Remembering the palmy days of RCA Red Seal, this two-disc DVD video and audio CD, part of the ‘Legendary Visions’ series, refreshes the story of Artur Rubinstein. Ranking high among the ‘first-raters’ (his own suitably unapologetic estimate), Rubinstein was, again in his own words, ‘born for the piano’, perfecting his art to become one of the greatest of pianists and, arguably, the greatest of all Chopin pianists.

John Rubinstein (the pianist’s son) is the loving presenter, but the lion’s share of the commentary goes to Rubinstein himself. Recalling his early acclaim in Paris, he recalls how his audiences mistook his enviable temperament and facility for finished genius (‘I got away with murder’). The Americans took a dimmer view of what they saw as superficiality and a 1906 tour (given in the wake of Horowitz’s triumph) was not a success. Lack of practice and a hedonistic lifestyle took their toll and, bereft of career or money, he attempted suicide. Later, his unconditional acceptance of life coincided with his realisation that he could become a great pianist rather than a flamboyant talent. During a lengthy sabbatical he refined and clarified his playing (‘slowly I became a pianist’) and finally emerged to take the music world by storm.

He also made his political mark, returning a decoration given to him by Mussolini and, in 1947, cancelling London concerts as a protest at the restriction of Jewish emigration to Palestine. To the end he refused to play in Germany because there could be members of the audience related to those who murdered his family (no Rubinstein survived the Nazi occupation of Poland).

There are telling tributes from his producer, Max Wilcox, and Daniel Barenboim, but most of all there is the playing. On the second disc we hear Chopin of a robust eloquence that few if any have ever approached. Has the A flat Polonaise ever had its proud and dazzling colours unfurled more commandingly? In the First Ballade and Third Scherzo there is ample evidence that his playing grew ever more spacious and richly inclusive, less febrile, over the years (no question here of the Chopin of popular legend: the frail poet dipping his pen in moonlight). Chopin apart, it would be hard to imagine Poulenc’s Mouvements perpétuels more elegantly or piquantly performed, and if the recordings are close they do full justice to Rubinstein’s sumptuous tone and his legendary singing legato. Such inimitable poetry and grandeur make these discs cherishable.