Bell Telephone Calling - musical DVDs from Bell Telephone Hour TV show

National Review, Sept 30, 2002 by Jay Nordlinger

When Casadesus has finished, he introduces -- in his thick French accent -- his wife, Gaby, and his son, Jean, who will sit down with him to play a movement from the Bach concerto for three pianos (keyboards, we should say). So, la famille Casadesus occupies three grand pianos, sprawling out on the stage of Studio 8-H, with Voorhees far in the back, looking anxiously over his shoulder. All three Casadesus comport themselves stolidly.

Van Cliburn appeared in September 1960, two years after winning the Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow, and thus earning a ticker-tape parade in Manhattan. Cliburn was 26 when he performed on Bell (at about the time Kennedy and Nixon were having their debates). He shows tremendous ease and confidence in Liszt's arrangement of Schumann's great song "Widmung." And to witness these qualities is poignant, as he seems to have lost them somewhere along the way, in his most unusual, slightly sad career.

In 1963, the 29-year-old Philippe Entremont dropped by for the Allegro vivace from Saint-Saens's Piano Concerto No. 4. He demonstrates his amazing technical facility and marked musicianship. This performance is extraordinarily exciting, and yet eschews bombast. This movement can be a circus, and yet Entremont is too refined for that.

Continuing the theme of Where Are They Now?, we have Lorin Hollander, a sensation of mid century who sort of dropped off the map. He was 15 years old when he appeared on Bell, fresh from a triumph at Carnegie Hall. He plays the Chopin C-sharp-minor waltz with exquisite maturity, and then romps through part of another Saint-Saens concerto.

The final three pianists are Jose Iturbi -- doing Iturbi-ish works, like the Ritual Fire Dance -- Byron Janis, and Grant Johannesen. In a way, given these last two, and Browning, Cliburn, and Hollander, this DVD is a tour of the towering young American pianists of the middle of the century. And it was a laudable era.

The violin DVD? It is equally compelling. Right off, we are reminded -- or told -- that there was a time when Isaac Stern could play, before he became more of a guru and "personality." The year is 1959, and he plays Saint-Saens's Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso. (These are happy DVDs for le grand Camille -- Saint-Saens, that is.) Technically, Stern is rock-solid, and he conveys this music not only nimbly but authoritatively and stylishly -- con slancio.

We then have a rare -- very rare -- opportunity to see as well as hear Zino Francescatti, the consummate French violinist with the lilting Italian name. In a way, he is the violinistic counterpart of Robert Casadesus: same age, same nation, similar (musical) outlook. Maestro Voorhees takes to the piano to accompany Francescatti in an arrangement of Debussy's "Girl with the Flaxen Hair." Francescatti's tone -- masculine, full -- is intimately familiar, even if his face and phphysical presence aren't. After the Debussy, Voorhees walks to the podium, and Francescatti plays that crowd-pleaser from Sarasate, Zigeunerweisen -- yet he does so with astonishing nobility, and not a trace of vulgarity. That was Francescatti.