By Jonathan Fisher, November 29th, 2009
Antonio Salieri cuts a pretty tragic figure in Milos Forman's Amadeus. In Amadeus' vision, the Italian composer was a deeply bitter and resentful man, brilliant enough to see just how special and extraordinary Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was, and perceptive enough to understand that he would never be able to compose music as easily and expertly as Mozart did. There is a moment in Amadeus in which Mozart has just composed and presented a new opera, proclaimed by the Emperor as the 'greatest opera yet written'. The opera climaxes, the crowd erupts and Mozart is smothered in adulation. The camera cuts to Salieri, sitting in a box, cowering in the corner and staring at the events unfolding before him. The look on his face is a combination of malice and self-pity, perfectly captured by F. Murray Abraham, who won an Oscar for his performance. The central, burning question at the heart of Salieri's actions in Amadeus is "Why? Why Mozart and not me?"
Salieri's question is directed both inwards and outwards. Half-way through the film, Salieri disavows God, concluding that no benevolent higher being could be so cruel, heartless and callous to allow Salieri the ear of a genius, but the talent of an also-ran. This is compounded by Salieri's personal view of Mozart. One of the best things that Amadeus does is to present Mozart not as a brooding genius, but as an immature, socially stilted goofball with an odd laugh who delights in his own talents, but does not realise how painful his very existence is for Salieri. Every time Salieri witnesses Mozart's genius, the ease with which he pens masterpieces, it is a dagger in his heart. Amadeus is in part a story about the dangers of constantly comparing yourself to others. In the words of the Desiderata, "If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself."
Amadeus, despite its title, is actually about Salieri and his personal demons, the hatred that he harboured for Mozart while simultaneously admiring his work and talent better than anyone else. Since its release 25 years ago, when it emerged as a towering achievement and an Oscar darling, it has become widely regarded as the best 'Great Composer' movie ever made, precisely because it subverts the formula of the genre at every turn. Most movies about great artists focus on their personal struggle to create their art, the personal demons they face, and usually, their battle with whatever substance they choose to abuse. Amadeus takes almost all of that out of the equation by turning the story of Mozart into a story about how us mere mortals view the mega-talented. There is always a sense of self-comparison, however subconscious, when we observe the great achievers around us. In a peculiar and cruel way, their genius is both something to cherish, but also acts as a kind of mirror for our own shortcomings.
Amadeus presents this phenomenon by showing us stretches of both Salieri and Mozart composing. For Mozart, the process seems to be joyous and organic, and the music that came from him was enormous in scope and core-shakingly powerful. Salieri himself suggests that Mozart is taking 'dictation from God'. Salieri struggles away to create inoffensive-sounding jingles, but nothing really revelatory. Salieri recognises this better than anyone, which makes him feel worse. Then comes a heart-breaking moment when, at a masquerade ball, Mozart takes requests from the audience. When no-one can think of anything to suggest to Mozart, Salieri says (behind the anonymity of his mask), "Play Salieri". Mozart, drunk from the alcohol and fan-adulation, proceeds to play a Salieri piece, accompanied by a cruel impersonation of the composer, culminating in Mozart passing wind. The effect of this scene is magnified ten-fold because Salieri never removes his mask. While everyone is laughing at him, all we see are his eyes and mouth, cold and unmoving. Ouch.
Moments like this, reminding Salieri of his inadequacy next to Mozart's brilliance, compound until eventually Salieri decides to pose as Mozart's ally while surreptitiously working to tear the composer down. Via flash-forwards that frame the film, of an elderly Salieri confessing to a young priest, we see what a toll Salieri's relationship with Mozart was to have on his life. The elderly Salieri is a sad, remorse-plagued man. He is convinced that he killed Mozart, despite the evidence that Mozart died of tuberculosis. Even when on death's door, Salieri is torn between his love for Mozart's music, and the resentment he feels towards the man himself.
This remarkable film adaptation of Amadeus, directed by Milos Forman (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), was based on the play by Peter Shaffer and came under the slightest of criticisms for Americanising the story, for making Mozart's character seem like an 'American buffoon'. I don't see it like that -- for me, Tom Hulce's portrayal of Mozart, while oddball, is one of the best lead performances of the last 25 years. In reducing the character to a joking man-child, Hulce and Forman express what so many of us suspect about geniuses. They can afford to be relaxed and casual because often their gift comes so easily to them.
Amadeus is a thrilling movie, set to a soundtrack of some of the most beautiful music ever written by a human being. It is a thriller, a character study, and sometimes even a comedy. Milos Forman, a Czech director who migrated to America to make his films, explored the dangers of being an outsider and running against the grain in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and even manages to express that theme here. Mozart's character, despite his genius, is very much an outsider. That is expressed through Hulce's laugh, body language, and even in the way Forman and costume designer Theodor Pistek dress him. There's something almost anarchical about Hulce as Mozart. The wigs don't seem to wear him as well as they do the Emperor and Salieri. He was like an 18th Century Sid Vicious.
Eventually in the film, Mozart does die. There is a suggestion that Salieri may have played some role in his death (within the context of the film, of course. Amadeus does not try to re-write history, only to interpret it to explore the inner workings of this version of Salieri), but right to the end Salieri was conflicted about his feelings towards Mozart. "Before I leave this earth, I will laugh at you," he secretly promises Mozart. Mozart's premature death must have been, in some way, satisfying for Salieri. But in the final scenes of the film, as Salieri helps an ailing Mozart transcribe his final masterpiece, it is clear that Salieri loves Mozart's music more than nearly anything. Salieri is a man that is unable to control his very human jealousy for the sake of appreciating the 'voice of God'. That is his tragedy, and Amadeus is a warning to the rest of us to be wary of falling into the same trap.
Editor's note: In preparing for this article, I re-watched "Amadeus" a couple of times on Blu-Ray. In 1080p high-definition, Milos Forman's thrilling film is elevated even more by the clear image and sharp sound. I recommend the experience.
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