Amadeus (1984) - IMDb IMDb There was an error trying to load your rating for this title. Some parts of this page won't work property. Please reload or try later. X Beta I'm Watching This! Keep track of everything you watch; tell your friends. Error The incredible story of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart , told by his peer and secret rival Antonio Salieri - now confined to an insane asylum. Director: Peter Shaffer (original stage play), Peter Shaffer (original screenplay) Stars: From $2.99 (SD) on Amazon Video ON DISC a list of 25 titles created 03 Jul 2011 a list of 21 titles created 11 Jan 2013 a list of 22 titles created 26 Jun 2014 a list of 21 titles created 28 Jan 2015 a list of 37 titles created 5 months ago Search for " Amadeus " on Amazon.com Connect with IMDb Want to share IMDb's rating on your own site? Use the HTML below. You must be a registered user to use the IMDb rating plugin. Won 8 Oscars.

Another 33 wins & 14 nominations. See more awards » Videos In Chicago in September 1936, a young con man seeking revenge for his murdered partner teams up with a master of the big con to win a fortune from a criminal banker. Director: George Roy Hill A criminal pleads insanity after getting into trouble again and once in the mental institution rebels against the oppressive nurse and rallies up the scared patients. Director: Milos Forman Gandhi's character is fully explained as a man of nonviolence. Through his patience, he is able to drive the British out of the subcontinent. And the stubborn nature of Jinnah and his commitment towards Pakistan is portrayed. Director: Richard Attenborough A sexually frustrated suburban father has a mid-life crisis after becoming infatuated with his daughter's best friend. Director: Sam Mendes When his secret bride is executed for assaulting an English soldier who tried to rape her, William Wallace begins a revolt against King Edward I of England.

Director: Mel Gibson 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 8.3/10 X In future Britain, Alex DeLarge, a charismatic and psycopath delinquent, who likes to practice crimes and ultra-violence with his gang, is jailed and volunteers for an experimental aversion therapy developed by the government in an effort to solve society's crime problem - but not all goes according to plan. Director: Stanley Kubrick In Casablanca, Morocco in December 1941, a cynical American expatriate meets a former lover, with unforeseen complications. Director: Michael Curtiz The story of T.E. Lawrence , the English officer who successfully united and led the diverse, often warring, Arab tribes during World War I in order to fight the Turks. Director: David Lean Atticus Finch, a lawyer in the Depression-era South, defends a black man against an undeserved rape charge, and his children against prejudice. Director: Robert Mulligan Following the death of a publishing tycoon, news reporters scramble to discover the meaning of his final utterance.

Director: Orson Welles A Polish Jewish musician struggles to survive the destruction of the Warsaw ghetto of World War II. Director: Roman Polanski A young recruit in Vietnam faces a moral crisis when confronted with the horrors of war and the duality of man. Director: Oliver Stone Edit Storyline Antonio Salieri believes that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 's music is divine and miraculous. He wishes he was himself as good a musician as Mozart so that he can praise the Lord through composing. He began his career as a devout man who believes his success and talent as a composer are God's rewards for his piety. He's also content as the respected, financially well-off, court composer of Austrian Emperor Joseph II. But he's shocked to learn that Mozart is such a vulgar creature, and can't understand why God favored Mozart to be his instrument. Salieri's envy has made him an enemy of God whose greatness was evident in Mozart. He is ready to take revenge against God and Mozart for his own musical mediocrity. Written by Khaled Salem Did You Know?

Trivia The piece of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 's music with the oboe and clarinet themes, whose score Salieri so deeply admires in the early scenes, is the Adagio, or third movement, of the Serenade No. 10 in B-flat, KV361, also known as "Gran Partita". See more » Goofs Near the end when the bed-ridden Mozart is dictating a movement of his Requiem to Salieri, he tells him to write the bass instruments' notes as the "tonic and dominant" pitches in the key of A minor. But the notes that play, and the notes that actually appear in the score, are the tonic and sub-dominant. See more » Quotes Amadeus Movie Review & Film Summary (1984) | Roger Ebert Tweet Happy people are pleased by the happiness of others. The miserable are poisoned by envy. They vote with Gore Vidal and David Merrick , both credited with saying, "It is not enough that I succeed.

Others must fail." Milos Forman 's "Amadeus" is not about the genius of Mozart but about the envy of his rival Salieri, whose curse was to have the talent of a third-rate composer but the ear of a first-rate music lover, so that he knew how bad he was, and how good Mozart was. Advertisement The most moving scene in the movie takes place at Mozart's deathbed, where the great composer, only 35, dictates the final pages of his great "Requiem" to Salieri, sitting at the foot of the bed with quill and manuscript, dragging the notes from Mozart's fevered brain. This scene is moving not because Mozart is dying, but because Salieri, his lifelong rival, is striving to extract from the dying man yet another masterpiece that will illuminate how shabby Salieri's work is. Salieri hates Mozart but loves music more, and cannot live without yet one more work that he can resent for its perfection. True, Salieri plans to claim the work as his own--but for a man like him, that will be one more turn of the screw. "Amadeus" (1984) swept the Academy Awards and had a considerable popular success.

