're sitting in front of. And from both of my seats I had no problem appreciating the orchestra as a whole - it's not like you couldn't hear certain sections at all. The only time that was true was when the Oratorio Society joined in toward the end of the Ninth Symphony. When the entire orchestra was on blast, I could not hear a note the ROS was singing; it was as if dozens of mouths were opening wide but nothing was coming out.