Amadeus at 40

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Tom Hulce) conducts the premiere of one of his early operas.  This was shot in the actual performance hall where the great composer premiered Don Giovanni which helps give Amadeus a fantastic historic feel.

“On the page it looked...nothing! The beginning simple, almost comic. Just a pulse. Bassoons, basset horns...like a rusty squeeze box. And then, suddenly, high above it...an oboe. A single note, hanging there, unwavering. Until...a clarinet took it over...sweetened it into a phrase of such delight. This was no composition by a performing monkey. This was a music I had never heard. Filled with such longing, such unfulfillable longing. It seemed to me that I was hearing the voice of God. But why? Why would God choose an obscene child to be his instrument?”

Thus does Court Composer Antonio Salieri, brilliantly portrayed by F. Murray Abraham, articulate the magic of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to the audience and establish the principle tension of the 1984 film Amadeus. He does so near the beginning of a long confession he makes to a Catholic priest, which is how the story of the film is told to us, as a remembrance of a embittered, jealous elderly composer whose music is now forgotten and who claims to have killed Mozart.

I did not know any of this on a rainy Sunday afternoon in the fall of 1984. I found myself with nothing to do and no one to do it with. So, as I often did in those days, I walked from my apartment to the downtown movie theater in Athens to catch a matinee of a movie made of Peter Shaffer's play, also of which I knew nothing. Having been a drama minor, I was familiar with Shaffer and his excellent play Equus. That was about it.

But the scene I quoted above, which takes place about 23 minutes into the film, captivated me, as did the music and acting and everything else about this film. So, also as I did so often back then, when the matinee ended I went to the rest room, returned, bought some popcorn and a coke and settled in for the first evening show.  Amadeus struck me with its magic. I couldn't help but watch it again immediately.

After all these years, the film is still a marvel to behold, blending drama, historical narrative, and classical music in a way that leaves a lasting impact. Milos Forman's direction is masterful, allowing the film to balance its grandeur with intimate, often comic, personal moments. The decision to focus on the rivalry between Salieri and Mozart (portrayed wonderfully by Tom Hulce) adds an intriguing psychological layer to the story. Abraham's depiction of Salieri's envy, torment, and eventual breakdown is mesmerizing and well-deserving of the Oscar and the Golden Globe (among other awards) he won for his performance.

Hulce's Mozart, on the other hand, brings a sense of youthful exuberance and genius, making his character both endearing and tragic. The contrast between Salieri's disciplined, devout persona and Mozart's wild, carefree musical mastery allows the film to embark upon a exploration of themes like jealousy, hatred, mediocrity, creativity and genius. As a side note: Only a dozen films have ever received two Best Actor nominations. This film was the last of the twelve. No film has done it in the past 40 years. That fact alone puts this picture in an elite category.

Court Composer Antonio Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) is shocked when he discovers that the his "idol" (Mozart) is, in fact, an ill-mannered immature "creature."

A wonderful moment in the film that has stayed with me all my life.  An elderly Salieri in an asylum following his attempted suicide describes the sublime beginning to Mozart's Serenade for 13 Wind Instruments. 

Mozart is depicted as a joyous, carefree, immature musical genius.  Which is largely accurate.

The Emperor Joseph (Jeffery Jones, seated in white behind Mozart) is part of the packed crowd enjoying Mozart's opera.

Amadeus takes considerable creative liberties with the relationship between Salieri and Mozart, crafting a compelling drama out of what is a largely fictionalized conflict. Though the film is steeped in history, it is an artistic fabrication that Salieri harbored the intense jealousy or took any direct actions to sabotage Mozart as depicted on the screen. The two knew one another but any animosity between them is exaggerated for dramatic purposes. Yet, the fictional narrative remains believable for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which are the superb period costumes and authentic 18^th century locations in and around Prague in the early 1980's that adorn the film.

The film captures Mozart's brilliance and eccentricities in a way that feels authentic, even if the personal dynamics are embellished. His method of composing—conceiving the music in his head and then transcribing it with minimal corrections—is a testament to his genius, and the film portrays this with reverence. The tragic end to his life, with the unfinished Requiem and his burial in a pauper's grave, also adds a poignant note to the story, grounding the drama in real historical events. It is an amazing fact that, even today, no one knows precisely where Mozart's body lies.

