David Helfgott: Rachmaninov No. 3

Even Van Cliburn, in the wake of his Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto triumph in Moscow back in 1958, didn't have a tour named after him. Then again, Van Cliburn didn't have his own Oscar-nominated movie (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actor), let alone a tour named after the movie. Australian pianist David Helfgott, whose triumph over a tyrannical father and mental illness is told in Shine, comes to Boston this Tuesday to kick off the "Shine Tour." Naturally the film soundtrack is a mega-seller, but so now is Helfgott's live recording -- with (the barely credited) Milan Horvat and the Copenhagen Philharmonic -- of his signature piece, Rachmaninov's lush, dark, dreamy Third Piano Concerto.

RCA has had an astonishing affair with the Rachmaninov, first via the composer's own impulsively kinetic and diamond-bright 1939-'40 performance with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra, then, in the '50s, with a pair of blitzkrieg traversals by Vladimir Horowitz and Byron Janis and a more conventionally lyric one by golden boy Cliburn. The '90s saw the cult of virtuoso egocentrism endorsed by Evgeny Kissin. You wouldn't think there'd be any options left, but Helfgott's performance is unlike anything I've ever heard on disc.

I wish I could offer that as a recommendation. But the truth is that this recording -- whose sales have passed the 100,000 mark -- distinguishes itself by being incoherent. The opening to the concerto is muffled and prosaic; what follows is anarchic, indulgent phrasing, willful dynamics, and any number of notes that are inaudible, if not dropped altogether. There's no shape to any of it -- even the big moments sound stodgy and meaningless. The first-movement cadenza (Helfgott plays the first of the two versions Rachmaninov wrote) is rhapsodic to the point of being completely rhythmless.

The second movement is pulled this way and that, to no purpose; the climaxes are spasmodic and totally lacking in the kaleidoscopic color that you'd expect even from an ordinary pianist. The third movement is a total scramble, with inaccurate and muddled playing from both soloist and orchestra, no phrasing to the big chords, and no body to the romantic passages.

The disc is filled out by four preludes and the B-flat minor Sonata. The famous C-sharp minor Prelude goes its own eccentric way from the beginning, with the initial three chords repeated sotto voce; the middle section of the G-minor Prelude is just plain wussy. The sonata I couldn't follow at all.

These thoughts are not meant to reflect on Helfgott's sincerity or his talent. I suppose you could argue that he's a throwback to the mystical virtuosos of the 19th century, but the one surviving example of that style in this century, Erwin Niregyházi, had far more vision than Helfgott, far more imagination -- and, yes, far more organization. If this is good pianism, then Rachmaninov never had a clue.

As for Shine, it's a feel-good melodrama that trades on its astonishing performances (primarily by Geoffrey Rush as its protagonist and Armin Mueller-Stahl as his father) and the notion that Helfgott is some kind of musical genius. Alas, no hint of that genius is detectable on the soundtrack, or on this recording. Helfgott deserves better; let's hope he gives it to us when he comes to Symphony Hall.

-- Jeffrey Gantz

(David Helfgott's recital at Symphony Hall this Tuesday, March 4, is sold out.)