Amadeus Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Amadeus script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart movie starring Tom Hulce.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Amadeus. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts!

Amadeus Script


 

                   

Mozart!



 

                   

Forgive your assassin!



 

                   

I confess, I killed you!



 

                   

Si, I killed you, Mozart.



 

                   

Mozart, pietŗ!

Forgive your assassin!



 

                   

Forgive me, Mozart!



 

                   

Signore Salieri,

open the door, be good now!



 

                   

Signore, we have

something special for you.



 

                   

Something you' re going to love.



  

                   

Is that good !



  

                   

Signore, beIieve me. . .



  

                   

. . .this is the most delicious thing

I ever ate in my life!



  

                   

Really, you don't know

what you' re miss--



  

                   

All right, that's enough!

Open the door.



  

                   

Signore, if you don't

open this door. . .



  

                   

. . .we' re gonna leave nothing

for you.



  

                   

And I' m never gonna come

see you again!



  

                   

Good morning, Father.



  

                   

Herr Salieri?



  

                   

Leave me alone.



  

                   

I cannot leave alone a soul in pain.



  

                   

Do you know who I am?



  

                   

That makes no difference.



  

                   

All men are equal in God's eyes.



  

                   

Are they?



  

                   

Offer me your confession.



  

                   

I can offer you God's forgiveness.



  

                   

How well are you trained in music?



  

                   

I know a little.

I studied it in my youth.



  

                   

-Where?

-Here in Vienna.



  

                   

Then you must know this.



  

                   

I can't say that I do.



  

                   

What is it?



  

                   

It was a very popular tune in its day.



  

                   

I wrote it.



  

                   

Here, how about this?



  

                   

This one brought down the house

when we played it.



  

                   

Well?



  

                   

I regret it is not too familiar.



  

                   

Can you recall no melody of mine?



  

                   

I was the most famous composer

in Europe.



  

                   

I wrote    operas alone.



  

                   

Here!



  

                   

What about this one?



  

                   

Yes, I know that!



  

                   

That's charming !



  

                   

I' m sorry, I didn't know

you wrote that.



  

                   

I didn't.



  

                   

That was Mozart.



  

                   

Wolfgang . . .



  

                   

. . .Amadeus Mozart.



  

                   

The man you accuse yourself

of killing .



  

                   

You've heard that?



  

                   

Is it true?



  

                   

For God's sake, my son. . .



  

                   

. . .if you have something to confess,

do it now.



  

                   

Give yourself some peace.



  

                   

He. . .



  

                   

. . .was my idol .



  

                   

Mozart.



  

                   

l can 't think of a time

when l didn 't know his name.



  

                   

l was playing games. . .



  

                   

. . . when he was playing music

for kings and emperors.



  

                   

Even the pope in Rome.



  

                   

l admit, l was jealous. . .



  

                   

. . . when l heard the tales

they told about him.



  

                   

Not of the brilliant little prodigy. . .



  

                   

. . .but of hisfather,

who had taught him everything.



  

                   

My father, he did not care for music.



  

                   

When I told him. . .



  

                   

. . . how I wished I could be

like Mozart. . .



  

                   

. . .he would say, ''Why? Do you want

to be a trained monkey?



  

                   

You 'd like me to drag you around,

doing tricks like a circus freak?''



  

                   

How could I tell him. . .



  

                   

. . .what music meant to me?



  

                   

While my father

prayed earnestly to God. . .



  

                   

. . . to protect commerce. . .



  

                   

. . .l would offer up. . .



  

                   

. . .secretly. . .



  

                   

. . . the proudest prayer

a boy couldthink of.



  

                   

''Lord, make me a great composer.



  

                   

Let me celebrate your glory

through music. . .



  

                   

. . .and be celebrated myself.



  

                   

Make me famous through the world.



  

                   

Make me immortal.



  

                   

After l die. . .



  

                   

. . .let people speak my name

with love for what I wrote.



  

                   

In return. . .



  

                   

. . . I will give you my chastity. . .



  

                   

. . . my industry. . .



  

                   

. . . my deepest humility,

every hour of my life.



  

                   

Amen. ''



  

                   

And do you know what happened?



  

                   

A miracle!



  

                   

My life changed forever.



  

                   

I knew God had arranged it all .

That was obvious.



  

                   

One minute I was a frustrated boy. . .



  

                   

. . .in an obscure little town.

The next I was here. . .



  

                   

. . .in Vienna, city of musicians. . .



   

                   

. . .and Emperor Joseph,

the musical king.



   

                   

ln a few years, l was his court

composer. lsn 't that incredible?



   

                   

Every night l sat with

the emperor of Austria. . .