Yet, Mozart is not really the focus of the film. Instead, he provides the "atmosphere" for Amadeus. The movie is really a psychological exploration of Salieri, who was passionate about his music. Music was divinity to him. But, he could not believe that God would choose "a monkey" who was so crass to compose such divine music. Salieri is depicted as a man with talent enough to recognize the loftiness of Mozart's compositions without the talent or even the understanding to equal them. This leads to obsessive jealousy and a falling out with God. Throughout the film, Salieri attempts to circumvent what he sees as "God's work" but he fails at every attempt. He cannot help being simultaneously attracted to Mozart's music and repulsed by his character.

The Turkish Finale from Mozart's "The Abduction from the Seraglio." Part of the appeal of Amadeus lies in these marvelous and authentic opera scenes. 

The Emperor Joseph and his Court congratulate Mozart.  One of the distinctive aspects of the film is how memorable all the various supporting characters are.  The casting in the film is flawless.  This is the scene where His Majesty mentions to Mozart that "just now and then...there are too many notes" in his composition, which Mozart finds absurd.

A bit of tension is created when the star of his opera, Caterina Cavalieri (Christine Ebersole), with whom Mozart has apparently had an affair (implied but not shown in the film), learns that Mozart is engaged (or about to be) to his future wife, Constanze (played superbly by Elizabeth Berridge, to Mozart's right).  Salieri (who is in love with Caterina - he, not Mozart, actually had an affair with her historically) looks on.  This adds to the Court Composer's growing jealousy in the film. 

The accumulation of what Salieri sees as the "divine" nature of music, Mozart sacrilegious genius, and his relationship with the woman that the Court Composer is in love with is too much for Salieri.  He breaks with God and decides to "hinder his creation" from this moment forward.  This is symbolized by him burning the crucifix that hung on his wall.  The central narrative in Amadeus is Salieri's "war" with God over what he sees as his right of be given the "divine" talent that Mozart "undeservingly" possesses. 

The movie portrays Salieri as someone who feels betrayed by God, who he believes has bestowed the gift of divine music on someone he views as undeserving. This internal conflict drives the entire film. This leads to a profound crisis of faith, where his devotion to God becomes twisted into resentment and anger. The film's exploration of this theme is fascinating, especially in how it shows Salieri's moral decline as he becomes consumed by jealousy and hatred.

Salieri becomes the self-proclaimed "Patron Saint of Mediocrity" as he has lived a long life watching interest in his own compositions fade while Mozart only grows in stature after the latter's death. Far from being delusional, Salieri sees everything accurately but his personal passion for music and ability to recognize brilliance without replicating it leads him to complete misery. He views his life as a failure because he feels that God should have granted him the distinction that Mozart later acquired. In this sense, the film is about pride, genius, and the inner turmoil of an unrealized dream.

The film's exploration of pride is central to Salieri's downfall. His pride in his own abilities and his belief that his devoutness to God should be rewarded with divine favor clash with the reality that genius is not something that can be earned through piety or hard work alone. This is why Mozart's character, with all his flaws, is so infuriating to Salieri—Mozart is the embodiment of effortless talent, a genius who doesn't need to strive as Salieri does.

The emptiness of privilege is another profound theme in the film. Salieri, despite his high position and his worldly success (he was a popular composer in his time), is haunted by the realization that these things are ultimately hollow in the face of true artistic brilliance. His life becomes a cautionary tale about the dangers of measuring one's worth by external success and recognition, rather than personal fulfillment or the joy of creation.

Mozart's overbearing father (on the right dressed in black, played by Roy Dotrice), who taught him and developed his child's musical talent, pays him and his wife a visit.  This establishes another important undercurrent in the film which ultimately results in the opera Don Giovanni.  The costumes and street scenes help establish a genuine look and feel for the period, making the fictionalized narrative feel completely believable.

Salieri enlists a maid to spy on Mozart, though she refuses to reveal her benefactor, of course.  His father does not like this mysterious young woman at all, but Constanze and Wolfgang are pleased with the offer.

Mozart composes constantly, seemingly taking "dictation" of divine music fully conceived in his head.  He makes few, if any, corrections or revisions, which is historically accurate.

