Menuhin agreed to a series of filmed
performances for the director Paul Gordon,
to be made in Charlie Chaplin’s studios
in Hollywood in 1947 and here are the
results. The centrepiece was the Mendelssohn
Concerto but there were also genre and
encore pieces with accompanists Adolf
Baller and even, on one film, a moonlighting
Doráti.
Though Menuhin later
downplayed any philanthropic impulse
in bringing music to the cinema for
those for whom the concert hall was
distant, forbidding or too expensive,
it was clear that Gordon had a willingness
to broaden the ambit of the concert
violinist. There had always been some
interest, from the earliest days, to
see opera and concert musicians on film,
even when the technology didn’t allow
for sound. Vitaphone, which synchronised
film with a separately recorded disc,
later had some real cachet. But by the
time Menuhin recorded these filmed pieces
musical biopics had been undertaken
and things were considerably more sophisticated.
The format was a Hollywood
Gothic title, prefacing the work. Naturally
the director’s name is prominent. In
the touching and enjoyable interview
that Menuhin gave to Humphrey Burton
in 1997 he has pertinent and revealing
things to say about the casualness of
the proceedings, about its "let’s
go" simplicity. One of the more
entertaining jobs for obsessives might
consist in trying to fit names to the
faces in the West Coast orchestra assembled
that day. Is it my imagination or isn’t
that Eleanor Aller of the (future) Hollywood
String Quartet leading the (small) cello
section?
There seem to have
been three cameras for the concerto
– retakes were prohibitively expensive,
not least for the band and union rules
– and there’s really only one clumsy
edit or reel change throughout. Menuhin’s
face is rather mask-like, concentrated,
unostentatious, almost immobile beneath
the arm pits with his right bow arm
very high (he comments on this
feature in the interview). The lack
of extraneous gesture is not cold but
is concentrated to a powerful degree.
No knee bends or perambulation from
him – current contortionists please
note.
To get over the problem
of camera angles and sustaining interest
some tricksy shots were used – high
angles, reverse angles, from the cameraman’s
crouch up - though looking back Menuhin
felt these films were "too early
for their time" and whilst they
tried to do new things didn’t give employ
artifice to "make it interesting
enough." Menuhin was filmed standing
so far behind Baller in Brahms that
the unfortunate pianist is constantly
turning his head round to synchronise
chording.
In the F sharp minor
Dance Doráti only makes a visual
appearance toward the end – very frustrating
as he’s having a whale of a time ignoring
the printed score and imagining himself
back in Budapest in a cimbalom and fiddle
café band. Menuhin appears in
shirtsleeves in a couple of these pieces
– clearly Sarasate was considered suitable.
For the Habanera Menuhin stands, back
to us, facing a studio window, which
opened out to a painted park. He turns
around with agonizing slowness. One
thing for admirers; the Bazzini Calabrese,
an E minor Waltz, is entirely new to
his discography. We watch him in the
Burton interview listening and watching
his playing, his earlier self, from
fifty years before, something I find
touching. He also pays deserved and
eloquent tribute to Baller, a long-time
accompanist, whose hands had been broken
by Nazi thugs, but whose recovery was
total.
It’s not true that
these films will unlock the Menuhin
secret to those yet to be captivated
by it. But they are fine documents,
genuinely instructive (note the left
hand thumb position in the reverse shots)
about the mechanics of playing the violin,
revealing Menuhin’s warmth and humanity
and opening up a little known corner
of musical performance on film. I have
to say it exceeded my expectations and
I enjoyed it greatly.
Jonathan Woolf
Yehudi Menuhin (violin) with accompaniments as
above 
EUROARTS
DVD 2054618 [91:00] 