When you consider that 98 percent of the American public never listens to a classical music station, it is astonishing that Mozart became for a time a best-seller, and not only to women assured by talk-show gurus that his music boosted the IQs of embryos. The movie's success is partly explained, I think, by its strategy of portraying Mozart not as a paragon whose greatness is a burden to us all, but as a goofy proto-hippie with a high-pitched giggle, an overfondness for drink, and a buxom wife who liked to chase him on all fours. This is not a vulgarization of Mozart, but a way of dramatizing that true geniuses rarely take their own work seriously, because it comes so easily for them. Great writers (Nabokov, Dickens, Wodehouse) make it look like play. Almost-great writers (Mann, Galsworthy, Wolfe) make it look like Herculean triumph. It is as true in every field; compare Shakespeare to Shaw, Jordan to Barkley, Picasso to Rothko, Kennedy to Nixon.

Salieri could strain and moan and bring forth tinkling jingles; Mozart could compose so joyously that he seemed, Salieri complained, to be "taking dictation from God." Advertisement "Amadeus" was brought forth by the independent producer Saul Zaentz (" One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest ," " The Unbearable Lightness of Being ," " The English Patient "), who brought Peter Shaffer's play and assigned the playwright to adapt it with the director Milos Forman. Zaentz's pattern, as you can see, is to take literary successes that seem unfilmable--too ambitious, too specialized--and film them. Forman, a Czech filmmaker who turned his back on the Russians and came to work in America, but not exactly in Hollywood, had directed "Cuckoo's Nest" (1975), " Hair " (1981) and " Ragtime " (1984). The key precursor is "Hair." He sees Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart as a spiritual brother of the hippies who thumbed their noses at convention, muddled their senses with intoxicants, and delighted in lecturing their elders.

In a film where everybody wears wigs, Mozart's wigs (I noted in my original review) do not look like everybody else's. They have just the slightest suggestion of punk, just the smallest shading of pink. There is something about Mozart's Vienna apartment, especially toward the end, that reminds you of the pad of a newly-rich rock musician: The rent is sky-high, the furnishings are sparse and haphazard, work is scattered everywhere, housekeeping has been neglected, there are empty bottles in the corners, and the bed is the center of life. The flower child Mozart tries to govern his life, unsuccessfully, by the lights of three older men. His father Leopold ( Roy Dotrice ) trained the child genius to amaze the courts of Europe, but now stands aside, disapproving, at the untidy mess Mozart has made of his adulthood. His patron, Emperor Joseph II ( Jeffrey Jones ) passes strict rules (no ballet in operas!) but cannot enforce them because, God love him, he enjoys what he would forbid. Then there is Salieri (F. Murray Abraham), who poses as his friend while plotting against him, sabotaging productions, blocking appointments.

The irony (not least to Salieri) is that Salieri is honored and admired while Mozart is so new and unfamiliar that no one knows how good he is, except Salieri. Even the emperor, who indulges him, is as amused by Mozart's insolence as by his art. Mozart's role in the court of Joseph II is as the fool, saying truth wrapped in giggles. Mozart's ally in his struggles with authority is his wife Constanze ( Elizabeth Berridge ), who seems a child, stays too late in bed, calls him "Wolfie," but yet has a good head for business and a sharp eye for treachery. Advertisement The film is told in flashback by Salieri at the end of his life, confined in a madhouse, confiding to a young priest. He thinks perhaps he killed Mozart. It is more likely Mozart killed himself, by some deadly cocktail of tuberculosis and cirrhosis, but Salieri seems to have killed Mozart's art, and for that he feels remorse. It is all there in Mozart's deathbed scene: The agony of the older rival who hates to lose, who would lie and betray, and yet cannot deny that the young man's music is sublime.

The movie was shot on location in Forman's native Prague, one of a handful of European cities still in large parts unchanged since the 18th century. The film is a visual feast of palaces, costumes, wigs, feasts, opening nights, champagne, and mountains of debt. Mozart never had enough money, or much cared; Salieri had money, but look at his face when people snicker behind his back while he plays one of his compositions, and you will see what small consolation it was. "Director's cuts" are a mixed blessing in this age of the DVD. Many of them seem inspired entirely by the desire to sell another video. Forman says his new version of "Amadeus," which runs 20 minutes longer than the 1984 version, is in fact the original cut: Afraid that a historical biopic about Mozart would find tough sailing at the box office, Forman and Zaentz made trims for pragmatic reasons. The major addition to the film is a scene explaining more fully why Constanze has such contempt for Salieri.

Salieri, the court composer, has in his gift a lucrative appointment that, he explains to the young bride, will be her husband's--if she will grant Salieri her favors. Since there is little indication that Salieri has any great interest in women (or in anything, other than Mozart) this favor seems motivated not by sexual desire but by the need to humiliate Mozart. Constanze, desperate to help her Wolfie, does indeed visit Salieri at his apartments, and bares her breasts before having second thoughts. Advertisement In a film of grand gestures, some of the finest moments are very subtle. Notice the way Jeffrey Jones, as the emperor, balances his duty to appear serious and his delight in Mozart's impudence. Watch Jones' face as he decides he may have been wrong to ban ballet from opera. And watch Abraham's face as he internalizes envy, resentment and rage. What a smile he puts on the face of his misery! Then watch his face again at Mozart's deathbed, as he takes the final dictation. He knows how good it is. And he knows at that moment there is only one thing he loves more than himself, and that is Mozart's music.