Mozart is in hot water with His Majesty and His Court over the rumor that he is working on an opera on Figaro, a subject the Emperor has banned.  The film was shot on location throughout Prague using only a few studio sets.  Again, this adds authenticity to the film.

The rest of the cast is also equal to the immense task of bringing this story to life. Of particular note for me, Jeffrey Jones's portrayal of Emperor Joseph II is one of the film's subtle yet impactful performances. His character embodies the Court's culture—politically powerful yet artistically limited, more concerned with decorum and tradition than with the true appreciation of genius. Emperor Joseph's famous line that Mozart's “quite new” sounding opera was exciting but suffered from "too many notes" perfectly encapsulates this dynamic. It reveals the superficial understanding of art that prevails within the Court, where decisions are made not necessarily based on merit but on maintaining the status quo. “Too many notes” is a line I have never forgotten and, indeed, I have used it frequently through all my decades since as a result of my personal exposure to moments of tiresome excess.

Another line the Emperor uses a lot is “Well, there it is,” also something I've quoted off and on for most of my adult life. It is a simple statement of acknowledgment to a given (often absurd) situation and bringing closure to it with a “moving right along” sort of attitude. Someone else can handle that, I'm out of here. Very humorous in its way, in a film that is peppered with marvelous lightness and wittiness in complete balance with the serious, even moral, subjects at the heart of the narrative.

Only in the Court alone does Salieri navigate with far more skill than Mozart. He understands its intricate workings, the politics, and the need for flattery and conformity. This mastery of courtly dynamics earns him favor and success, but it doesn't fulfill him. His ability to thrive within the system only highlights the emptiness of his achievements in the face of Mozart's genius.

Director Milos Forman's touch brings a unique blend of humor and gravitas to Amadeus, adding depth to the film's complex themes. The humor often arises from the absurdities of the Court and the characters’ interactions, particularly Mozart's irreverent, even outlandish behavior in contrast to the stiff, formal world around him. Forman manages to balance these lighter moments with the more tragic elements, allowing the film to explore serious issues without becoming overwhelmingly heavy. Forman was Czechoslovakian, such a balance of common lightheartedness and sophisticated seriousness seems to be a specialty of that nationality (I am thinking of Václav Havel and Milan Kundera here).

Naturally, the musical aspect of Amadeus is one of its most outstanding achievements. You can't go wrong with Mozart! The film not only showcases Mozart's genius but also weaves his compositions seamlessly into the narrative, enhancing the drama and emotional depth of the story. It's a testament to how well the music is integrated that it becomes almost another character in the film, driving the action and reflecting the inner lives of the characters.

Including a couple of compositions by Salieri is a brilliant move, highlighting the fine line between talent and genius. Though the opening credits are covered by Mozart, the story actually opens with a Salieri opera. To the untrained ear Salieri's music might sound close to Mozart's—pleasant, refined, and skillful. Yet, the film subtly demonstrates the difference between the two: while Salieri's work is competent and admired within the Court, it lacks the transcendent quality that makes Mozart's music so enduring and divine.

With this viewing, I noticed that the real tension of the film revolves around Mozart's operas, whereas most of the "transitional" music comes from Mozart's magnificent chamber works, piano concertos, and symphonies. The tension surrounding Mozart's operas is central to the plot, as these works represent the culmination of his artistic vision and the source of his most significant conflicts with the Court and Salieri. Operas like The Marriage of Figaro, Don Giovanni, and The Magic Flute are depicted as both revolutionary and controversial, challenging the conventions of the time and provoking strong reactions from the characters around him.

These operas serve as the battleground where Mozart’s genius clashes with the expectations and limitations imposed by society, particularly by the Court and Salieri. The operas are seen as daring and innovative, pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable to the Viennese cultural scene, and it's in these moments that the true stakes of the film are revealed. The operatic scenes are where we see Mozart at his most vulnerable and most brilliant, facing rejection and criticism even as he creates some of his greatest works.

In contrast, the non-operatic pieces used as "incidental" or "background" music help to create the atmosphere of the film and provide a sonic backdrop to the unfolding drama. These splendid works for both chamber and orchestra capture the elegance and refinement of the period. They also highlight the breadth of Mozart's talent, showing that his genius wasn't confined to a single form but spanned multiple genres, each with its own distinct beauty.

