Amadeus Rewatched
I’ve been rewatching, for the first time in many years, Amadeus (directed by Milos Forman, script by Peter Shaffer, based on his play of the same name but with significant differences from same), which I’ve loved ever since seeing it in the cinema as a teen in the mid 80s. And I’m pleased to say it stll holds up.
Now, over the years, I’ve seen objections both from the Mozart and the Salieri angle (i.e. cries of “unfair” by fans of either or both), not to mention the numerous historical inaccuracies, which range from the central premise to details like the way Mozart, and occasionally Salieri, are filmed conducting an orchestra when an opera is staged. The shots Forman uses have subsequently become iconic and to this day are, I venture to guess, the way any conductor in a movie or tv show is depicted, i.e. in central focus, with the audience behind him. This is, of course, not the way it happened; the movie itself pays homage to the actual musical practice of the era at one point when it has Mozart sitting at the pianoforte during the staging of the Magic Flute and conduct from there. (Unless I misremember, Richard Wagner started out still doing that but changed the practice to conducting from the orchestra in Bayreuth as one of the earliest examples of a composer/conductor doing that.) But you see, to me complaints like these are missing the point, not least because Peter Shaffer, who strikes me as having done his research very thoroughly when talking to Milos Forman on the dvd audio commentary, never claimed that he was going for historical accuracy. No “this story is based on true events” or “inspired by true events” disclaimer on the credits for Amadeus, no, ma’am and sir. What it does, though, is use some historical mosaic stones and build a new picture of its own, telling a story of obsession and jealousy and art and hunger and joy and life.
And doing it in a way that’s specifically cinematic. In the audio commentary, Shaffer also is the first writer I’ve listened to who says he prefers the cinema version to his original play, and gives a reason I can thoroughly understand: a movie can use music in a way a play (which isn’t a musical) just can’t. A play can claim Mozart is a genius composer, but has to rely on the audience going along with this because it’s a basic cultural assumption. A movie can use the music as part of the story it tells. And Forman does this so very well. It’s not just a case of picking a “Mozart: Greatest Hits” soundtrack. No, you get transitions like Mozart’s mother-in-law transforming into the Queen of Night from The Magic Flute, the first sight of Leopold Mozart in Vienna already prepares for his later transformation into the Komtur from Don Giovanni and the still later use Salieri will make of his insight into Mozart’s guilt about his father both visually and musically at the same time, you get Salieri again and again swept away by the beauty of the music and the rudely thrown back into the reality of who has been composing it with the soundtrack complimenting F. Murray Abraham’s performance perfectly, you get the extraordinary Requiem sequence where Mozart, dictating the Lacrimosa to Salieri, allows not just Salieri but the audience an in as how this particular bit of music comes into being, by way of Forman separating the choir voices and instrumentations as Mozart dictates, adding them up bit by bit.
It is, as has often been said, a feast for the eyes, with the costumes going all out ancien regime extravaganza. Forman filmed in Prague, starting a trend to this days for historical movies and tv shows being filmed there (rather than in Vienna, or Paris, or whereever) because the architecture fits much better than current day Vienna (or Paris, or whereever) does. (Filming in Prague also meant he could use the actual building in which Mozart conducted Don Giovanni for the first time; it’s used for all the opera sequence, just differently dressed up to look like different theatres.) The various opera settings are luxurious, and as for the food, well, this is a movie unabashedly indulging in food porn (and not just when Salieri is offering “Venus nipples”). All of which has a point to make about the world the characters live in, and about the characters themselves. Salieri, who prides himself on being a moral man and is infuriated by the “obscene child” Mozart, is addicted to various sweet delicacies in an early signal of all he’s suppressing.
It’s one of those works where the main character isn’t the title character - i.e. the main character is Salieri, not Mozart - and yet the title couldn’t be anything else, because “Amadeus” means “loved by God”, and what drives Salieri mad with desire, longing and rage is what he sees as God unfairly bestowing genius on Mozart and giving him, Salieri, only the ability to recognize it, better than anyone else.
