Beethoven was not responsible for the popular subtitle of his C sharp minor Sonata, and to suggest that a pianist has failed to make it sufficiently picturesque is unintelligent. He did dub both this and the E flat Sonata quasi una fantasia, however, and some listeners may legitimately feel that Pollini's sternness and furrowed-brow intensity neglect a vital dimension in the music. But even this is less of a criticism than it might seem. Given a burgeoning record catalogue, any interpretative view informed by intelligence and sensitivity is to be welcomed; indeed, a contrast of creative and re-creative temperaments can often be more inspiring than a one-to-one correspondence.
Whatever you think about Pollini's wavelength for Beethoven—and I think it worked marvellously in the late sonatas—there is the question of how effectively it transmits. Much of this latest recital carries the usual Pollini guarantee of first-rate articulation and rhythmic stability. Surprisingly that is not the case with the broken chords which set the tone for the first allegro in the E flat Sonata (track 1, from 2'48''). Elsewhere in this work controlled intensity of line begins to feel more like anxious technical tightrope-walking. And it disturbs me that after a driving finale, viewed as though with the hindsight of the Appassionata Sonata, the brief return of the slow movement theme seems so unaffected by what has preceded it.
It makes a lot of sense to consider the storm of the C sharp minor Sonata's finale to be latent in the darkness of its first movement, and thus to invest every quaver of the latter with meaning. This is all well and good, but the resolutely close-up view does make it difficult for Pollini to project the broader harmonic flow without forcing. Articulation in the allegretto is neglectful of Beethoven's markings—for no artistic reason I can discern—and the finale itself would be far more effective for respecting the basic piano dynamic.
There is relaxation of a kind in the D major Sonata, though it does sound more like circumspection at times, and once again Pollini's grip on the structure is so tight it can hardly breathe. Best here is the intellectual exhilaration of the Scherzo. But overall my impression, reinforced by the close but realistic recording, is of an interrogation of the music rather than a truly sympathetic interpretation. And I am not convinced that that was Pollini's intention.'