Stravinsky, Prokofiev, Scriabin, Rachmaninov, Chopin, Bach, Brahms: Alexis Weissenberg - Classic Archive

Weissenberg was at the beginning of his substantial international career in these films, mostly made by French television in the 1960s. The one exception is a 1965 version of Stravinsky’s Three Movements from Petrouchka renowned in its time for attempting to mirror the music’s rhythms and moods. Directed by Åke Falck and filmed in a Stockholm studio, the camera is a creative partner with composer and pianist. So all kinds of odd angles are employed. If you want to see what Weissenberg’s chin looks like from the vantage point of the keyboard, here’s your chance. Lighting and backgrounds change often, but there’s an element of art-house kitsch to the film that today seems dated. In a bonus track, Weissenberg speaks about how the film was made and the difficulties of matching finger movements to the prerecorded sound track while he "played" the work on a specially built silent piano, whose inner plumbing is an important visual element here. As for Weissenberg’s playing, this difficult piece is red meat for a virtuoso of his caliber and he’s predictably impressive, although the piano tone can get glassy in the treble and the considerable pounding the piano gets can leave you feeling pummeled. A wild ride perhaps, but a worthwhile one. The remainder of the solo part of the program consists of Weissenberg favorites: an example of Age of Iron Prokofiev via his Sonata No.3, a Scriabin Nocturne that shows the pianist’s lyric side, a Chopin set offering well-played, interpretively squeaky-clean pianism that needs more tonal bloom than the various engineers could supply at the time. Weissenberg programmed a lot of Bach and some of his best playing comes in the Chromatic Fantasy (here shorn of the Fugue). Bach that looks filmed in a dark celler at midnight, Myra Hess’ famed transcription of Jesu, joy of man’s desiring gets a steel-fingered rendition. The biggest piece on the disc, Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 2, with the French Radio Orchestra led by a heavily perspiring George Prêtre, features grainy video and compromised sound that should have been better for its 1969 date. But pianophiles will be interested in this record of a famed virtuoso at his peak. --Dan Davis