   

                   

. . .playing duets with him. . .



   

                   

. . . correcting the royal sight-reading.



   

                   

Actually, the man had no ear at all .



   

                   

But what did it matter?



   

                   

He adored my music.



   

                   

Tell me. . . .



   

                   

If you had been me. . .



   

                   

. . .wouldn't you have thought

God had accepted your vow?



   

                   

And believe me, I honored it.



   

                   

I was a model of virtue.



   

                   

I kept my hands off women.



   

                   

I worked hours every day

teaching students, many for free!



   

                   

Sitting on endless committees

to help poor musicians.



   

                   

Work, that was all my life.



   

                   

And it was wonderful .



   

                   

Everybody liked me.



   

                   

I liked myself.



   

                   

Until he came.



   

                   

He came to Vienna to play

some of his music. . .



   

                   

. . .at the residence

of the Prince Archbishop of Salzburg .



   

                   

Eagerly, l went there to seek him out.



   

                   

That night. . .



   

                   

. . . changed my life.



   

                   

As l wandered through the salon. . .



   

                   

. . .l played a little game with myself.



   

                   

This man had written

hisfiirst concerto at the age of  . . .



   

                   

. . .hisfiirst symphony at  

a full-scale opera at   !



   

                   

Did it show?



   

                   

lstalent like that. . .



   

                   

. . . written on the face?



   

                   

Which one of them. . .



   

                   

. . . could he be?



   

                   

Mozart is not here.



   

                   

-Stop it!

-I am.



   

                   

-Stop it!

-I am stopping it.



   

                   

I am! I' m stopping it. Slowly.



   

                   

There. You see? I've stopped .



   

                   

-Now we' re going back.

-No!



   

                   

Yes! You don't know where you are.



   

                   

Here, everything goes backwards.



   

                   

People walk and dance and sing

and even talk backwards.



   

                   

-That's stupid .

-Why? People fart backwards.



   

                   

Ssa-ym-ssik!



   

                   

Ssa-ym-ssik!



   

                   

Yes, you are. You are very sick.



   

                   

No! Say it backwards, shitwit!



   

                   

Ssa-ym-ssik.



   

                   

Ssik, kiss.



   

                   

Ym, my. Ssa.



   

                   

Kiss my ass.



   

                   

Em-yrram!



   

                   

-I' m not playing !

-Say it, it's serious.



   

                   

It's very serious.



   

                   

Yrram.



   

                   

Marry me.



   

                   

I' m not gonna marry you.

You' re a fiend .



   

                   

Uoy-evol-I-tub.



   

                   

Tub.



   

                   

But I . . .



   

                   

. . .love. . . .



   

                   

But I love you?



   

                   

-Tihs-ym-tae.

-What?



   

                   

-Eat.

-Eat.



   

                   

-Ym, my.

-My.



   

                   

Tihs. Eat my shit.



   

                   

You filthy fiend !



   

                   

You filthy--!



   

                   

My music.



   

                   

They've started without me.



   

                   

That was Mozart!



   

                   

That giggling, dirty creature

I'd just seen crawling on the floor.



   

                   

-I think that went well, don't you?

-Indeed .



   

                   

The Viennese know good music,

don't you think?



   

                   

Certainly.



   

                   

Your Grace.



   

                   

Ah, Mozart.



   

                   

-Why?

-Why what, sir?



   

                   

Why do I have to be humiliated

in front of my guests. . .



   

                   

. . . by one of my own servants?



   

                   

The more license I allow you,

the more you take.



   

                   

If His Grace is not satisfied,

he can dismiss me.



   

                   

I wish you to return immediately

to Salzburg .



   

                   

-Your father is waiting for you there.

-No, Your Grace!



   

                   

I would prefer you dismissed me.

It's obvious I don't satisfy.



   

                   

I have no intention of dismissing you.

You will remain in my service. . .



   

                   

. . .and learn your place.



   

                   

On the page it looked. . . .



   

                   

Nothing!



   

                   

The beginning simple, almost comic.



   

                   

Just a pulse.



   

                   

Bassoons, basset horns. . .



   

                   

. . .like a rusty squeezebox.



   

                   

And then, suddenly. . .



   

                   

. . . high above it. . .



   

                   

. . .an oboe.



   

                   

A single note, hanging there,

unwavering .



   

                   

Until . . .



   

                   

. . .a clarinet took it over. . .



   

                   

. . .sweetened it into a phrase

of such delight.



   

                   

This was no composition

by a performing monkey.



   

                   

This was a music I had never heard .



   

                   

Filled with such longing,

such unfulfillable longing .



   

                   

lt seemed to me l was hearing

the voice of God.



