Uploaded April 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
Presented here is a rare and historical document: a 1928 sound film-among the very first ever produced- featuring Victor Gille performing a Chopin Nocturne.
Born into privilege, he was immersed in France's elite musical echelons from childhood, granting him unparalleled access to Chopin’s immediate disciples. While he may not have been formally instructed by all of them, he was an astute observer who listened to and conversed extensively with luminaries such as Georges Mathias, Camille Dubois, Madame Roubaud etc. His formal conservatory training was guided by Émile Decombes, a pianist in Chopin’s own piano studio, and Diemer. As Jean-Jacques Eigeldinger notes in his research: "Gille grew up at the turn of the century amongst several former pupils of Chopin whom he names; in addition to some well-established names (Mme Dubois, Laure Duperre, Baronne d'lvry, Mathias, Mme Roubaud, Mme Veyret) he lists Peru and about ten others who are otherwise unknown - for example, Charles Delioux (1825-1915) who taught Gille's mother and Gille himself, and to whom he refers both as Chopin's 'pupil' and as Chopin's 'friend'."
Gille devoted a significant portion of his autobiography to his observations about Chopin's pupils. Gille on Chopin's pupil Cheriemietieff: "He so loved legato playing that at times in a scale he would tilt the hand towards the little finger when ascending and towards the thumb when descending; he liked to make a glissando with the nail of his third finger, in order to give the wrist and hand the desired inclination". For his part quotes Anna de Lichocherstoff (another of Chopin's pupil) as being taught by Chopin, that "the Luft-Pause which gives the hand the elegance of a wing . . . The suppleness of the wrist, independent of the forearm, was the virtuoso's prime consideration."
My discovery of this film began last year with a brief reference to it in a book on French film history. Despite exhaustive initial searches, the film remained elusive. Musicologists and classical aficionados were seemingly oblivious to its existence, while film historians, recognizing its technical milestone as an early "talkie," failed to grasp its musicological value to the history of pianism. Ultimately, after continuous dialogue with French film academics and state film archives, I obtained a restored version of this footage.
It is also crucial to contextualize this performance within Gille's wider discography. The vinyl recordings of Gille currently accessible online date entirely to the late 1950s- artifacts of his twilight years, captured long after his virtuosic prime and formal retirement from the concert stage. This 1928 footage, therefore, presents him during a period of significantly technical command.
The visual documentation of pianists with tangible links to Chopin’s inner circle is astonishingly scarce. The extant archive is limited to a handful of brief clips of Alfred Cortot, a fleeting twenty-second glimpse of Francis Planté, silent fragments of Aleksander Michałowski and Vladimir de Pachmann. Beyond its sheer rarity, the cinematic execution of the Gille film is remarkably transparent. Devoid of the gratuitous, stylized camera angles that would plague later piano recordings, it offers an unembellished, continuous shot. We are granted an unobstructed view of his pedaling, posture, and fingers/hands positions from beginning to end. Ironically, one of the earliest sound films captured the essence of piano performance exactly as it should be documented.
Enjoy.
Presented here is a rare and historical document: a 1928 sound film-among the very first ever produced- featuring Victor Gille performing a Chopin Nocturne.
Born into privilege, he was immersed in France's elite musical echelons from childhood, granting him unparalleled access to Chopin’s immediate disciples. While he may not have been formally instructed by all of them, he was an astute observer who listened to and conversed extensively with luminaries such as Georges Mathias, Camille Dubois, Madame Roubaud etc. His formal conservatory training was guided by Émile Decombes, a pianist in Chopin’s own piano studio, and Diemer. As Jean-Jacques Eigeldinger notes in his research: "Gille grew up at the turn of the century amongst several former pupils of Chopin whom he names; in addition to some well-established names (Mme Dubois, Laure Duperre, Baronne d'lvry, Mathias, Mme Roubaud, Mme Veyret) he lists Peru and about ten others who are otherwise unknown - for example, Charles Delioux (1825-1915) who taught Gille's mother and Gille himself, and to whom he refers both as Chopin's 'pupil' and as Chopin's 'friend'."
Gille devoted a significant portion of his autobiography to his observations about Chopin's pupils. Gille on Chopin's pupil Cheriemietieff: "He so loved legato playing that at times in a scale he would tilt the hand towards the little finger when ascending and towards the thumb when descending; he liked to make a glissando with the nail of his third finger, in order to give the wrist and hand the desired inclination". For his part quotes Anna de Lichocherstoff (another of Chopin's pupil) as being taught by Chopin, that "the Luft-Pause which gives the hand the elegance of a wing . . . The suppleness of the wrist, independent of the forearm, was the virtuoso's prime consideration."
My discovery of this film began last year with a brief reference to it in a book on French film history. Despite exhaustive initial searches, the film remained elusive. Musicologists and classical aficionados were seemingly oblivious to its existence, while film historians, recognizing its technical milestone as an early "talkie," failed to grasp its musicological value to the history of pianism. Ultimately, after continuous dialogue with French film academics and state film archives, I obtained a restored version of this footage.
It is also crucial to contextualize this performance within Gille's wider discography. The vinyl recordings of Gille currently accessible online date entirely to the late 1950s- artifacts of his twilight years, captured long after his virtuosic prime and formal retirement from the concert stage. This 1928 footage, therefore, presents him during a period of significantly technical command.
The visual documentation of pianists with tangible links to Chopin’s inner circle is astonishingly scarce. The extant archive is limited to a handful of brief clips of Alfred Cortot, a fleeting twenty-second glimpse of Francis Planté, silent fragments of Aleksander Michałowski and Vladimir de Pachmann. Beyond its sheer rarity, the cinematic execution of the Gille film is remarkably transparent. Devoid of the gratuitous, stylized camera angles that would plague later piano recordings, it offers an unembellished, continuous shot. We are granted an unobstructed view of his pedaling, posture, and fingers/hands positions from beginning to end. Ironically, one of the earliest sound films captured the essence of piano performance exactly as it should be documented.
Enjoy.
