The Virtuoso Pianist

The Virtuoso Pianist, an organization run by producer Frank Bell, has an initial catalog of nearly a dozen DVDs, mostly of concert programs originally made for the A Network. The three that have been offered for review all feature well-known pianists in familiar repertoire (indeed, the Chopin First Ballade shows up on all three), presented in perfectly adequate sound, with video quality that's decent for the period and direction that generally gives a good sense of the pianists' fingers and facial expressions (a few fancy double and triple exposures aside). Packaging is plain: there are no program booklets (although Bell offers a spoken introduction to Bolet's program and conducts interviews with Rosen and Moravec); except for the Rosen, the discs come in plain slimline cases with no printed information. The DVDs have no onscreen menus, either, although they have plenty of internal access points. All in all, then, bare-boned production values, but that shouldn't interfere with the listening or viewing pleasure of any but the fussiest pianophiles. For the record, the Rosen and Bolet have been broadcast often, but the Moravec (filmed without an audience) has not.

By far the most impressive of these recitals, though, is the one by the pianist with the slightest reputation. Moravec certainly has his admirers (in 2003, Bernard Jacobson called him “the greatest pianist playing today”); but for reasons that probably stem from his modest persona more than from anything in his playing, his fame remains limited. This DVD will not have the wide circulation necessary to change that, but it does have playing of sufficient quality to justify his high regard among his fans. In a sense, he's a no-nonsense pianist: his interpretations are more notable for their intelligence and integrity than for their shock value. But if he could be viewed as the opposite of, say, Pogorelich, he's actually just as far from a pianist like Brendel, whose resistance to spectacle so often turns to a stoic chill. Moravec's playing, in contrast, has a strong personality, one that I can't quite describe without resorting to paradoxes.

What are its qualities? A soft solidity that comes from a burnished tone without a trace of fat in its makeup (the Brahms is especially striking in this regard); a kaleidoscopic steadiness that comes from a nuanced and ever-shifting timbral palette that never turns fussy or garish (listen to his mesmerizing account of the Sarabande at the center of Pour le piano); a subtle vitality that emerges from well-sprung rhythms that never turn aggressive; a discreet virtuosity that results from an agility entirely without superficial brilliance. Moravec is in no way a shy or retiring pianist. He's certainly more impulsive than Rosen (much less Arrau) in the Chopin First Ballade; and if you like your Debussy on the frail side, you may be startled by his stormy grandeur in the opening Prelude. Yet there's always a breathtaking eloquence to his playing — it's never dispassionate, but it's always reasoned.

All in all, then, this is a strong salvo from a welcome new label. A mixed bag, perhaps, but everything is worth attention, and the Moravec recital is a real treasure.