   

                   

Excuse me.



   

                   

But why?



   

                   

Why would God choose an obscene child

to be hisinstrument?



   

                   

It was not to be believed .



   

                   

This piece had to be an accident.

It had to be.



   

                   

It better be.



   

                   

How good is he, this Mozart?



   

                   

He's remarkable, Majesty. I heard an

extraordinary opera of his last month.



   

                   

-ldomeneo, King of Crete.

-That?



   

                   

A tiresome piece. I heard it too.



   

                   

Tiresome?



   

                   

A young man trying to impress

beyond his abilities.



   

                   

Too much spice.



   

                   

Too many notes.



   

                   

Majesty. . .



   

                   

. . .it was the most promising work

I've heard in years.



   

                   

Then, we should make

some effort to acquire him.



   

                   

We could use a good German composer

in Vienna, surely?



   

                   

I' m sure he could be tempted

with the right offer. Say. . .



   

                   

. . .an opera in German

for our National Theater.



   

                   

Excellent, sire!



   

                   

But not German. I beg, Your Majesty.



   

                   

Italian is the proper language

for opera.



   

                   

All educated people agree on that.



   

                   

What do you think, chamberlain?



   

                   

In my opinion, it's time

we had a piece in our own language.



   

                   

Plain German for plain people.



   

                   

Kapellmeister?



   

                   

Majesty. . .



   

                   

. . . I must agree with Herr Direttore.



   

                   

German is. . .



   

                   

. . .too brute for singing .



   

                   

Court composer. . .



   

                   

. . .what do you think?



   

                   

I think it's an interesting notion

to keep Mozart in Vienna.



   

                   

It should infuriate the archbishop. . .



   

                   

. . .if that is Your Majesty's

intention.



   

                   

You are cattivo, court composer.



   

                   

I want to meet this young man.

Arrange a pleasant welcome for him.



   

                   

Well, there it is!



   

                   

This is a beautiful wig for you.



   

                   

It looks so marvelous and I love it.



   

                   

The other one.



   

                   

Here is the other one.

I think you will love it.



   

                   

Here's the third one. So? Here we go.



   

                   

-How do you like it?

-They' re all so beautiful !



   

                   

Why don't I have three heads?



   

                   

This is funny!



   

                   

Three heads!



   

                   

Gentlemen.



   

                   

-Good morning .

-Morning, Your Majesty.



   

                   

What do you have for me today?



   

                   

-Your Majesty, Herr Mozart.

-Yes, what about him?



   

                   

He's here.



   

                   

Well, there it is. Good !



   

                   

I hope you won't find it improper,

but I've written a march in his honor.



   

                   

What a charming idea, court composer.

May I see?



   

                   

Just a. . . .



   

                   

Just a trifle, of course.



   

                   

May I try it?



   

                   

Let's have some fun.



   

                   

Delightful, court composer!



   

                   

May I play it when he comes in?



   

                   

-You do me too much honor.

-Bring in Herr Mozart.



   

                   

But slowly.



   

                   

I need a minute to practice.



   

                   

Good, continue.



   

                   

G, Majesty.



   

                   

Excellent!



   

                   

Good, Majesty.



   

                   

Continue. Very good .



   

                   

Very good, Majesty.



   

                   

Tempo! Up.



   

                   

Lightly, then strongly!

It's a march, Majesty.



   

                   

Again.



   

                   

Bravo, Majesty!



   

                   

Gentlemen, please.

A little less enthusiasm, I beg you.



   

                   

No, please. It's not a holy relic.



   

                   

You know, we have met before.

In this very room.



   

                   

You don't recall . You were only  .

He was giving a delightful concert!



   

                   

As he got off the stool, he fell .



   

                   

My sister Antoinette helped him up.

Know what he did?



   

                   

He jumped into her arms and said,

""Will you marry me? Yes or no?""



   

                   

You know all these gentlemen.

The Baron Van Swieten.



   

                   

-I' m a great admirer of yours.

-Thank you.



   

                   

Kapellmeister Bonno.



   

                   

My pleasure.



   

                   

The Director of Opera,

Count Orsini-Rosenberg .



   

                   

Sir, yes. The honor is mine,

absolutely!



   

                   

Here is our

illustrious court composer. . .



   

                   

. . . Maestro Salieri .



   

                   

At last, such immense joy!



   

                   

I know your work well .



   

                   

You know, I composed some variations

on a melody of yours.



   

                   

-Really? Which one?

- ''Mio Caro Adone. ''



   

                   

I' m flattered .



   

                   

A funny tune,

but it yielded good things.



   

                   

And now he has returned

the compliment.