In more than one commentary on the film, I’ve seen it pointed out that the whole story is told by the old, mad Salieri which means complaining about historical accuracy is also besides the point since Salieri in this state is hardly a reliable narrator. Which, well, yes and no. I don’t think the narrative implies Salieri is consciously lying to the priest he confesses to/messes with, not least because, and this is a difference to the play, the movie actually shifts perspective: we start firmly in Salieri’s pov, but end up in Mozart’s, with the last half or at least the last third of the film showing us a lot of Mozart centric scenes Salieri, even through his spy the maid, can’t have known about, and which aren’t commented on by his voice over. (I.e. we have no idea whether he tells the priest about this or whether this is what the audience only sees.) It’s also a way the movie adds and counters characterisation. For all that Mozart’s irritating giggle, scatological jokes and childishness are what Salieri in comparison to the music finds so horrifying (to him), the later scenes show that Mozart is actually consistently passionate and deadly serious about his music, and every bit as hard a worker as Salieri. (He parties, but whenever Salieri asks someone - the maid, or Constanze - “is he working”, the answer isn’t just “yes”, but the audience gets to see this is so.) Being a genius doesn’t mean there’s no sweat involved.
If it’s easy to sympathize with Salieri on his basic frustration, not least because from his pov, it echoes Cain’s: he’s working hard, he’s offering all he can, and God just inexplicably favours the other one. It’s the child crying “unfair!” In all of us, and the early sequence where Mozart transforms Salieri’s painstakingly composed pedestrian welcoming march into the Piu andrai from Figaro’s Wedding seemingly without any effort at all just rubs salt into the wound. Who wouldn’t be seething? That Mozart is oblivious to Salieri’s rage and hostility and seemingly doesn’t even notice the feud he’s in is just adding insult.
But like I said: the movie, the longer it goes on, shifts pov and narrative sympathy, especially with the director’s cut restoring the sequence from the play that has Salieri first blackmailing Contanze Mozart for sex if she wants her husband to get the teacher’s job he needs and then humiliating her further by making her undress, then ringing his servant to kick her out. Later, she can just silently cry, finding herself unable to tell her husband what has happened. It’s a cruelty which has nothing to do with Constanze herself but says something very ugly about Salieri and his supposed moral outrage at Mozart (who’s had an affair with the singer Salieri fancied). It’s also the kind of malice notably absent in Mozart, whose own self image might include the conviction of being a better composer than anyone else, but doesn’t see himself as superior or even good in any other regard. When Mozart tells Emperor Joseph II as part of his plea to get Figaro staged “I’m a vulgar man, but my music is not”, he shows more self awareness than Salieri with his conviction of being a good person whom God inexplicably has denied his fondest wish ever does.
(Incidentally: all the other restored bits and pieces in the director’s cut are to my mind easily expendable, they don’t add anything the cinematic release hasn’t already made clear. But the sequence with Constanze is important, not least because it provides a clear reason for her hostility and distrust towards Salieri in Mozart’s death scene, whereas the cinematic release, which had her leaving Salieri without getting blackmailed and with the conviction he’d help her husband out of the goodness of his heart, does not.)
Now, fandom being fandom, I wasn’t surprised upon checking out the AO3 archive that Mozart/Salieri is a thing. My own reading is more that Salieri wants to be Mozart than that he wants to have him, but ymmv, as always. Still, given that the very intense Requiem sequence contains a key line the tv version of Good Omens gave to Aziraphale - “you’re going too fast for me” - and that in Salieri’s mind, he’s actually involved less in a feud with Mozart than in a feud with God, or an attempt to get an answer from God that’s denied to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s been some subconcious influence there. Not least because Amadeus is actually very funny throughout, including the last “mediocrities of the world, I absolve you” scene, and yet never loses sight of the humanity of its characters.