But Mozart manages to justify The Marriage of Figaro on its musical merits alone in spite of the Emperor's ban on the subject.  It is considered one of the greatest operas ever composed.

This is contrasted with Salieri's Auxor.  You can see the Court Composer conducting in this shot.  The Emperor calls it "the greatest opera yet written."  Salieri would live long enough to see it almost completely forgotten. 

Mozart conducts Don Giovanni in the hall of its original premiere.  Notice that Mozart is without a customary wig in this scene.  This is symbolic of the intimate nature of the piece, which Salieri alone realizes is his "summoning of his dead father from the grave, for all to see."

One of the fantastic moments from Don Giovanni.

The film boldly takes a deep dive into musical details on several occasions which I am not musically trained to understand. Each time Forman manages to handle it in a way that remains accessible even to someone untrained like myself. I have already shared with you the first instance of this which occurs near the beginning when Salieri dissects the opening bars of Mozart's stupendous Serenade for 13 Wind Instruments. This moment captivated me immediately and has stayed with me all my life, inspiring (as did the whole film) my budding interest in classical music, then only a couple of years old. The simple use of an oboe followed by a clarinet is not only astonishing music but Abraham's performance transforms it into the best kind of cinematic magic.

This extraordinarily simple moment when Salieri describes the entry of the oboe, followed by the clarinet, is a perfect example of how the film brings the audience into the world of the music, allowing them to appreciate its brilliance as Salieri does. The way Abraham's Salieri almost reverently speaks of the "single note, hanging there, unwavering" before the clarinet takes it over, captures the magic of the music, making it clear why Salieri is so captivated—and so tormented—by Mozart's genius.

Forman's ability to make these musical details fully accessible by the audience, regardless of their background, is part of what makes Amadeus so effective and emotive. The film invites everyone to appreciate the artistry, not just those with formal knowledge. It's moments like this that elevate the film beyond just a historical drama into something that touches on the transcendent power of music itself.

This level of detail happens again when Mozart desperately attempts to justify Figaro (a subject banned by the Emperor) to His Royal Majesty by discussing the innovative first 20 minutes of the opera's second act. Mozart passionately defends the opera to the king based upon the musicality of it alone. Hulce's portrayal of Mozart captures the desperation and brilliance of the composer as he tries to make the Emperor and the Court understand what he’s attempting to achieve. He’s not just defending his work—he’s trying to convey how the music itself is integral to the storytelling, how it sets the stage for the opera’s themes of wit and emotional depth.

Forman again makes this moment accessible by focusing on the passion and urgency in Mozart’s defense, and the musical innovation he has come up with. Even without a deep understanding of the musical theory behind it, the audience can feel the significance of what Mozart is describing—how the music is more than just accompaniment but is, in fact, driving the entire narrative of the opera.

A third example happens near the end when Salieri is taking dictation for Mozart's unfinished Requiem mass. At one point, Salieri initially does not understand what Mozart means with his musical instructions until the younger composer explains it to him and Salieri lights up with an epiphany as to how brilliant it is, scribbling furiously. This is a deep-dive into orchestral composition that is completely alluring in itself and in no way alienates an untrained ear.

This scene powerfully illustrates the dynamic between the two composers. Despite all his envy and resentment, Salieri is still able to recognize and appreciate Mozart's genius when it's laid bare before him. His initial confusion turns into a kind of awe as Mozart explains the layers of the composition—the interplay between different parts, the counterpoint, and the intricate structure. It's as if, in that moment, Salieri is granted a glimpse into the divine inspiration that he has longed for but could never achieve himself.

The screenplay is filled with ironies and misunderstandings. Emperor Joseph appears during a dress rehearsal for Figaro, which Salieri tells us is something he never did, just in time to see a ballet dance being practiced without the music because his own decree is that such scenes are forbidden. Joseph is exasperated and asks to have the music put back in, saving the scene as Mozart intended. The irony is that Mozart previously requests Salieri to intervene on his behalf. Salieri does nothing and yet Joseph appears and the dance section is saved anyway. Mozart naturally thinks Salieri was involved even though he wasn't, undermined by a twist of fate.

