Amadeus

"Amadeus", while historically inaccurate in numerous ways, is a brilliant film. Its central character is not a man but an attribute of man at his most remarkable: genius. Mozart's genius was at the highest level, on par with Shakespeare, Michelangelo and Balanchine. Forman knew this when he undertook translating Peter Shaffer's play. Although most of the acting is on a very high plane, the actors themselves are not top tier, not should they be. A famous, easily recognizable actor would have detracted from the central thesis that genius is greater than the one on whom it has been entrusted. Mozart was, of course, deeper than the character shown in the movie, but no personal life could equal the extent and depth of the musical genius that flowed from this little man. The letters he sent to his father show a remarkable sensitivity and depth of understanding. However, they are not paradigms of literary greatness. The immense contribution of W. A. Mozart lay in some of the most sublime music ever written. Fortunately, the film gave us snippets of some of the real gems in the Mozart canon: the great C Minor Mass, the Requiem and "Don Giovanni". Forman realized that no human being will ever be great enough or have the background to pen such masterpieces without intervention from elsewhere. This is certainly true of Shakespeare as well. So what we have here, ultimately, is a celebration of genius, that great gift to mankind that nearly always proves to be too much for the person who is chosen to manifest it to the rest of us. Many thanks to Milos Forman for the wisdom to keep out of the way and allow genius to shine through. In that sense, "Amadeus" is an exercise in humility. Few films come across as blessings for those who experience them. "Amadeus" is one such film.

When the two worlds of Antonio Salieri and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart collide in Milos Forman's Amadeus, it is anything but a symphony. As the court composer of the Emperor of Austria, all Salieri desires are fame and recognition as a composer; it is all he had wanted his whole life. When he learns that Mozart, whose name he had known as long as he can remember, is going to come to the court to play, Salieri cannot wait to meet the outstanding and righteous man that he knows he must be. However, when Salieri learns that Mozart is a young, crude, and unrefined young man, endowed with all the talent and ability that he ever wanted and strived for, it plants a seed of jealousy that soon grows into bitter resentment and hatred, not only for Mozart, but also towards God. Salieri's desire to get rid of him is seemingly boundless as he plots and schemes for Mozart's demise. It is no wonder why Amadeus won eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture, with 5-Star performances by F. Murry Abraham as Antonio Salieri and Tom Hulce as Mozart. Amadeus is an emotionally charged and tragic piece, a story of the life of one of the world's most famous composers, as seen through the eyes of his worst enemy.

The unseen star of this film is the Academy of St Martin's in the Field, London. Buy the soundtrack and you will be rewarded with some of the most stunning music you can hear. Mozart's music excells with brilliant treatment and dies with a bad performance. And that, after all, is what the film is about. Without his music, Mozart would be lost in time, a fate that the narrator of the story, the composer Salieri, saw as his own. Ironically, while Salieri has indeed been completely overshadowed by Mozart, his music still survives and has its followers.

But beyond the music this is an outstanding film. Set in the prettiest and most flamboyant century of the last millennium, it is visually stunning and the writer's portrayal of jealousy is perceptive. The casting of the Austrian King and courtiers, (indeed all the actors in this film) that Mozart needed to impress capture the gentility and courtesy of the time, and also subtly shows their growing indignation and impatience at Mozart's personality and behaviour; the presentation of Mozart as punk musician is probably the only failing in the film. As a theatrical device to show that genius can come in disastrous packages it succeeds well, but anyone with any historic sense of social ettiquette or manners will know that Mozart's sill y behaviour would be well wide of the truth, as might, perhaps, be the concept of Salieri as murderer-in-chief. Only in the final scenes is Mozart's brilliance as a composer truly explored in what amounts to a deconstruction of his final composition - his moving, uncompleted and poignant Requiem mass.

Another unintended star in this film are the candle lit sets and theatres of the 18th Century; their operas and drama ooze a magic that is lacking in the present world and which modern producers might well try to reintroduce; so lovely are these buildings with their flickering lights and theatrical techniques that one is left desperate to to seek out these rare theatres to experience them.

This film leaves one breathless from its visual beauty, its magnificent score and the choreography, indeed, of the two together. Mozart's life had the air of tragedy, and his undoubted genius speaks to us now and forever. This film is a monument to the skills of the writer, maker, performers and, of course, Mozart's music. If you have not yet done so, see it.

"Amadeus" is a great film that is deep, thought-provoking, and overall exceptional. The film deals with the last few months of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's (Oscar-nominee Tom Hulce) life, told in flashbacks by an old, washed-up musician named Antonio Salieri (Oscar-winner F. Murray Abraham). Salieri tells of the genius, the ingenuity, and the insanity of the young musician who died mysteriously at the age of 35. Salieri's jealousy may have led him to kill the young composer, but that is something that will never be known. "Amadeus" is an interesting commentary that tries to fill holes in history and succeeds amazingly. By mixing fact and probable fiction, the film-makers succeeded in creating a truly remarkable motion picture that is easily one of the best of the 1980s. 5 stars out of 5.

