Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *
Cast: Paul Bettany, Will Sharpe, Gabreille Creevy, Olivia-Mai Barrett, Orsolya Heletya, Emma Lowndes, Jonathan Aris, Rory Kinnear, Kristián Cser, Anastasia Martin, Lucy Cohu, Viola Preetejohn, Rupert Vansittart, Colin Hoult, Paul Bazely, Jack Farthing, Enyi Okoronkwo, Hugh Sachs.
In its attempt to appeal to all, television has found a way to sanitise even the most glorious of human beings that have created such works of art that their very presence gives us hope, that we explain away the madness in the mind and in the soul, and for the most part it has found a way to dissect and criticise, find a way to not exemplify the brilliance, but desecrate the self, find fault at every possible moment.
This act of what can only be described as personal sabotage is rampant, and whilst we must be assured of balance, of presenting history in an defence of frustrating cleansing, there is a case to uplift the genius even more, to direct the lens of the virtue and its failings, to exorcise the devil but acknowledge its whispering into the ears of anyone creating a vision of humanity.
One of the greatest examples of such magnificence and the brutality of jealousy is to be found in the intensely cool Peter Schaffer play Amadeus, and the visionary adaption for film that starred the legendary F. Murray Abraham as Antonio Salieri and the articulately gifted Tom Hulse as Mozart; and yet to capture such a tumultuous relationship, to present envy in the same destructive manner on television is to walk a tight rope of insecurities and resentments whilst offering as much as possible a fairness to that which many are convinced is the villain who took the gift of musical possession and turned into something bathed in guilt, anger, and the confidence of those who seek to be remembered for little reason.
Joe Barton’s vision of the play is one of expansion, of piercing details, of pulling back on the childlike foundations that Tom Hulse successfully exhibited in his portrayal of the Maestro, and instead showed a forgotten element to humanity when placed under the pressure of being in the spotlight and understanding that in the end a life is not meant to be remembered, but the works that come from the mind are. Art, the labour, the vocation, is what matters, not the life.
Detailed, perhaps over slightly presented, and the core of the relationship not given the fierceness that was yearned to be explored is not clearly defined beyond the dichotomy of Paul Bettany’s loss of faith and his ire to the upstart in his midst, the young protégé who in this version is not shown as a rejoiceful madman, but instead an intense thinker who typifies the need to celebrate the human within and not give credence to a God for the gift in the heart.
Full of colour, and explosion of musical excellence, a reminder of toxicity that exists within the artistic fraternity, but just not quite finding the point of true damage to those that chase self-proclaimed glory, Amadeus is a worthy watch but knowing full well it doesn’t quite catch the eye compared to the 1984 film directed by Miloš Forman.
Ian D. Hall