Review of Amadeus (1984) by Jmh — 06 May 2012

How better to tell a story of mediocrity, the average human condition, than by telling a story of a genius through the eyes of a mediocrity? Amadeus is not a film about Mozart, played flamboyantly by Tom Hulce; it's a film about his contemporary Antonio Salieri, played by F.

Murray Abraham as a sort of composer-everyman. The film's plot is largely fictional, with its earliest source in Alexandr Pushkin's 1830 Mozart and Salieri. Salieri blames God for meting out the greatest gift He could offer a composer, genius, with cruel unfairness.

Salieri feels he's a devoted servant of God, via his music. But comes Mozart, in Salieri's eyes a pagan who nonetheless creates, sans effort, music Salieri knows to be genius -- this "idle loafer" (per Pushkin) has been granted God's gift.

Salieri can't accept this injustice, and he plots Mozart's death, all the while hearing the voice of God in Mozart's art. Herein, Amadeus tackles two eternal themes in man's relationship with genius. The seeming arbitrariness of genius -- placed in select hands -- belittles ordinary men.

Yet the product of genius raises ordinary men beyond the brutalities of worldly existence. Most of us are mediocrities mocked and enlightened by some form of genius we don't fully comprehend. Accordingly, Salieri's mission takes on ironic motive: "I speak for all mediocrities in the world.

I am their champion. I am their patron saint." Taking a step back, should genius be stamped out because it's inegalitarian by nature, or relished because it enlightens the vulgar masses of which we're a part? Director Milos Forman allows both possibilities to play out brilliantly.

And from Forman there are deeper questions, as the Czechoslovakian-born director lost his parents in the Holocaust and emigrated to the U.S. when the Soviets invaded his homeland. Most specifically, does genius have the potential to save men from themselves and their worst collective impulses? At its heart, Amadeus asserts, emphatically, that it does.