A forty-year-old period piece about rival classical composers doesn’t seem like it would hold a lot of weight in today’s digitally-driven culture. On the surface, Amadeus (1984), is an opulent Oscar darling operating at the highest caliber in every department. (It won eight Academy Awards including Best Picture.) It details a fictional and petty rivalry between composers Antonio Salieri (F. Murray Abraham) and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Tom Hulce). What could this Oscar heavyweight possibly have to say about 2024?
In an era when people are constantly sharing pieces of themselves for external validation and art’s value is reduced to box office numbers and albums sold, Amadeus is the perfect movie for 2024 and perhaps more relevant than ever.
Salieri is a man with a deep love for music but limited talent. He is not untalented but can’t quite reach the heights of his peers. At one point, he appoints himself the patron saint of amateurs. Ultimately, his love and appreciation for the art supersede his shortcomings.
It is not until he meets Mozart that his limits begin to pose a problem.
Mozart is a childhood prodigy who swiftly rises in notoriety and skill. He’s accomplished more than Salieri could ever fathom in far less time with seemingly less effort. His genius comes easily. And Salieri resents him for it.
Salieri goes out of his way to make Mozart’s life harder and inserts himself in his personal affairs. He goes so far as to hire a maid to spy on Mozart and his family. Yet, he’s so utterly transfixed and moved by his nemesis’ work. Whenever Mozart previews a new piece we see Salieri overcome with emotion; he has to fight to downplay his feelings. In fact, he’s so touched that Mozart would even consider his opinion. Salieri values his approval.
Mozart craves Salieri’s approval too. Despite the fact that he openly and publicly makes fun of Salieri and dismisses him as a composer, he repeatedly seeks him out for approval. Mozart lights up when Salieri approves of his work.
Their dynamic blossoms into a strange co-dependency where their passion for music deteriorates into something unhealthy and all-consuming. They can’t enjoy their success anymore. Their craft has solely become about external validation from each other and on a larger scale. Salieri struggles with not being recognized to the extent of Mozart; Mozart’s widespread recognition is whittling away at his mental state and his ability to create. Yet, each thinks the other is living at the apex of luxury.
Amadeus asks its audience complicated, sometimes uncomfortable questions about art and expression. Does art mean anything if there’s no one to validate it? If we only create art for outward validation, will we ever have artistic integrity or feel fulfilled? Is an artistic legacy worth our humanity?
We watch Salieri mourn that he won’t have a brilliant, beautiful legacy. But, in pursuit of this legacy, he loses touch with what drew him to music in the first place. Mozart cements his own legacy quickly but struggles to create anything stimulating the larger his legacy becomes. Ultimately, there becomes a public disconnect between Mozart the Person and Mozart the Identity; there’s little regard for his personhood and dignity and his value is solely connected to making art and making a lot of it. When Mozart passes away, his body is dumped in an unmarked mass grave. There’s zero frill, there’s no care. He can no longer feed the masses.
Interestingly, revisiting this movie made me think a lot about Chappell Roan. The rising star recently made major headlines with several posts begging fans to respect her boundaries and recognize her personhood. She wrote in one post, “I feel more love than I ever have in my life. I feel the most unsafe I have ever felt in my life.”
She’s secured widespread validation and acclaim for her art after years of working hard. But in creating this legacy for herself, the public discarded her humanity and now they treat her as an object only for their consumption. Yet, if her art hadn’t blown up, audiences who needed her music may not have found it. It’s possible that she would not have continued making music at all. We’ve seen this happen time and time again with artists like Britney Spears, Whitney Houston, etc. Their art was commodified and prioritized at the expense of their personhood with disastrous and tragic results. Chappell, fortunately, is in a position to establish these boundaries before things go down a similar path. Mozart in the film pushes past a point of no return and, when people do mourn him, they mourn the lack of any new work from him.
From another angle, modern audiences are inundated with endless outlets and avenues to express themselves. However, time and time again those avenues become less about connecting and expression and more about likes, engagement, and commodification. They go from being authentic expressions to curated samplings of life. The joy and purity get sucked right out of the experience and soon, what was once simple and fun, becomes a chore that drives your self-worth or lines your pockets.
With the film’s initial release in 1984, the performative self was more emulative. The 80’s saw the rise of MTV which made music more accessible and commodified than ever before. Artists suddenly became more than musicians as music videos boomed. They were fashion icons, they were actors, and they became pop culture figures. With this newfound access, audiences were able to pull influences into their own life and individualize their tastes and styles in what could be deemed performative. However, there was still a barrier between the audience and the artist.
Nowadays, audiences can become the product and are able to solidify their own avenue and legacy. Amadeus rang true then because audiences could have more immediate access and insight into the artistry and legacy. Now, audiences are cementing their own legacies and artistry, as opposed to the 80s when the film was originally released when “performative self” was limited. They can make themselves the product.
Director Miloš Forman so beautifully builds an overwhelming scale of behemoth proportions and makes you feel the weight of these two men’s dilemmas. He sweeps the audience up in the existential crisis only to take the film to a screeching halt. As Mozart’s signature laugh rings out over the film one final time, Forman forces the audience to realize that maybe legacy isn’t important when you’re not enjoying the life unfolding around you. Perhaps, when you’re so focused on your shortcomings and how you stack up against others, you forget to enjoy creating in the first place.
At a glance, it’d be easy to write off Amadeus as another historical period piece that the Oscars just gobbled up or “that random three-hour movie you had to watch for a history or music class.” But when you dive deep, it ironically cements a legacy for itself as an enduring and necessary work for modern audiences.
Retrospective Courtesy of Adam Patla
Image Credit to Orion Pictures via Film Forum