Popular Blog Posts The Film Amadeus (A Very Short Discussion) Click on cover to see IMDB site (new window) Film Overview Amadeus was a 1984 film adapted from a stage play of the same name by Peter Shaffer. It examines Mozart's (mostly later) life from the perspective of court composer Antonio Salieri, whom the film portrays as the force behind Mozart's early death, his failure to succeed financially, and also his rival. The film opens with the violent scene of Salieri's suicide attempt in 1823 Vienna. Salieri is taken to asylum where he spends the rest of his life. It takes the form of Salieri's recounting the past while a priest sits with him, offering to take Salieri's confession. Salieri recounts his unfortunate life-- his father, being a merchant, has no regard for music education, unlike Mozart. As Salieri talks more and more about Mozart, we start to see the actual interrelation of the two composers' lives, and Mozart is introduced as a rude, socially awkward and childish individual who pays no heed to his superiors yet has been gifted with a musical genius Salieri did not possess.

The film proceeds to an intertwining sequence of the lives of both Salieri and Mozart. Salieri attempts to win against God to "send him(Mozart) away" elsewhere by using his power as a court composer to make things difficult for Mozart's career, and later even plotting his death. Mozart, on the other hand, is struggling on his own as he tries to gain permanent employment in Vienna, while doing commissions such as operas, divertimenti, and concertos. Soon, things start to look grim financially for Mozart. His expenses are growing due to his lavish lifestyle, with a large house in Vienna as well as a multitude of costume parties which he participates in and hosts. It is at this time that Salieri, disguised as the image of the deceased Leopold, visits Mozart and commissions a requiem mass to be composed for an unknown patron. Mozart, in desperation, accepts the payment and commences work on the commission immediately. Mozart's health begins to worsen as he works on the Requiem.

On the premiere day of The Magic Flute, while playing the accompaniment part for a solo, Mozart collapses to the ground and is hauled backstage while the opera director hastily has to continue what Mozart had been playing. Bedridden in his home, Mozart dictates parts of the Requiem to Salieri, who notates. Mozart dies shortly after his wife Constanze returns from the spa. The film ends again in the "present" (when Salieri is already old and in the asylum) with Salieri giving blessings to his insane fellow patients. Points of Interest: This film should NOT be viewed as an accurate representation of either Mozart or Salieri's life. A lot of it is fiction and this can be verified by historians, musicologists, and just common sense at times. 1. Salieri's murder of Mozart Very, very unlikely. Salieri was not close enough to Mozart to have done something like what happened in the movie. Salieri was insane and in asylum when he “confessed” to the murder of Mozart. The “confession” may well be a complete fabrication of time. Mozart did not die the day after The Magic Flute premiered. He survived despite deteriorating health and died a few months later.

In reality, doctors believe that Mozart died most likely of heart failure due to rheumatic fever. 2. Portrayal of Mozart It is highly unllikely that he was as childish as depicted in the movie—court rules were established and he knew how to act in a given situation, i.e., he may have joked around with friends and family but never in the presence of his audience, musical colleagues, etc. This was someone who had been touring the courts of Europe since the age of six. Music did not come to Mozart like nothing, he worked long hours on it (there is even a quote from Mozart himself about this) 3. Mozart and Salieri As stated in (1), there is a high probability that Mozart's relationship with Salieri was at most as musical colleagues, not rivals or close friends. Salieri did not commission the requiem, as portrayed in the film, and he did not assist Mozart in completing it. The fiction was probably inserted into the film as dramatic elements. 4. Salieri's Talent as a Composer Watching Amadeus, one gets the impression that the music of Salieri is far inferior to that of Mozart in quality. This is NOT the case.

Salieri was the court composer (a very respectable position) for the imperial court of the Austrian Empire. His talents at the very least equaled almost every other composer of the time, and as he describes at the beginning of the film, he was at a time one of the most successful musicians in Europe. Salieri was important not only as a composer but as a teacher: Among his pupils were Beethoven, Schubert, Sussmayr (who completed Mozart's Requiem!), and Czerny. Financially, it can be said that he was far more successful career-wise than Mozart ever was. Major Compositions used in the Film: Symphony No. 25 in G Minor, K. 184 (main title theme) Symphony No. 29 in A Major, K. 201 Concerto for Two Pianos in E-Flat, K. 365 (Piano Concerto No. 10) Piano Concerto No. 20 in D Minor, K. 466 Piano Concerto No. 22 in E-Flat, K. 482 Wind Serenade, K. 361 Mass in C Minor, K. 427 Requiem Mass in D Minor, K.

626 From Operas: Deep Focus Review - The Definitives - Amadeus (1984) Original Release Date: 09/19/1984 In Latin, the name Amadeus means “love of God” or, in other words, the object of God’s adoration. How appropriate then that Peter Shaffer chose this name as the title of his 1979 stage play about Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, from which director Milos Forman and Shaffer elaborated into the 1984 film Amadeus. Told from the perspective of Antonio Salieri, the pious Venetian court composer who so desires God’s grace, the story comes from the vantage point of an unreliable narrator, a man so twisted by feelings of admiration and jealousy and betrayal that his perceptions distort history into a powerful, if subjective account. Despite the title, the film does not trace Mozart’s genius, rather the envy of Salieri, whose modest talent was such that he could not compete with his artistic rival, only appreciate the gift that God had chosen to bestow on someone else.