Most films about composers- Ken Russell's "The Music Lovers" about Tchaikovsky and "Immortal Beloved" about Beethoven are examples- rely upon the cliché of the creative artist as tortured, neurotic genius. Perhaps we like to console ourselves for the fact that we are not ourselves geniuses with the thought that genius must be paid for in mental suffering. Of course, not all composers fit this stereotype- Haydn was stoical in the face of misfortune (including a miserably unhappy marriage), Rossini was a noted bon viveur and it was often said of Felix Mendelssohn that his forename (Latin for "happy") well suited his character. But when did you last see a biopic of Haydn, Rossini or Mendelssohn? "Song of Norway" told the story of Grieg, another composer who doesn't really fit the "tormented genius" label, but it bombed at the box-office.

"Amadeus", however, attempts to overturn this cliché with a vengeance. The Mozart portrayed in the early scenes is about the least tormented genius who ever lived, obnoxiously hearty and cheerful, without the slightest doubt about his own talents. The tormented character is his rival, Antonio Salieri, but Salieri is no genius; in his own mind he is a hopeless mediocrity whose talents pale into insignificance besides Mozart's.

The story is told as a confession made by the now elderly, half- mad Salieri to a priest in 1823, long after Mozart's death, the earlier scenes being seen in flashback. As a young man, the deeply pious Salieri vows that if God will make him a great composer he will live a chaste, virtuous life and use his talents to God's glory. At first Salieri believes that his vow has been accepted. He quickly achieves fame and is appointed Court Composer to Emperor Joseph II. When Mozart arrives in Vienna, however, Salieri realises that the young man's music has a transcendent beauty which his own can never match.

Salieri's attitude towards his rival is not one of simple jealousy. Were Mozart a man of his own austere, puritanical stamp Salieri would not resent him nearly so much. Mozart, however, is very far from being puritanical. He is not a bad man, but he is very young, and his are a young man's faults- brashness, overweening self-confidence, a bawdy sense of humour, a keen eye for a pretty girl and a lack of respect for authority. (Actually, those last two are not really faults at all). His most irritating characteristic is his high-pitched laugh like a braying jackass. In Salieri's eyes, however, Mozart is a vulgar upstart, a smutty, sex-obsessed boy. Salieri believes that God has cheated him, by denying him the musical talent he deserves and giving it to an unworthy recipient. (The title is an appropriate one; Amadeus was not only Mozart's middle name but is also Latin for "beloved of God"). Salieri therefore plots a diabolical revenge against both Mozart and God.

The director Miloš Forman took the brave decision to cast little-known actors in the three main roles, F. Murray Abraham as Salieri, Tom Hulce as Mozart and Elizabeth Berridge as Mozart's beautiful young wife Constanze. In each case, however, that decision paid off admirably. Constanze has sometimes had a bad press from biographers, but here Berridge portrays her as strong-willed but loving and kind-hearted.

Both Abraham and Hulce were nominated for "Best Actor" Oscars, and it was Abraham who won. Good as Abraham is as the gloomy, saturnine Salieri, a man eaten up with obsessive hatred, I still think that Hulce should have beaten him. There is a remarkable contrast between the brash young jackass of the early scenes and the Mozart of the later ones- a more mature, serious family man who has learnt the meaning of responsibility and who is for the first time starting to experience worries- about his finances, about his health, about his career. Hulce's achievement is that he not only makes these two Mozarts equally believable but also indicates that they are not two distinct individuals but rather two aspects of the same complex personality. There are also good performances from Jeffrey Jones as the conscientious but bumbling and musically tone deaf Emperor Joseph and Roy Dotrice as Mozart's autocratic father Leopold.

"Amadeus" is not, and is not intended as, a factually accurate biopic of Mozart. As Peter Shaffer, who wrote both the screenplay and the play on which it was based, was well aware, there is no real evidence that Salieri was obsessively jealous of Mozart, and absolutely none to support the old legend that he murdered him. He was not in reality a celibate puritan- he had a wife, eight children and a mistress. Shaffer uses this legend as the basis of a fictional story which explores complex questions about the nature of artistic creativity and the relationship between man and God.

The film, deservedly, won the "Best Picture" Oscar for 1984; indeed, it is in my view one of the finest films of the eighties. It works on a number of levels- as a lavish piece of "heritage cinema" recreating the Europe of the late 18th century (the sets and costumes are particularly fine), as an intellectual exploration of philosophical issues, as a well-acted human drama, as a fictionalised study of a great man. The soundtrack is heavenly, but that is only to be expected, containing as it does some of Mozart's greatest music.

The film has had a curious side effect. It could have condemned Salieri to perpetual infamy as a jealous minor composer who was supposedly responsible for the death of a great one. Instead, it seems to have led to a revival of interest in his work; he is certainly better known today than he was in 1984. Many musicians would now regard him as something far more than the "patron saint of mediocrities". God may have answered Salieri's prayers long after his death. 10/10