Amadeus (1984)

Miloš Forman’s Amadeus is one of the most acclaimed films of the 1980s — a sweeping, operatic, and visually stunning biographical drama that explores the life, genius, and tragic death of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart through the envious eyes of his rival, Antonio Salieri.

Based on Peter Shaffer’s Tony Award-winning stage play, the film is not a straightforward biography but rather a meditation on genius, mediocrity, jealousy, and the relationship between man and God. With its lavish production design, powerful performances, and evocative score, Amadeus remains one of cinema’s finest historical dramas, and a landmark in the portrayal of classical music on film.

Set in Vienna at the height of the Classical period, the story unfolds as a confession told by an aged Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) from his asylum cell. Attempting suicide and burdened by guilt, Salieri recounts his rivalry with Mozart to a young priest. Through extended flashbacks, we are transported to the glittering court of Emperor Joseph II (Jeffrey Jones), where Salieri serves as court composer.

Salieri, a devout and ambitious man, has dedicated his life to God in exchange for the gift of musical talent. When the irreverent, childish, yet musically transcendent Mozart (Tom Hulce) arrives on the scene, Salieri is at first enthralled by the young composer’s genius — but soon becomes consumed by envy. Salieri cannot reconcile Mozart’s divine gift with his coarse, vulgar personality, nor with his own mediocrity despite his piety. This sets in motion Salieri’s gradual moral downfall, as he plots to ruin Mozart’s reputation, sabotage his career, and ultimately push him towards an early grave.

At its heart, Amadeus is less about Mozart than about Salieri’s psychological torment. It explores profound questions: Why does genius so often reside in flawed or undeserving vessels? Why do the devout and faithful sometimes feel overlooked by the God they worship? The film is a masterful study of envy, presenting Salieri as both villain and tragic figure — a man who recognises greatness yet is destroyed by his inability to possess it.

F. Murray Abraham delivers a towering performance as Salieri, one that deservedly won him the Academy Award for Best Actor. He portrays Salieri across decades, from ambitious court composer to bitter, elderly recluse, with remarkable depth and nuance. His Salieri is by turns pitiable, chilling, sardonic, and heartbroken. Crucially, Abraham invites the audience to empathise with Salieri’s pain, even as we recoil from his actions.

Tom Hulce brings a mischievous energy to Mozart, infusing him with a boyish charm and anarchic humour. His infectious, high-pitched laugh — part of the film’s most memorable motifs — grates on Salieri and serves as a constant reminder of Mozart’s impudence. Yet Hulce also conveys Mozart’s fragility, insecurity, and loneliness, making his decline in the final act devastating.

The supporting cast is uniformly excellent. Elizabeth Berridge as Constanze, Mozart’s wife, gives a touching performance, balancing light-heartedness with moments of genuine emotional weight. Jeffrey Jones as Emperor Joseph II provides gentle comic relief, his famous line — “Too many notes” — highlighting the court’s inability to fully appreciate Mozart’s brilliance.

Miloš Forman, who had previously directed One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, brings a grand, almost operatic vision to the film. His direction is sweeping yet intimate, juxtaposing the splendour of Vienna’s opera houses and palaces with the claustrophobic spaces of Mozart’s cramped lodgings and Salieri’s confession chamber.

Peter Shaffer’s screenplay is a triumph of adaptation, expanding on his play while maintaining its dramatic core. The decision to frame the narrative through Salieri’s confession adds a confessional, almost biblical dimension, with Salieri casting himself as both accuser and penitent. The dialogue is rich and lyrical, often mirroring the musicality of the very works being discussed.

Unsurprisingly, music is the soul of Amadeus. The film uses Mozart’s compositions not merely as background but as an active narrative force, allowing the audience to experience Salieri’s awe firsthand. One of the film’s most breathtaking sequences is the scene in which Salieri examines Mozart’s original scores, hearing the music in his mind as the camera lingers on the notes. It is a cinematic love letter to Mozart’s genius.

The soundtrack, supervised by Sir Neville Marriner and performed by the Academy of St Martin in the Fields, became a bestselling classical album and helped introduce Mozart’s music to a new generation.

Miroslav Ondříček’s cinematography bathes the film in warm candlelight and rich period detail, evoking the look of 18th-century oil paintings. The production design is sumptuous, with authentic costumes, wigs, and locations (filmed primarily in Prague) that transport viewers fully into Mozart’s Vienna.

The film’s attention to detail extends to its depiction of opera and music-making. The staging of Mozart’s operas, including The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovanni, is lovingly recreated, offering audiences a sense of the theatrical spectacle that made these works revolutionary in their time.

Amadeus was a critical and commercial triumph upon its release, winning eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Abraham), and Best Adapted Screenplay. Its success helped revive interest in classical music during the 1980s, introducing Mozart’s works to audiences who might otherwise never have encountered them.

While the film takes historical liberties — the real-life rivalry between Salieri and Mozart was far less dramatic — its psychological insight and dramatic power remain undiminished. It is a work of historical fiction, not biography, and in this capacity it succeeds brilliantly.

Today, Amadeus is regarded as one of the greatest films ever made, often cited as a model of how to blend history, drama, and music into compelling cinema. Its themes of jealousy, divine injustice, and the price of genius are universal and timeless.

Amadeus is a masterpiece — a sumptuous, emotionally charged exploration of genius and envy, elevated by masterful performances, a powerful script, and a score that is among the finest ever used in film. It is as much a tragedy about Salieri’s spiritual destruction as it is about Mozart’s demise, and it lingers with viewers long after the final, haunting absolution scene.

An operatic, emotionally rich epic that captures the divine brilliance of Mozart while exploring the darkest recesses of envy and ambition. Amadeus is not only one of the greatest films of the 1980s, but one of the greatest films ever made.