Nathan Milstein was one of the 20th century's greatest violinists, his technique polished to perfection, his musical interpretations profound. He was also unique among star performers in being relatively publicity-shy. So Christopher Nuppen's "portrait" offers a rare, valuable glimpse into the man's personality and his penetrating observations about his instrument and music, along with an abundance of anecdotes and reminiscences reflecting his 73 years of public performances, itself an amazing record. In that time, he knew a galaxy of legendary composers and musicians. A student of Leopold Auer, he was friends with Glazunov, Rachmaninoff, Ysaye, Horowitz, and many others who figure in the stories he tells in this documentary's interview segments. Riveting too, are Milstein's stories about concertizing in the early days of the Soviet Union, giving concerts in factories to workers who didn't appreciate Bach. It all adds up to a fascinating film which includes his last concert, recorded by Swedish television, that features sterling performances of Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata and the Bach Chaconne.

The interview materials are interspersed with filmed performances of short works that show off Milstein's dazzling command of his instrument. Milstein's reputation for severity is belied by the warm, humorous man we see spinning amusing stories and well-thought-out observations. In conversation with Pinchas Zuckerman, he speaks of the importance of "invention," the need of performers to constantly reinvent their approach to a piece by such means as changing their fingering to discover new ways of keeping their interpretations fresh. This is illustrated by the concert film on disc 2, when finger pain forced him to revise his left-hand fingering with no discernable effect on the technical or musical results. In itself, this was a remarkable feat for a violinist who, at 86, was already playing at the highest level at an age when violinists have been long retired because the inroads of age have shredded their technique. To Milstein, though, it was nothing special. He says he often modified his fingering, even on stage during a performance.

Nuppen, whose previous films sometimes go too far in trying to show musicians as ordinary folks and which sometimes slip into the hagiographic mode, is more restrained here, as fits his subject, a great musician whose life and art are so well portrayed in this fine documentary. --Dan Davis