As a historical biography, there are few motion pictures that take greater liberties with history; yet as a dramatic piece of cinema, there are few that match its splendors and delight. Legendary independent producer Saul Zaentz, whose reputation for making “unfilmable” literary texts into award-winning films (such as Unbearable Lightness of Being and The English Patient ), reteamed with his One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest director Forman on the production. Zaentz commissioned Shaffer to rewrite his play into a suitable script and, working closely with Forman, Shaffer developed his stage piece into a film that would require elaborate sets, staged productions of Mozart’s operas, and exclusive use of Mozart’s compositions almost as the film’s diegetic and non-diegetic music. From a film studio’s perspective, Zaentz and Forman’s period piece about an eighteenth century classical composer did not arouse instant confidence, the subject being atypical box-office bait.

And yet, something about Amadeus would draw considerable crowds and lead to it sweeping the 1985 Academy Awards with eight Oscars in all, including awards for Best Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay, Costume Design, Art Direction, Makeup, Sound Mixing, and Actor (F. Murray Abraham). Perhaps audiences were and still are so struck by the film because it resolves not to attempt to understand the gift of incomparable talent, but rather to admire it from a distance with equal parts awe and resentment—a more relatable notion indeed. Amadeus opens with a suicide attempt. In the 1820s, an aging Antonio Salieri (Abraham) slashes himself with a razor when his long-harbored guilt over causing the death of his idol, Mozart (Tom Hulce), becomes too much to bear. Restrained in an asylum, he offers his story as confession to a priest, setting his late, humble origins as a composer against Mozart’s emergence as a child prodigy.

In 1781, Salieri, a Court Composer to Emperor Joseph II (Jeffrey Jones), followed Mozart’s career from a distance and stands in wonder of his gift—a gift so profound he deems that it could only be imparted by God. To this effect, Salieri has offered Him a life of chastity and abstinence so that, in exchange, he too might receive the talent to create music to appease the Almighty. Still, Salieri’s adequate skill and reputation is overshadowed, which is something Salieri seems inclined to accept until he first meets “The Creature”, as he later calls Mozart. A childish, philandering, scatologically-obsessed jester with an absurd chortle, Mozart’s indecency in the face of his own God-given talent horrifies Salieri, who believes God has touched the wrong individual. At first, Salieri only questions God’s judgment, until Mozart’s moral deprivation—and Salieri’s resultant humiliation—becomes too much. Salieri decides to quiet God’s ill-chosen instrument by plotting Mozart’s ultimate ruin, even while he remains a devoted admirer.

Forman’s production relishes in extravagant details, enough to make the film a wonder of pure visual stimulation, even if that does not equate to historical accuracy. Larger-than-life powdered wigs and elaborate costume design by Theodor Pistek capture the ostentatious trends of the period, but also exaggerate styles present in eighteenth century Vienna, while borrowing from French styles of the era perpetuated by Marie Antoinette, Joseph II’s sister. Cinematographer Miroslav Ondrícek shoots night scenes by candlelight, but with an amazing clarity and atmosphere. The production was filmed in Forman’s native Czechoslovakia, in Prague, where, unlike most now-modern European cities, the architecture retained the production’s desired centuries-old appearance. As a result, Forman’s crew was required to build few sets of their own (only one of Mozart’s opera houses, Mozart’s apartment, and a few other interiors), and location shooting was utilized for an unquestionable transportive quality. Prague’s Estates Theatre was used to film several opera scenes and was the actual location where Mozart premiered his operas Don Giovanni and La Clemenza di Tito in 1787 and 1791, respectively.

But from a historical standpoint, Shaffer’s script abandons strict detail to instead tell a compelling story with moments that may never have occurred but contain a pronounced drama. Biographical references to and characteristics of the film’s historical figures are exaggerated or altogether fabricated for their dramatic resonance, employing bits and pieces of historical fact or mystery as their source of inspiration. Consider how in the film Salieri uses his position to stop Mozart from acquiring a pupil—and thus a much-needed source of income for the talented but destitute composer—in the Princess of Württemberg. Historical record shows that Mozart applied for the position, but Salieri took the job instead, whereas the film puts forth that Salieri sat on the board that chose another composer entirely. In another subplot, it is suggested that singer Katerina Cavalieri (Christine Ebersole) has an affair with Mozart, though Salieri had long held affections for her but did not act upon them out of his chastity; historians have suggested that in all likelihood, Salieri, whose chastity was invented by Shaffer, no doubt bedded the singer.

The greatest deviation comes from the detail which finds Salieri donning the black costume worn by Mozart’s disapproving father (Roy Dotrice) earlier in the film; Salieri appears at Mozart’s door and, terrifying Mozart with the notion of a ghostly reminiscence of his dead father, commissions a death mass. History suggests the obscure figure Count Franz von Walsegg, a minor composer, hired an anonymous garbed figure to commission Mozart’s Requiem Mass with the intention of passing it off as his own. But these are just a few of the numerous, if negligible historical inconsistencies. Shaffer’s greatest deviations reside in his description of his titular character. Although evidence suggests Mozart’s sense of amusement was not above the scatological, surviving documents show nothing to determine that Mozart behaved as Hulce plays him—like a spoiled brat whose creative genius has been taken for granted, not because he is cruel or pitiless, but simply because it comes so easy to him.

