To mark Beethoven’s 2020 anniversary year, Boris Giltburg set himself the task of filming all 32 Beethoven piano sonatas in collaboration with film-maker Stewart French, which meant learning the 23 sonatas not already in his repertoire. The audio soundtracks from the films have gradually appeared in streaming and download formats, with each movement stemming from a single unedited performance.

Reviewing Vols 4-6 in this series (3/21), Patrick Rucker understandably took issue with what he felt was distorted and boxy engineering. The sound here seems fuller-bodied than before, and headphone listening helps pinpoint the piano’s position in a small concert venue as perceived from ideal orchestra seats. Still, loud rapid passages continue to convey a monochrome and monotonous patina, not to mention the pianist’s occasional heavy breathing.

That’s a pity, because Giltburg’s best playing reveals a genuinely vibrant, creative and inherently musical approach to these well-worn scores. The Appassionata’s outer movements are spiced with fanciful inflections, along with a forward sweep that befits Beethoven’s improvisatory impetus. The little Op 78 Sonata’s first movement features poetic harmonic underlinings but the second movement’s sped-up two-note phrases and overpointed détaché playing suck the music’s wittiness dry. I’ve never heard Op 79’s Andante sing out so mellifluously in the digital era, but why such a slow and enervated Vivace finale?

Giltburg’s Les adieux works best in his admittedly affettuoso yet winningly playful first movement, and least in his choppy, notey rendition of the ‘Return’ third movement. The pianist reduces Op 90’s first movement to pianistically thrilling yet musically discombobulated effects: an all-too-obvious ritard here, a hammered-out accent there, plus coy pianissimo dips that Liberace would have loved. The lyrical second movement, if more tasteful, lacks repose and simplicity in the manner of Richter or Moravec.

However, Giltburg admirably disciplines his wilful tendencies with an absorbing Op 101. Sometimes the pianist presses ahead in the treacherous March (by this, he presages the second movement of Schumann’s C major Fantasie), yet such is his deft handling of the precarious balances and rapid leaps that you really don’t care. Unfortunately, Op 101’s virtues don’t spill over into Giltburg’s alternately picky and shapeless Hammerklavier (he favours the A natural rather than the ‘inspired misprint’ A sharp right before the first movement’s recapitulation – not that it matters). At least he keeps the finale’s fugue buoyant and alive.

If certain aspects of Giltberg’s Op 109 come off sounding lightweight (the third movement’s contrapuntal variations and less-than-magical trills, the sedate Prestissimo), his innate grace and suppleness hold interest. These qualities, however, are realised with greater breadth, drama and emotional involvement throughout Op 110, which is one of the entire cycle’s high points.

Granted, Gilburg’s earlier studio Op 111 (10/15) benefits from cleaner, more focused engineering, yet the new recording’s relatively diffuse sound picture imparts a resonant haze that some listeners may feel more in keeping with the music’s ‘otherworldly’ subtext (think of the 1932 Schnabel HMV recording or Pollini’s recent live remake – DG, 4/20). In any event, Giltburg retains his earlier Arietta’s assiduous tempo relationships and sustained beauty, yet now holds the long melodic lines firmly in focus within the long chains of trills: a fulfilling conclusion to an uneven cycle.