Karajan was a child of the sound recording era, but he never forgot that performing music also has its own visual dynamic, the conductor not the least of it. He applied his substantial wealth (and ego) to filming his own performances, especially later in life - often in a highly dramatic and self-glorifying style, frequently revealing, as Michael Oliver put it in The Classical Video Guide, 'misty views of the North Face of Karajan'. And yet, at this remove, Sony's first DVD releases from that extensive library, all mastered in both stereo and Dolby Digital 5.1 surround-sound, also reveal a great deal of why that vanity was justified.
His Beethoven Choral Symphony is as smooth and machine-turned as one would expect, lacking the verve even of his own earlier versions - though much of their peculiar instrumental spotlighting is left to the camera. The effect is more live, even to some slight slackening of ensemble. But there is a lyricism here which is often compelling in its own right, and a sense of grandeur sadly lacking in many subsequent readings. The second movement, though, is choppy, an impression worsened by constant jump-cutting to the timpani. The third's gravity is more appealing, but rather long and drawn-out, and the opening of the finale similarly does not compel. The soloists are a mixed bunch, Grundheber too baritonal to deliver his appeal with sufficient warmth; Cole is more lyrical, over a rather weightless Turkish march, but the ladies have the best of it. The Singverein's precision enhances the close, but it never quite lifts the spirits as it should. Sound and vision are decent, and presentation good - although the notes, as throughout this series, are skimpy, and exclusively on the disc.
The New Year's Day Concert in Vienna, 1987, well recorded and directed by Humphrey Burton, makes a much better impression. Karajan, ageing and visibly in pain from his back, made a great effort for an occasion that meant a lot to him, as a 'native son'. One feels that the Vienna players are nervous of him, but during his beloved Zigeunerbaron Overture a smile lightens that crocodilian countenance, and lingers throughout a luminous Spharen-Klange. Things warm up considerably, and if lighter pieces like the Fledermaus Overture and Annen-Polka are rather straight-faced, they're delivered with such caressing elegance that one hardly cares. The customary kitschy TV intrusions are few - the Riding School's white stallions (at Karajan's insistence) and, in a masterful Kaiser-Walzer, the Opera Ballet beneath the Belvedere's chandeliers. Battle delivers a graceful Fruhlingsstimmen, and Karajan plays along graciously with the customary detonation Unter Donner und Blitz. After a superb Blauen Donau, he even directs the happy-clappy audience in the Radetzky-Marsch - a genial end to a poignant concert.
For the opening of the Berlin Philharmonic's new Chamber Music Hall that year he mounted Vivaldi's Four Seasons, featuring his former protegee Anne-Sophie Mutter. Even with reduced forces and a more appropriately 'chamber' sound this still comes over as sumptuous in a way that will curdle any authenticist's blood, the tempos relaxed, the string tone warm and heavy, although lightened by Mutter's crackling energy. Karajan's own harpsichord contribution is rather muted, and this further overbalances the sound. None the less, it is possible to look past what are, ultimately, matters of taste, and find fine and affectionate music-making from all concerned; and the recording is quite good. It is, however, a safe recommendation only for Karajan fans.
Much more to my personal taste was his Dvorak New World Symphony, recorded in 1985 in the audienceless Musikverein. Again, much of the visceral excitement of his earlier versions is smoothed out here, but not, thankfully, the great sweep and surge of the Adagio. The old mystery is there at the beginning of the Largo, the cor anglais 'Goin' Home' solo suitably haunting, especially echoed in the horns. The Scherzo begins stodgily, but swiftly gathers momentum, though never quite enough; but the Allegro has a fine ringing start, and carries one along with flow and warmth to a properly majestic and poetic conclusion. The Vienna playing isn't as polished as Berlin's, but that almost suits Dvorak's touch of rusticity. At 43 minutes this is a pretty short disc, but an enjoyable one, and well recorded both visually and sonically, with a fine sense of presence.'