Another irony occurs while Salieri is attempting to "steal" Mozart's Requiem by taking dictation from the young composer who is ill in his bed. Mozart becomes overwhelmed by what seems to be an act of generosity by Salieri coming to his assistance when, in fact, it is an act of theft meant to "get back" at God for all Salieri's suffering caused by Mozart's greatness. God would be “forced” to watch Salieri claim the greatness of the Requiem for Mozart's own funeral. Lying there in a quiet moment, Mozart's tells Salieri that he thought the Court Composer did not care for him or his music (which is half-true, he cares about the music a great deal but not at all for Mozart personally). Mozart asks Salieri to "Forgive me...forgive me." A powerful moment!

Mozart’s plea for forgiveness is a mighty reversal. Throughout the film, it is Salieri who feels wronged, believing that God has chosen Mozart over him. But in this moment, it is Mozart who asks for forgiveness, unaware that he has done nothing wrong. The irony is that while Salieri is actually scheming to defeat God for his resentment, it is Mozart who seeks forgiveness for a perceived slight. The scene becomes a tragic commentary on Salieri's twisted sense of justice and morality.

Salieri, in his obsession, is somewhat shocked by the human connection that Mozart is offering, and Mozart, in his vulnerability, cannot see the betrayal that lies behind Salieri's apparent kindness. This disconnect between their perceptions and reality heightens the emotional impact of the scene. This moment encapsulates the core themes of Amadeus—envy, genius, betrayal, and the search for significance in the face of overwhelming talent. The irony of Salieri's theft disguised as generosity, coupled with Mozart's misplaced plea for forgiveness, makes it one of the most haunting and memorable scenes in the film.

The climax of the film is its most powerful moment.  Salieri assists an ailing Mozart in composing his great (and ultimately unfinished) Requiem. This is fictionalized.  It never happened, but it makes for great cinema.

It allows the audience to witness Salieri struggling to understand Mozart's intent as he dictates the composition in all its various parts.  When Mozart manages to explain himself Salieri has an "ah-ha" moment.  "That's brilliant!" he exclaims.  To which Mozart quickly says "Yes, yes, yes.  Now for the real fireworks."  The film drives home how far he was above Salieri's ability here.

They work all night together.  Finally, an exhausted Mozart ironically begs Salieri to "forgive me...forgive me" even as the Court Composer is attempting to steal the composition. The irony is not lost on his astonished expression in this shot.

Constanze arrives in time to foil Salieri's plan (though she is not aware of this).  None of this actually happened but it makes for a terrific finale to the narrative.

As a bit of humor, Salieri refers to "miracles" that happen in his life several times throughout the film. One is when his father chokes on food and dies, thus freeing him from a life of a peasant boy, to pursue his musical career. Another is when the Emperor yawns once during Figaro, thus sealing the fate of the opera in the eyes of royalty to a limited number of performances.

Salieri declares: “The restored third act was bold, brilliant. The fourth was astounding. I saw a woman disguised in her maid's clothes hearing her husband offer her the first tender words he has offered her in years, simply because he thinks she is someone else. I heard the music of true forgiveness filling the theater. Conferring on all who sat there perfect absolution. God was singing through this little man to all the world. Unstoppable. Making my defeat more bitter with every passing bar. And then you know what happened? A miracle.” Salieri beams with a cynical smile triumphantly recollecting the Emperor's yawn.

These "miracles" dotting the film often lead to unintended consequences or reveal Salieri’s skewed perspective on life. They serve as moments of light-heartedness amidst the drama, underscoring the film’s exploration of fate, divine will, and the often absurd twists of life. They add depth to Salieri’s character, revealing his increasingly desperate attempts to make sense of the world around him, while also providing a touch of humor that enhances the richness of the story.

Among his many traits that Salieri cannot stand, Mozart expresses an "obscene" giggle throughout the film. It is symbolic of his frolicking carefree attitude and irritates Salieri, who holds music in majestic esteem. Throughout Amadeus, this laugh becomes emblematic of everything that infuriates Salieri about Mozart—his lack of decorum, his seeming disregard for the rules and traditions that Salieri holds dear, and his ability to create transcendent music with an ease that Salieri finds maddening. Appropriately, the film concludes with that giggle, literally letting Mozart have the last laugh, so to speak.