   

                   

Herr Salieri composed

this little march for you.



   

                   

Really?



   

                   

Well, there it is.



   

                   

Down to business. We' re going

to commission an opera from you.



   

                   

What do you say?



   

                   

Did we vote in the end

for German or Italian?



   

                   

Sire, if you remember,

we did finally incline to Italian.



   

                   

Did we?



   

                   

I don't think it was really decided,

Your Majesty.



   

                   

-German. Please let it be German.

-Why so?



   

                   

Because I've already found

the most wonderful libretto.



   

                   

Have I seen it?



   

                   

I don't think you have, Herr Direktor.

It's quite new.



   

                   

-I'll show it to you immediately.

-I think you'd better.



   

                   

Well . . .



   

                   

. . .tell us about it.

Tell us the story.



   

                   

Well, it's quite amusing, Majesty.



   

                   

It's set--

The whole thing is set in a. . . .



   

                   

Yes? Where?



   

                   

In a harem, Majesty. In a seraglio.



   

                   

-You mean in Turkey?

-Yes, exactly.



   

                   

Then why especially

does it have to be in German?



   

                   

It doesn't, especially. It could be

in Turkish if you really want.



   

                   

No, my dear fellow, the language

is not finally the point.



   

                   

Do you really think that subject

is appropriate for a national theater?



   

                   

Why not? It's charming .



   

                   

I mean, I won't actually show

concubines exposing their. . . .



   

                   

It's not indecent.

It's highly moral, Majesty.



   

                   

It's full of proper German virtues.



   

                   

Excuse me, Majesty, but what

do you think these could be?



   

                   

Being a foreigner, I'd love to learn.



   

                   

Well, telI him, Mozart.



   

                   

Name us a German virtue.



   

                   

-Love, sire.

-Oh, love!



   

                   

Of course, in Italy

we know nothing about love.



   

                   

No, I don't think you do.



   

                   

Watching Italian opera,

all those male sopranos screeching . . .



   

                   

. . .stupid, fat couples rolling their eyes

about. That's not love. It's rubbish!



   

                   

Majesty, you choose the language.



   

                   

I'll set it to the finest music

ever offered a monarch.



   

                   

Well, there it is.

Let it be German.



   

                   

This is yours.



   

                   

Keep it.

It's already here in my head .



   

                   

What? On one hearing only?



   

                   

I think so, sire. Yes.



   

                   

Show us.



   

                   

The rest is just the same, isn't it?



   

                   

That doesn't really work, does it?



   

                   

Did you try. . . ?



   

                   

Shouldn't it be a bit more. . . ?



   

                   

Or this?



   

                   

This. Yes.



   

                   

Better? What do you think?



   

                   

Grazie, Signore.



   

                   

All l ever wanted

was to sing to God.



   

                   

He gave me that longing . . .



   

                   

. . .and then made me mute. Why?



   

                   

Tell me that.



   

                   

If he didn't want me

to praise him with music. . .



   

                   

. . .why implant the desire. . .



   

                   

. . .like a lust in my body?



   

                   

And then deny me the talent?



   

                   

Madame Cavalieri is here

for her lesson, sir.



   

                   

Maestro.



   

                   

Well . . . ?



   

                   

How do you like it?



   

                   

It's Turkish.



   

                   

My hairdresser said everything

this year's going to be Turkish.



   

                   

Does he?



   

                   

What else did he tell you today?



   

                   

Come, come! Give me some gossip.



   

                   

Well, I heard you met Herr Mozart.



   

                   

News travels fast in Vienna.



   

                   

And he's been commissioned

to write an opera. Is it true?



   

                   

-Yes.

-Is there a part in it for me?



   

                   

-No.

-How do you know?



   

                   

-Do you know where it's set, my dear?

-Where?



   

                   

In a harem.



   

                   

-What's that?

-A brotheI .



   

                   

Come.



   

                   

Let's begin.



   

                   

-What does he look like?

-Mozart?



   

                   

-You might be disappointed .

-Why?



   

                   

Looks and talent don't always

go together, Katerina.



   

                   

Looks don't concern me, maestro.



   

                   

Only talent interests

a woman of taste.



   

                   

Shall we continue?



   

                   

There she was.



   

                   

l don 't know where they met or how.

There she stood!



   

                   

On stage, for all to see.



   

                   

Showing offlike

the greedy songbird she was.



   

                   

Ten minutes of ghastly scales.

Arpeggios!



   

                   

Whizzing up and down

like fiireworks at a fairground.



   

                   

Understand, I was

in love with the girl .



   

                   

Or at least in lust.



   

                   

And I swear to you,

I never laid a finger on her.