Contrary to the factually vague accounts which make reference to how “some woman” described Mozart’s laugh, there exists no concrete evidence that implies the composer actually laughed in the hilarious way performed—a staccato series of harsh, high-pitched bursts that begin like a clown riding a washboard and then ease off into a self-conscious sigh, a sound brilliantly developed by Hulce. Even a characteristic not so specific, such as how Mozart conducts his opera, is chosen for dramatic effect. Operas of the eighteenth century were not directed by a sole conductor standing front-and-center; rather, a concertmaster instructed the orchestra while a conductor was off to the side playing a fortepiano. Although toward the end of Amadeus, during a performance of The Magic Flute, Mozart is seen at a fortepiano, the majority of the film shows Mozart conducting the orchestra alone. Despite its inaccuracy, the film’s low-angle shot from the orchestra’s perspective, looking up at its conductor, has become an indelible one not only for this film, but to be repeated in any subsequent motion picture involving a classical or modern composer.

Pointing out these historical deviations is not to discredit Shaffer’s screenplay or Forman’s production, only enhance the viewer’s appreciation of how cleverly both men have manipulated history into a compelling story about the artistic process and its consequences. After all, Amadeus does not have an objective presentation told in the stodgy, timeline-following manner of most historical biopics. Instead, Shaffer chooses to create this melodrama through Salieri, who, by all accounts cannot be trusted to give us an accurate depiction of what really happened. In Salieri’s mind, perhaps Mozart laughs the way he does because Salieri finds the man absurd, an embarrassment to piety everywhere. Perhaps Mozart jumps up and down like an angry adolescent who wants a toy because Salieri sees him an ill-mannered whiz kid that never grew up. Mozart’s character has been so distorted by Salieri’s resentment that to bother with any kind of historical assessment of Amadeus equates to believing every word of an insane person, and in the final scene, Forman shows us how truly mad Salieri has become by placing him out among the lunatics.

In the film’s last scene, Salieri is rolled out among them and he greets them with open arms, smiling, absolving them of their madness. And from this man we expect historical accuracy? Forman capture the chaos of Salieri’s nineteenth century lunatic asylum recalls similar scenes of madness in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, scenes littered with naked, decrepit men running about, screaming obscenities and other nonsense, some shackled to the wall and others locked inside pens that in scale are smaller than a birdcage. Abraham earns his Oscar by portraying Salieri as a man of painful inner conflict. Every smile has a double-meaning, a hidden hurt, as Salieri remains torn between his jealousy for Mozart and his wholehearted admiration of the genius’ music. But this character is torn in other ways as well. He prides himself for abstaining from women and drink, yet cannot help himself around sweets. Always at his desk or atop his instructing piano rests a dish of candy morsels. When Salieri first sees Mozart, he looks for someone who appears to have been venerated by God.

While looking, he finds himself distracted by servants setting out a luxurious feast; he regards the spread and lets out a quiet moan of food ecstasy, and later sneaks into the room alone to steal a truffle. Salieri’s vice may not fall into gluttonous extremes, but in this single incidence he has given in to his own temptation. How duplicitous or simply self-unaware then that in his accounts to the priest, he portrays himself as an obedient servant of the Lord, completely oblivious to his own double standard and convenient condemnation of Mozart. In 2002, Forman and Warner Bros. unveiled a “Director’s Cut” that restored 20 minutes to the original cut’s PG-rated runtime of 161 minutes. In the extended cut, we learn more about Salieri’s hypocrisy in the face of God in a reincorporated subplot. When Mozart’s wife, the equally unrefined yet comparably levelheaded Constanze (Elizabeth Berridge), appeals to Salieri to grant her irresponsible husband an instructing position for the Princess of Württemberg, Salieri responds by proposing that she secure Mozart’s position with a sexual encounter.

Reluctantly, Constanze agrees and returns that evening to meet Salieri. She disrobes and stands before him topless; he regards her for a moment, and then calls on his servant to escort Constanze out. Such cruelty and humiliation underscores how perverse Salieri has become in seeking God’s approval, and later explains why she holds stern disapproval for Salieri when he helps Mozart on his death bed, a point that was unclear in the original cut. (Incidentally, for this subplot, fuelled by shame and embarrassment rather than raw sexuality, Amadeus was unfortunately struck with an R-rating upon its re-release, reminding us why the MPAA earns their reputation as an inconsistent organization.) Just as Salieri’s view of himself is mutated, his reasoning of God’s desires range from tragic to disturbing, as shown on the young priest’s face. Played by Richard Frank, Father Vogler is Salieri’s sole audience member and listens as the raconteur weaves a sort of warped logic out of his misfortunes, all of which he blames on God.

