Between 1971 and 1976 Humphrey Burton directed filmed concerts of Bernstein conducting the nine Mahler symphonies, along with Das Lied von der Erde and the Adagio from the unfinished Tenth. Previous VHS and laserdisc incarnations suffered from uneven sound and occasional discrepancies of synchronisation between screen image and audio. Happily, DG’s new DVD edition not only corrects these problems but also refurbishes the soundtracks in vibrant 5.1 surround sound.

Little can be added to the many words written about Bernstein’s intense affinity for and ardent advocacy of Mahler. Indeed, the musicality and specificity of Bernstein’s body language often seems to create parallel universes to each score’s emotional peaks and dynamic valleys. One doesn’t have to turn up the volume to sense the exultation and drive with which Bernstein inspires the huge forces in the Eighth’s first part or the Second’s final pages, gauging the protracted climaxes as he clenches his baton with both hands in long, agonising downward strokes. Watch, too, how Bernstein’s eagle eyes and decisive hands anticipate tricky entries and tempo changes in the Fifth’s second movement and the Seventh’s first with unshakeable authority, or how he instantaneously adjusts dynamics and aligns rhythmic vagaries (the Fourth’s opening measures, the Third’s percussion).

Yet for all of Bernstein’s podium choreography, he also knows when to stand back and simply let the musicians play, casually passing the baton back and forth between his hands, as in stretches of the Third’s and Ninth’s final movements and the Tenth’s Adagio. And, like a benign sovereign, he frequently shoots his players and singers encouraging glances, with plenty of smiles to reward the Vienna Philharmonic’s first-desk soloists, as well as their counterparts in the LSO (No 2) and the Israel Philharmonic (Das Lied). Burton’s visual style works hand-in-glove with Mahler’s orchestration and dynamic game plans, saving close-ups for quiet passages and quick inserts that underline instrumental entrances.

In general, Bernstein’s filmed Mahler interpretations represent a centre-point between the raw excitement characterising much of his pioneering 1960s cycle and his riper, often more expansive late-1980s remakes. On balance, the video Fourth, Fifth, and Ninth are Bernstein’s finest performances of these works. The Fifth is faster and more incisively shaped than his 1987 traversal and the Vienna players get better as the performance progresses. Edith Mathis looks as radiant as she sings in the Fourth’s finale. The Vienna Ninth is notable for the other-worldly stillness and delicacy of the final pages while the central movements bring the sort of abandon he shows in his 1960s Ninth.

A bonus disc provides additional and valuable context. ‘Four Ways to Say Farewell’ combines rehearsal and performance footage of the Ninth as a backdrop to Bernstein’s narration, where he fancifully if plausibly likens the first movement’s long-short rhythmic motive to Mahler’s irregular heartbeat. Rehearsals of the Fifth reveal an even more balletic, gesticulative conductor than the public usually saw, along with important insights into the music’s character (at one point Bernstein cajoles the brass to play ‘like in Italian opera’, pinpointing the influence of Verdi on Mahler that most critics gloss over).

A Das Lied rehearsal shows Christa Ludwig haggling over the breakneck tempo Bernstein sets in the ‘Von der Schönheit’ central section. Then there is Bernstein at the piano, chain-smoking, giving an informal discourse on the work’s symbolism and chamber-like orchestration (‘You have to prepare an entire orchestra as if it was a string quartet’).

In an age when Mahler’s symphonies are ubiquitous, it’s fascinating to witness the missionary zeal of Bernstein more than three decades ago, claiming how his ‘acting out’ the music rather than merely beating time helps him to convince his orchestras of the its greatness. With Bernstein at the helm, one doesn’t take Mahler’s greatness for granted.