Stravinsky’s conducting of Firebird in the second half was electrifying.  His craggy aged face was immobile but somehow radiated vigour and ferocity.  At one point he gave a savage stab with his baton to cue a blast from the French horn.  But it was two bars too soon.  Alan Civil, the instrumentalist concerned, was too experienced to be fazed by this and remained silent.  Stravinsky turned his eyes away from him.  Two bars later, the notes came, correctly timed, from Civil’s horn and a transitory but grateful beam flitted across the composer’s face.  It was, I think, his only change of facial expression throughout the piece.  But the whole performance was of riveting intensity and as far as I know is the only visual record of Stravinsky as a conductor.