Mozart’s death gives way to the most powerful scene in Amadeus, which finds the composer suffering from exhaustion on his deathbed, and Salieri, who has tricked Mozart into writing a “death mass” so that he might steal it for himself and play it at Mozart’s funeral, offering to take dictation. As the story progresses, at times Vogler appears understanding and even enthralled by Salieri’s account; others, Salieri’s tale becomes unfortunate or tragic because, as Vogler’s face tells us, he believes so wholeheartedly that God controls all, that when his life goes awry, God becomes an unforgivable monster, cruel and mocking to such extremes that not even Vogler can defend. Vogler appears devastated and speechless in the final scenes, perhaps out of shock over Salieri’s murderous actions, perhaps from the misfortune that piety has brought forth. Faith has driven Salieri mad. In one way or another, God’s influence equates to a form of internal madness, in which his presence results in something that occurs inside one’s head—be it the justification of a murder or artistic inspiration.

Both Salieri and Mozart experience music in their mind, for example, and Forman plays that music for his audience so that we might understand the creative process. But consider how these scenes might look without the music. Early in the film, Father Vogler watches as Salieri demonstrates Mozart’s music on a piano, but then Salieri loses himself in the moment; his hands rise from the piano and begin orchestrating into the air, into nothingness, an expression of sheer elation on his face. Vogler looks on with what might be described as pity. But without the music to accompany this scene, the audience might be tempted to disregard Salieri’s testimony as that of a madman (or, at least, they would come to such a conclusion much earlier than they should). At the end of the film, when Mozart dictates lines of music for Requiem Mass in D Minor, Forman plays the composer’s progression of instruments and choir vocals as Mozart conceives them, Salieri struggling to keep up with his transcription as artistic inspiration unfolds before him. Hulce drifts in an out of his falsetto singing of the notes, his fingers twitching away to the tempo playing in his head.

Mozart is driven by something, but is it the same authority that inspires Salieri to destroy the thing he admires most? Of course, the music of Amadeus, nearly all Mozart’s and performed by England’s Academy of St. Martin in the Fields conducted by Sir Neville Marriner, raises the production, adding grandiosity to the drama and in turn enhancing the film into—in same cases literally—operatic realms. Several scenes are filled by on-stage performances in which diegetic music drives the moment. Most ingenious is how Forman and Shaffer carefully place Mozart’s music in non- diegetic ways to accompany scenes, selecting compositions to define not only a moment within the film’s dramatic structure but also to exhibit Mozart’s genius. When considering the alternative, such as an original motion picture score, there was no choice at all, really. The subject gives way to some of the best music ever written, and to not use that would be nothing short of foolish. At the 1985 Oscar ceremony, when Maurice Jarre won for A Passage to India, he quipped at how lucky he was that the music of Amadeus, not being an original score, could not be nominated.

Beyond the music, Amadeus transcends its narrative and even themes through its full embrace of pure filmmaking—sumptuous visual and aural pleasures, incredible performances, and grandly directed scenes over a haughty biographical analysis. Deeply cinematic flourishes in art design, magnificently ornamented sets and costumes, and the sheer dramatic profundity of what becomes a severe comic tragedyare marked by playful quirks in characters that live and breathe in spite of their sometimes ostentatious behavior. Mozart’s representation as an eighteenth century rockstar transforms the material into something uniquely accessible and remarkably fun for a costume drama about a classical composer, as does Salieri’s destructive jealousy over Mozart’s brilliance. After all, have we not all wished that we could produce great art or perform a piece of inspired music as a true master? Like Salieri, we watch in bewilderment to grasp how unparalleled talent could come from such a buffoonish character. The film’s ongoing distinction between Mozart’s heavenly music and his juvenile behavior never ceases to charm or create a contrast that demands understanding for the creative process and the artist himself, less we go mad.

Sources: 1000+ images about Mozart on Pinterest | Getting to know, For kids and Violin Bestseller Books Online Who Was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart? Yona Zeldis McDonough $4.99 - See More Super Reviewer ½ When I reviewed A Royal Affair last year, I spoke about the two big challenges that any period or costume drama has to overcome. One is the reputation of the genre as one obsessed with surface rather than substance, and clothing rather then character development. The other is the issue of pacing, needing to capture an historical period with its slower technology and pace of life whilst also needed to tell a story at an endurable pace for modern audiences. While Nikolaj Arcel's film ultimately came through both tests with flying colours, Amadeus is only a partial success. It's an overly long film of two halves, which begins as silly and as frothy as one can get, and ends as something of a weighty, murky drama containing compelling ideas. It is as sumptuous as it is silly, and irritating as it is intriguing, but it does ultimately come through with the goods before it has completely overstayed its welcome.

Before we get to the meat and drink of Amadeus, it's worth taking a moment to address the issue of historical accuracy. It's something which can be boring to talk about, and which is often dragged up to discredit a film as it tries to garner awards. We can all think of examples of films which blatantly and consciously distort the truth, such as U-571, which credits the Americans, not the British, with cracking the Enigma code. But while capturing period detail should be praised on a technical level, historical accuracy is not a sign or guarantee of a good story. Film is a narrative medium, and with subjective allowances for taste and respect for an audience's intelligence, telling a good story is more important than getting the facts right. In the case of Amadeus, we are confronted with a story which is at best a long-discredited theory and at worst an utter fabrication. There is little or no evidence to suggest that Antonio Salieri was responsible for the death of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart; the fact that he taught one of Mozart's sons would suggest that they were actually on friendly, or at least respectful, terms. But neither the film nor Peter Shaffer's play have historical accuracy as their prime motive.