In conclusion: still love this movie. Always will.
This entry was originally posted at https://selenak.dreamwidth.org/1370656.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.
Now, over the years, I’ve seen objections both from the Mozart and the Salieri angle (i.e. cries of “unfair” by fans of either or both), not to mention the numerous historical inaccuracies, which range from the central premise to details like the way Mozart, and occasionally Salieri, are filmed conducting an orchestra when an opera is staged. The shots Forman uses have subsequently become iconic and to this day are, I venture to guess, the way any conductor in a movie or tv show is depicted, i.e. in central focus, with the audience behind him. This is, of course, not the way it happened; the movie itself pays homage to the actual musical practice of the era at one point when it has Mozart sitting at the pianoforte during the staging of the Magic Flute and conduct from there. (Unless I misremember, Richard Wagner started out still doing that but changed the practice to conducting from the orchestra in Bayreuth as one of the earliest examples of a composer/conductor doing that.) But you see, to me complaints like these are missing the point, not least because Peter Shaffer, who strikes me as having done his research very thoroughly when talking to Milos Forman on the dvd audio commentary, never claimed that he was going for historical accuracy. No “this story is based on true events” or “inspired by true events” disclaimer on the credits for Amadeus, no, ma’am and sir. What it does, though, is use some historical mosaic stones and build a new picture of its own, telling a story of obsession and jealousy and art and hunger and joy and life.
And doing it in a way that’s specifically cinematic. In the audio commentary, Shaffer also is the first writer I’ve listened to who says he prefers the cinema version to his original play, and gives a reason I can thoroughly understand: a movie can use music in a way a play (which isn’t a musical) just can’t. A play can claim Mozart is a genius composer, but has to rely on the audience going along with this because it’s a basic cultural assumption. A movie can use the music as part of the story it tells. And Forman does this so very well. It’s not just a case of picking a “Mozart: Greatest Hits” soundtrack. No, you get transitions like Mozart’s mother-in-law transforming into the Queen of Night from The Magic Flute, the first sight of Leopold Mozart in Vienna already prepares for his later transformation into the Komtur from Don Giovanni and the still later use Salieri will make of his insight into Mozart’s guilt about his father both visually and musically at the same time, you get Salieri again and again swept away by the beauty of the music and the rudely thrown back into the reality of who has been composing it with the soundtrack complimenting F. Murray Abraham’s performance perfectly, you get the extraordinary Requiem sequence where Mozart, dictating the Lacrimosa to Salieri, allows not just Salieri but the audience an in as how this particular bit of music comes into being, by way of Forman separating the choir voices and instrumentations as Mozart dictates, adding them up bit by bit.
It is, as has often been said, a feast for the eyes, with the costumes going all out ancien regime extravaganza. Forman filmed in Prague, starting a trend to this days for historical movies and tv shows being filmed there (rather than in Vienna, or Paris, or whereever) because the architecture fits much better than current day Vienna (or Paris, or whereever) does. (Filming in Prague also meant he could use the actual building in which Mozart conducted Don Giovanni for the first time; it’s used for all the opera sequence, just differently dressed up to look like different theatres.) The various opera settings are luxurious, and as for the food, well, this is a movie unabashedly indulging in food porn (and not just when Salieri is offering “Venus nipples”). All of which has a point to make about the world the characters live in, and about the characters themselves. Salieri, who prides himself on being a moral man and is infuriated by the “obscene child” Mozart, is addicted to various sweet delicacies in an early signal of all he’s suppressing.
It’s one of those works where the main character isn’t the title character - i.e. the main character is Salieri, not Mozart - and yet the title couldn’t be anything else, because “Amadeus” means “loved by God”, and what drives Salieri mad with desire, longing and rage is what he sees as God unfairly bestowing genius on Mozart and giving him, Salieri, only the ability to recognize it, better than anyone else.