Filming in Prague was a masterstroke, as the city's architecture and ambiance perfectly captured the feel of 18th-century Vienna. Much of Prague had remained relatively unchanged, allowing the filmmakers to authentically recreate the world of Salieri and Mozart without relying heavily on sets or digital effects. The historical authenticity of the locations added a layer of realism to the film, immersing the audience in the period.

Prague's baroque and classical buildings, narrow streets, and grand theaters provided a rich backdrop that complemented the film’s themes of opulence and grandeur. This choice not only enhanced the visual storytelling but also helped ground the characters' struggles in a tangible, lived-in world, making the historical drama all the more convincing. The city's preservation of its historical architecture contributed to the film's timeless quality, reinforcing Amadeus as a cinematic classic.

The combination of Forman's direction, the exceptional performances by the entire cast, the detailed period costumes and locations (including the very hall where Mozart premiered Don Giovanni), and the profound screenplay all come together to create a film that transcends its historical subject matter and delves deeply into themes of envy, genius, and the human condition.

Mozart leaves his wife and child without money and is buried in a pauper's grave.

Salieri at the end of his confession - and the film.  He declares himself "The Patron Saint of Mediocrity" to the priest, who has heard the whole story and is left completely drained and speechless by it.

Amadeus is one of my Top 25 films of all time. It masters all the elements of great film-making in addition to featuring some of the greatest of music ever composed. It was an immediate critical sensation, winning 4 Golden Globes and 8 Oscars including Best Picture, Actor, Director and Screenplay in both award ceremonies (which more than justifies my initial reaction to it). It currently ranks 89^th on IMDB's Top 250 list. On Rotten Tomatoes is has received a somewhat surprisingly low score of 89% from the critics but 95% from the audience.

My 2002 DVD copy is the “Director's Cut” version of the film which, unfortunately, I do not recommend. For whatever reason, Forman decided to put back in a bunch of scenes edited out of the original theatrical release. Absolutely none of these scenes adds anything to the film. (Which may explain why the critics rating is so low on Rotten Tomatoes. Perhaps they are not reviewing the original version of the film.) Unfortunately, the original “Theatrical Cut” is no longer available and everyone who has seen the film in the last 25 years has watched this inferior version with 20 unnecessary minutes added to it. But I know the added material well and simply skip over it whenever I watch the film now. Sometimes more is better, as in the DVD releases of Peter Jackson's splendid The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Alas, in the case of Amadeus it is not.

“Too many scenes” as the Emperor Joseph might say. “Just cut a few and it will be perfect.” Haha. It is a shame that it is apparently impossible to see the original version of the film. It makes me long for my now discarded VHS tape version that I watched so many times throughout the 1990's. A list of the differences between the two versions is here. Given the nature of all this, watch the Director's Cut and simply skip the added scenes as indicated in the link and you will be rewarded the best experience of this timeless masterpiece. Or watch what Forman put back in to gain a new appreciation for the power of effective film editing.

Amadeus premiered in Los Angeles on September 6, 1984 and nationwide 40 years ago today.

(Written with assistance from ChatGPT)

 

A listing of all the music in the film chronologically by scenes can be found here.

The Making of Amadeus is a fascinating documentary on how this masterpiece was created.  I especially enjoy the interview with director Milos Forman.

Here's an awesome short review of the film by someone I follow on YouTube.

Another excellent review accentuating the film's "greatness" can be found here. 

Watch a film professor that I follow offer his excellent take on the film.  He, too, calls it "great."

What the film gets right historically and it's various inaccuracies (intentional fictions - like the play, the film never claims to be accurate) are covered here and here.  The second link is better though both are interesting.

Here's an interesting critique that I don't completely agree with but is worth watching nonetheless.  While it says the Theatrical Cut is superior to the Director's Cut, which I obviously agree with, this guy approves of one extended scene in the Director's Cut, which is flat-out wrong.  Every scene or added footage to existing scenes in the Director's Cut detracts from the film.

If you want a truly in-depth analysis of the film in great detail by someone who says this is his all-time favorite movie give this series a try.  It features a lot of the film's narrative detail. He seems to prefer the Director's Cut but I'll let his error slide because most of this stuff is really insightful to watch.  Altogether this analysis is longer than the original film, but it is worth it if you have the time!

[Part 1] [Part 2 [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]