Both are more interested in telling a story about how rivalry manifests itself, and the relationship genius has with a world either not ready for it or unwilling to accommodate it. The question that follows is whether Mozart's life is the right vehicle for this kind of story, whose ruthless, scheming character might be more suited to a political thriller. When The Iron Lady was released, the director Phyllida Lloyd said she had wanted to make a film about dealing with age - the obvious criticism being that she could have told that story without making a biopic of Margaret Thatcher. In this case, however, Mozart is the ideal topic or vessel for this kind of story. His reputation and character fit closely with our cultural notions of what genius is, allowing Shaffer and director Milo Forman to get on with the storytelling. While the story itself is not problematic (at least not as a piece of entertainment), the storytelling in Amadeus is perhaps its biggest problem. The opening scenes look absolutely gorgeous: Miroslav Ond?í?ek, who worked with Lindsay Anderson on If...., pulls the audience in with a series of elegant, painterly images. But once the credits end and the action moves indoors, everything becomes very stagey.

The framing device of the elderly Salieri, relating his story to a priest in the asylum, is not successful, and the film works better the less it is employed. For most of its first hour, in either of its cuts, Amadeus is essentially a silly, frothy, overblown costume drama. It is far more interested in the costumes, the huge wigs and the pompous characters that wear them than it is in the creation of the music or the personalities behind it. The film employs broad comedy, usually in the form of fart jokes, and its recreation of opera is completely ridiculous. It doesn't have the grace or the understatement of Barry Lyndon, and makes you appreciate the comparative meatiness of The Madness of King George. Matters aren't helped in this regard by the annoying nature of the central character. Tom Hulce, a graduate of Animal House, is a good actor who clearly threw himself into the part: having never played piano before, he practised for more than four hours a day upon landing the role. But while his skills are not in doubt, his Mozart is one of the most annoying and excruciating characters outside of an Adam Sandler comedy.

Just as we aren't supposed to hate Salieri, so we are not expected to entirely like Mozart. But all his juvenile qualities are overplayed and repeated ad nauseum: it's not so much "too many notes" as too many laughs. As a result of both the framing device and the juvenile tone, we spend the first hour distant from our main characters. We are distant from Mozart because he's an irritating little twit, and we are distant from Salieri because his narration keeps interrupting the action. As a result the jealousy and scheming on the latter's part feels like a deliberate plot device rather than a natural result of their relationship. The words are still pleasant on the ear, but you are left wishing that Shaffer could write more like his namesake Anthony Shaffer, creator of Sleuth. About halfway in, specifically the section concerning Don Giovanni, Amadeus begins to pick itself up and grab its core themes by the scruff of the neck. The death of Mozart's father, and the composer's accompanying decline into illness, give the film not only a darker tone but a depth that it didn't have before.

The serious reaction to a tragic event gives the film more credibility: by taking the matter seriously, it allows us to take the characters more seriously and for Salieri's subsequent actions to carry more weight. The film merits a comparison in this regard with Rush, Ron Howard's thrilling drama about the rivalry between James Hunt and Niki Lauda. Both stories concern a rivalry between two talented men, but this rivalry is initially presented in a broad, overly playful way; the film is still entertaining, but we are conscious of how little is going on between its ears. Then something dark or unfortunate happens to one of the men which gives the drama a stake and the rivalry a meaning. Going dark is by no means a guarantee of a good story, but in both cases it is just what the films needed. The main theme which this dark turn enables to unfold is the conflict between genius and mediocrity, and how graceless the two can be. Mozart's genius is confronted by mediocrity on all sides - from Salieri, whose position as court composer is threatened; from the Prince, who has very limited taste; and from his courtiers who don't want their power to be undermined.

Neither Mozart nor Salieri conduct themselves well, with Mozart foregoing all decorum to defend his compositions, and Salieri working behind the scenes to bring about his downfall. Mozart's lack of social grace is mirrored by Salieri's lack of morals. The role of parents in Amadeus is a key one. Salieri's father discourages his son's ambitions, and his death serves as a (misplaced) vindication for Salieri, of both his Catholic faith and his musical ability. Mozart, by contrast, is spoiled rotten by his father, who recognises his abilities but struggles to contain them beyond presenting Mozart as a performing monkey. When his father was alive but out of the picture, Mozart is free to make a name for himself in a carefree manner - but with him dead, this carefree nature gives way to a desire for atonement, which leads him to work obsessively on the unfinished Requiem. The film is also interested in Catholicism, specifically the role God has in meting out talent and answering prayer. Salieri's prayers go unrewarded since he is asking God for the wrong things in the wrong way, seeking to curse rather than love his enemies.

At the end of the film, he comments that "God killed Mozart" rather than let him share in any part of his talent, including the transcription of the Requiem. While the film's theological understanding of gifts is not entirely sound, it is an interesting lens through which to view and depict jealousy. Much of the success of Amadeus lies in its music. Even in its weaker first half the music is wonderfully produced, conveying to us how great Mozart was instead of having people simply state his greatness, as in Gandhi. More importantly, Forman does succeed in making the creative process of writing and composing both cinematic and exciting. In one really special moment, Salieri flips through Mozart's portfolio, and hears the music on the page perfectly formed in his head. It's a wonderful moment which F. Murray Abraham superbly executes, keeping his character on a tightrope between envy and euphoria. Amadeus is a film of two distinct halves, with the virtues of its substantial second eventually winning out over the frothy excesses of its first. Once you get past the costumes, the wigs and the irritating laughter, it does become an interesting, memorable cinematic venture with a brace of pretty good performances.