In more than one commentary on the film, I’ve seen it pointed out that the whole story is told by the old, mad Salieri which means complaining about historical accuracy is also besides the point since Salieri in this state is hardly a reliable narrator. Which, well, yes and no. I don’t think the narrative implies Salieri is consciously lying to the priest he confesses to/messes with, not least because, and this is a difference to the play, the movie actually shifts perspective: we start firmly in Salieri’s pov, but end up in Mozart’s, with the last half or at least the last third of the film showing us a lot of Mozart centric scenes Salieri, even through his spy the maid, can’t have known about, and which aren’t commented on by his voice over. (I.e. we have no idea whether he tells the priest about this or whether this is what the audience only sees.) It’s also a way the movie adds and counters characterisation. For all that Mozart’s irritating giggle, scatological jokes and childishness are what Salieri in comparison to the music finds so horrifying (to him), the later scenes show that Mozart is actually consistently passionate and deadly serious about his music, and every bit as hard a worker as Salieri. (He parties, but whenever Salieri asks someone - the maid, or Constanze - “is he working”, the answer isn’t just “yes”, but the audience gets to see this is so.) Being a genius doesn’t mean there’s no sweat involved.
If it’s easy to sympathize with Salieri on his basic frustration, not least because from his pov, it echoes Cain’s: he’s working hard, he’s offering all he can, and God just inexplicably favours the other one. It’s the child crying “unfair!” In all of us, and the early sequence where Mozart transforms Salieri’s painstakingly composed pedestrian welcoming march into the Piu andrai from Figaro’s Wedding seemingly without any effort at all just rubs salt into the wound. Who wouldn’t be seething? That Mozart is oblivious to Salieri’s rage and hostility and seemingly doesn’t even notice the feud he’s in is just adding insult.
But like I said: the movie, the longer it goes on, shifts pov and narrative sympathy, especially with the director’s cut restoring the sequence from the play that has Salieri first blackmailing Contanze Mozart for sex if she wants her husband to get the teacher’s job he needs and then humiliating her further by making her undress, then ringing his servant to kick her out. Later, she can just silently cry, finding herself unable to tell her husband what has happened. It’s a cruelty which has nothing to do with Constanze herself but says something very ugly about Salieri and his supposed moral outrage at Mozart (who’s had an affair with the singer Salieri fancied). It’s also the kind of malice notably absent in Mozart, whose own self image might include the conviction of being a better composer than anyone else, but doesn’t see himself as superior or even good in any other regard. When Mozart tells Emperor Joseph II as part of his plea to get Figaro staged “I’m a vulgar man, but my music is not”, he shows more self awareness than Salieri with his conviction of being a good person whom God inexplicably has denied his fondest wish ever does.
(Incidentally: all the other restored bits and pieces in the director’s cut are to my mind easily expendable, they don’t add anything the cinematic release hasn’t already made clear. But the sequence with Constanze is important, not least because it provides a clear reason for her hostility and distrust towards Salieri in Mozart’s death scene, whereas the cinematic release, which had her leaving Salieri without getting blackmailed and with the conviction he’d help her husband out of the goodness of his heart, does not.)
Now, fandom being fandom, I wasn’t surprised upon checking out the AO3 archive that Mozart/Salieri is a thing. My own reading is more that Salieri wants to be Mozart than that he wants to have him, but ymmv, as always. Still, given that the very intense Requiem sequence contains a key line the tv version of Good Omens gave to Aziraphale - “you’re going too fast for me” - and that in Salieri’s mind, he’s actually involved less in a feud with Mozart than in a feud with God, or an attempt to get an answer from God that’s denied to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s been some subconcious influence there. Not least because Amadeus is actually very funny throughout, including the last “mediocrities of the world, I absolve you” scene, and yet never loses sight of the humanity of its characters.
In conclusion: still love this movie. Always will.
This entry was originally posted at https://selenak.dreamwidth.org/1370656.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.