This is a rather fascinating DVD though its 
                  audience will be confined to confirmed pianophiles and admirers 
                  of the remarkable Ruth Slenczynska. It’s cast in two parts. 
                  The first is a studio broadcast of seven Rachmaninoff Preludes 
                  which, given her youthful association with the composer, is 
                  always of interest. Naturally it’s in unfussy black and white. 
                  The second part is a much more recent 2002 taped interview in 
                  which she talks to camera about her teacher – one of her teachers, 
                  it would be more felicitous to add – Josef Hofmann. The interview 
                  is slightly longer than the concert and even taken together 
                  the DVD doesn’t break the sixty-minute mark. Its compression 
                  will perhaps be disappointing to some, who might have wanted 
                  greater concentration on her pianism. But we can still enjoy 
                  the fruits of that 1963 studio recital.
                
It too has an interview. 
                  I’m sure I should know the craggy interlocutor who welcomes 
                  Slenczynska to his vaguely Versailles chaise. She, in her trademark 
                  Joan of Arc hairdo, wears modest black, with sleeves raised 
                  to the top of the forearms. She plays the C major Op.32 No.1 
                  and then joins the interviewer for a brief reminiscence. I wish 
                  Olin Downes’ silly comments as to her youthful genius had not 
                  been introduced – they weren’t helpful then, were still unhelpful 
                  in 1963 and have remained so ever since. No one wants to be 
                  saddled with that level of expectation – as it will invariably 
                  be thwarted. As she spoke, in a charming and very natural unaffected 
                  way, I was drawn to the ribbon and medal pinned to her top. 
                  Doubtless someone will inform me whence it comes.
                
She talks about 
                  Rachmaninoff, how he taught her to take tea but baulked at actually 
                  formally teaching her the piano, which he did de facto. He apparently 
                  also took a look at the young girl’s hands and pronounced that 
                  she had “overcooked spaghetti fingers.” 
                
Her playing is vital 
                  and lithe. The programme is of her own devising and a “bouquet” 
                  designed to bring out moods and keys. She plays a Baldwin. Most 
                  of the shots are over the right shoulder but there are some 
                  static and revealing shots from the left side of the keyboard. 
                  She stops again after Prelude in G minor and rather nervously, 
                  smilingly addresses the camera. One valuable nugget is the reinforcing 
                  of the vivid pictorialism of Rachmaninoff’s poetic inspirations. 
                  We know of the paintings of course but she notes that he told 
                  her apple trees were an inspiration in one of the E flats.
                
The interview, given 
                  thirty years later, sees her “Joan of Arc” now grey but she 
                  seems otherwise miraculously unchanged, though she was around 
                  seventy-seven at the time. She was four when Hofmann heard her 
                  – she’d heard his astounding Chopin in concert. Her first Mills 
                  College concert was given on a nine foot Steinway but she remains 
                  characteristically modest, human and warm. You imagine that 
                  being with her would be fun – and she says the same of her colleagues 
                  Bolet and Cherkassky whom she seemed especially to like for 
                  their human qualities. She has managed to preserve a child-like 
                  wonder about the people she’s met and her career and she never 
                  misses a chance to praise a colleague – extensively so in the 
                  case of her college friend Samuel Barber.
                
              
The booklet is effectively 
                a single page and there are no other bonuses or features. Spartan 
                perhaps but geared to the specialist. But then VAI is that sort 
                of company and their good work continues here. 
                
                Jonathan Woolf