Typical Bernstein, as heard on this ICA concert/rehearsal/interview DVD that is more interesting now than in 1982 when it was first shot. Bernstein was on good form here: the emotionally complex death of his sometimes-estranged wife Felicia Montealegre was four years in the past and the physical deterioration of his final years had yet to set in. In contrast to the less personable Bernstein heard in 1949 rehearsal excerpts of the Turangalîla Symphony with the Boston Symphony Orchestra (West Hill Radio Archives), he had become a more freewheeling individual, sometimes to a fault, showing up late for rehearsal without apologies and getting away with extreme tempi that the orchestra initially greeted with scepticism.

Bernstein didn’t conduct much Elgar and, in the interview, talks about his fascination with the composer’s Germanic antecedents and amazement that it all sounds so British. Maybe he didn’t take Elgar entirely on his own terms. Nonetheless, Bernstein was perfectly sure of his ideas in rehearsal: when told what he wanted was impossible, his casual reply was ‘No it’s not’.

Bernstein’s treatment of the famous ‘Nimrod’ variation is often Exhibit A for how idiosyncratic he became, though much is elucidated during rehearsals: he asked for a state of suspension with an electric charge in the air. Perhaps a secret requiem for Montealegre – as were so many things in those years? The orchestra doesn’t sound entirely convinced in the live performance here, which generally doesn’t make as strong an impression as the DG recording made in that same period. There, Bernstein’s ‘Nimrod’ tempi reveal beautiful harmonic subtleties easily overlooked amid the music’s overall effect.

Of course, one isn’t going to hear anything falling in line with the Boult/Barbirolli tradition, especially with Bernstein making Elgar’s portraits of everyday people into outsize gods. Programmatic insights aren’t much in evidence here, leaving the fluffy arabesques in the ‘Dorabella’ variation seeming redundant. So prominent is ‘Nimrod’ that the rest has trouble living up to it. Again, the DG recording clarifies Bernstein’s conception, the deeper sound picture revealing fine nuances (the nicely phrased incidental solos in ‘Dorabella’ for one) that make all the difference. Even if it’s still not great Elgar, the DVD, more than most of its kind, feels like a personal encounter with the magnetic, unguarded Bernstein.