It doesn't quite deserve the reputation that won it the Best Picture Oscar, but among even that select group of films, you could do a hell of a lot worse. Daniel Mumby Super Reviewer By bouts hilariously witty, nerve-wrackingly tense and profoundly moving, all the while beautifully shot and thoughtfully put together. An astounding achievement. Full review later. Thomas Bowler Mozart's Requiem: The Real Story of Mozart, Salieri, and Amadeus - In Mozart's Footsteps - Uncommon Musical Travel Posted on August 11, 2010 by David Nelson The movie Amadeus made Mozart a household name. It did more to bring his music into everyday life than a thousand concerts and compact disks. Peter Shaffer’s screenplay is an inspired piece of storytelling. It tells of how Antonio Salieri plotted to defeat Mozart. It is full of imagination and intrigue. Unfortunately, it is not 100% true. Let us separate fact from fiction regarding Mozart’s death. The ceiling of Mozart's bedroom. The apartment is now part of "Mozarthaus Vienna", a three-story museum right behind St. Stephen's Cathedral. For many years it was believed that Mozart was poisoned.

These rumors started as early as New Year’s Eve, 1791. An obituary in the Berlin’s Musikalische Wochenblatt reported Mozart is—dead. He was sickly when he returned home from Prague and remained ailing since then . . . Because his body swelled up after his death, it is even believed that he was poisoned. At times Mozart even believed this. When he was working on the Requiem he told his wife, “I feel it very acutely. It won’t be long now: I’ve surely been given poison! I can’t let go of that thought.” Constanze never believed it. Rauhensteingasse 8, where Mozart died, with St. Stephen's in the background. The story strengthened when Salieri “confessed” that he poisoned Mozart. Salieri was delusional in the last years of his life. But few of the people who heard his “confession” believed him. Shortly before his death, Salieri put the record straight. He said, although this is my last illness, I can assure you on my word of honor that there is no truth to that absurd rumor; you know that I am supposed to have poisoned Mozart.

The Russian dramatist Aleksander Pushkin must have believed the rumors. In 1830, he wrote a short play in which Salieri does poison Mozart. It is aptly titled “Mozart and Salieri.” If Mozart was not poisoned, then how did he die? The cause of death was first thought to be “feverish prickly heat.” Later it was thought to be a “liver condition with terminal uremia.” Currently two theories exist. A 1972 report suggests rheumatic fever. A more recent study proposes that Mozart had the following sequence of illnesses in his final three weeks: streptococcal infection, Schönlein-Henoch Syndrome, renal failure, venesection(s), cerebral hemorrhage, terminal broncho-pneumonia. A Fiaker (Viennese Horse-Drawn Carriage) in front of the Crucifix Chapel, site of Mozart's consecration. Finally, let’s look at the Requiem. Was the commission conceived by Salieri as a way to drive Mozart mad? No. Was it some malicious plot to make Mozart believe he was writing a requiem for himself? No. Was it commissioned by an anonymous messenger?

Yes, and that is where we need to begin. Count Franz Walsegg-Stuppach was a music lover and wealthy landowner from Lower Austria. On February 14, 1791, his young wife died. He came up an idea. He would commission Mozart to write a requiem mass that he would pass off as his own. It would be performed on the anniversary of his wife’s death. Walsegg-Stuppach asked a neighbor to be an anonymous messenger and contact the composer. The neighbor was Turkish. The foreign accent may have confused Mozart. Even after Mozart’s death, the Walsegg-Stuppach persisted with his deception. He copied the music (which had been completed by Mozart’s students) into his own handwriting. On December 11, 1793, he conducted it. It was entitled, “Requiem, composto del Conte Walsegg”! Sites to visit: Rauensteingasse 8 The site where Mozart died on December 5, 1791. Now a modern (and rather ugly!) department store with a plaque dedicated to Mozart. St.

Stephen’s Cathedral Mozart’s memorial was at the Crucifix Chapel, at the exit of the catacombs tour. There is a small memorial you can see from the outside of the building. Domgasse 5 A three-floor museum called “Mozarthaus Vienna”. Mozart lived here 1784-1787. It was his home that was depicted in “Amadeus” although he died in another home (Rauhensteingasse 9, above). This museum is one of my Top 5 Musical Sites in Vienna. Michaelerkirche (St. Michael’s Church, across from the entrance to the Hofburg) The parts of the Requiem that Mozart completed were performed here just five days after his death. You can see two plaques commemorating this to the right as you enter the church. Prater Vienna’s largest park. Mozart and his wife were walking here when he told her that he felt he had been poisoned. Vienna has some of the most famous coffee houses in the world, but you can still go to Starbucks across from the Hofburg! Share this: Your email address will not be published.

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Question: What is the title of the 1984 film about the life of composer Mozart?
Answer: Amadeus