''The ocean is constantly changing; it never stays the same. '' So says the consistently charismatic Jascha Heifetz about his favourite haunt, the Californian beach. We see him in a variety of situations: strolling among the incoming tides, tending to his electric car, performing Dvorak and Handel with pupils, in recital (glancing anxiously at Brooks Smith at the end of a cadenza that marks the pianist's return), and conducting a performance of Bruch's Scottish Fantasy. His manner is invariably nonchalant, undemonstrative, even indifferent; he might raise an eyebrow, or sneak a glance at the balcony, or even smile a little. He gives nothing away – but then why should he? It is all there in his playing: a tough, luminous, hotly communicative stream of sound, unmistakable in its tonal purity and emotional intensity.
''Bach Chaconne, Take One'', says producer Jack Pfeiffer, and the subsequent performance is both immediate and definitive: a superb reading, and hardly a wit less assured than Heifetz's mono recording. The programme (made in 1970) starts with five 'encores', each one announced without ceremony: high-powered Mozart (though with a beguiling trio), witty Prokofiev, tender Debussy and Rachmaninov and then bluesy Gershwin. To watch the mechanics of Heifetz's technique is to witness supreme confidence, absolute control and lightning reflexes. And yet no amount of physical imitation could approximate what is in effect a truly unique tone. Even the Scottish Fantasy – cut though it is and routinely accompanied – displays countless instances of vintage Heifetzian magic.
Only the Bruch is entirely new to the British catalogue; the other items appear – on CD – in RCA's epic Heifetz Collection. The sound is fairly acceptable, the performances are remarkable and Heifetz is the focal point throughout (there are no shots of individual orchestral players). It is a notable supplement to Heifetz's biggest claim on posterity – his magnificent RCA discography. RC