*** 1/2 (Out of four)

Rating: 10/10 (18 September 1999)

There's a certain structure in Milos Forman's "Amadeus" which is bewitching in allegory, even if it proves somewhat shaky in execution. Based on Peter Shaffer's play, "Amadeus" illustrates in flashback through narrator Antonio Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) the contradictive genius behind child prodigy Mozart (Tom Hulce), a man with a gift for musical symphony underlying a childish, though unintentional facade. Caught in a tug-of-war between 18th-century censorship techniques of the Viennese court of Emperor Joseph II (Jeffrey Jones) and his own regrettable appreciation of Mozart's revolutionary genius, Salieri embarks upon a subplot which occasionally results in him being lost in his own autobiography. This flaw would be more glaring if it weren't for a magnificent performance by Abraham as a man slighted by divinity.
The movie begins with Salieri's confession to a priest in a hospital following his suicide attempt. After claiming to have "killed Mozart", Salieri proceeds to explain his motivations. These originated with Salieri's childhood dream of becoming a "musical instrument" for God, only to be taunted by the Almighty through Mozart's melodious compositions. Aghast at the aspect, Salieri forsakes Him and proceeds to plan his own bitter destruction of the "beloved of God".
Even if the film were nothing more than a costume epic, it would still be a marvel to watch. Women in busts barely concealing their cleavage and men whose masculinity protrude through even the most rigid of wear personify the lust still inherent beneath all those layers of decoration. Patrizia von Brandenburg's set designs are nothing short of immaculate with their lavish plethora of details.
The film's goal to balance Salieri's jealousy with Mozart's musical martyrdom seems at times implausible. If the story is seen through Salieri's eyes, how can it intrude upon Mozart's married life? Indeed, during the film's central act, Salieri tends to disappear for long stretches at a time.
Nevertheless, one could make the argument that it is necessary to detail both lives in order to show the turmoil between conservative aristocracy and Mozart's vastly underappreciated compositions. Of course, like Forman's "The People vs. Larry Flynt", the film makes inevitable comparisons to the modern-day debate of expression, including the emperor's traditional beliefs that there are "too many notes!" in Mozart's work. This sort of modernized, countercultural philosophy is presented not only in Mozart's uninhibitedness, but also in various other elements: the unapproving father, the conservative establishment and the eventual degradation of classics into more accessible media, such as the vaudevillian treatment "Don Giovanni" receives. Indeed Salieri, through the amazingly subtle actions of Abraham, sees the future and "speaks for all mediocrity" in condemning those whose extraordinary talents put others who are merely ordinary to shame. This is an instinctual part of human nature: from schoolboy to occupationist, from 18th-century Austria to 20th-century America, there will always be those envious of one's superior talent. But Forman and Abraham dramatize just how hard it is to pass the torch to potential scene-stealers. While Mozart's music may lift us to otherworldly elevations, Salieri's story entrenches us into our own humanity.