   

                   

All the same, I couldn't bear

to think of anyone else touching her.



   

                   

Least of all, ""the creature. ""



   

                   

Brava, madame!

You are an ornament to our stage.



   

                   

Your Majesty.



   

                   

Well, Herr Mozart. A good effort.



   

                   

Well, decidedly that.



   

                   

An excellent effort!

You have shown us something . . .



   

                   

-. . . quite new tonight.

-It is new.



   

                   

-It is, isn't it, sire?

-Yes, indeed .



   

                   

So then, you liked it?

You really liked it, sire?



   

                   

Well, of course I did ! It's very good !



   

                   

Of course, now and then,

just now and then. . .



   

                   

. . .it seemed a touch. . . .



   

                   

What do you mean, sire?



   

                   

Well, I mean, occasionally,

it seems to have. . . .



   

                   

How shall one say. . . ?



   

                   

How shall one say, direktor?



   

                   

-Too many notes, Majesty?

-Exactly. Very well put.



   

                   

-Too many notes.

-l don't understand .



   

                   

There are just as many notes

as I required, neither more nor less.



   

                   

My dear fellow, there are in fact. . .



   

                   

. . .only so many notes

the ear can hear in an evening .



   

                   

I think I' m right in saying that,

aren't I, court composer?



   

                   

Yes. On the whole, yes, Majesty.



   

                   

This is absurd !



   

                   

Young man, don't take it too hard .

Your work is ingenious.



   

                   

It's quality work.



   

                   

And there are simply too many notes.

Just cut a few and it'll be perfect.



   

                   

Which few did you have in mind?



   

                   

Wolfgang !



   

                   

Wolfgang, my dear!



   

                   

-Wolfgang !

-Majesty, this is Frau Weber.



   

                   

She's my landlady.



   

                   

-Enchanted, madame.

-Sire, such an honor!



   

                   

This is my dear daughter, Constanze.



   

                   

-She's the fiancťe of Herr Mozart.

-Really?



   

                   

How charming . Please.



   

                   

Well . . .



   

                   

. . .when do you marry?



   

                   

We haven't exactly received

my father's consent yet.



   

                   

Not entirely. Not altogether.



   

                   

-Excuse me, but how old are you?

-  .



   

                   

My advice is for you to marry

this charming young lady. . .



   

                   

-. . .and stay with us in Vienna.

-You see?



   

                   

I told him that,

but he won't listen to me.



   

                   

Your Majesty,

you give such wonderful . . .



   

                   

. . .such royal advice. May I . . . ?



   

                   

Well, there it is.



   

                   

Wolfie, will you get some water?



   

                   

Will you get some water, please?



   

                   

Wolfie, get some water!



   

                   

Excuse me. Excuse me.



   

                   

Did you know?



   

                   

-What?

-The marriage.



   

                   

What does it matter to you?



   

                   

Nothing . He can marry who he pleases,

I don't give a damn.



   

                   

How was I?



   

                   

You were sublime.



   

                   

And what did you think of the music?



   

                   

Extremely clever.



   

                   

Katerina, I--



   

                   

Excuse me.



   

                   

Is that woman still lying

on the floor?



   

                   

-No, she's fine.

-Oh, I' m so relieved .



   

                   

Dear Mozart,

my sincere congratulations.



   

                   

-Did you like it then?

-How could I not?



   

                   

It's the best music

in Vienna today, don't you agree?



   

                   

She must be dazzling in bed .



   

                   

I assume she's the virtuoso

in that department.



   

                   

No other reason why

you'd marry someone like that.



   

                   

Come in.



   

                   

Excuse me.

Wolfie, Mom isn't feeling very well .



   

                   

-Can we go home?

-Yes.



   

                   

No, no, no.

You can't take him away now.



   

                   

This is his night.



   

                   

Won't you introduce us, Wolfgang?



   

                   

Excuse us, Fršulein.

Good night, signore.



   

                   

At that moment l knew,

beyond any doubt. . .



   

                   

. . .he 'd had her.



   

                   

The creature had had my darling girl .



   

                   

It was incomprehensible!



   

                   

What was God up to?



   

                   

Was it possible I was being tested?



   

                   

Was God expecting me

to offer forgiveness. . .



   

                   

. . .in the face of every offense?



   

                   

No matter how painful?



   

                   

It's very possible.



   

                   

But why him?



   

                   

Why choose Mozart

to teach me lessons in humility?



   

                   

My heart was filling up. . .



   

                   

. . .with such hatred

for that little man.



   

                   

For the first time in my life,

I began to know. . .



   

                   

. . . really. . .



   

                   

. . .violent thoughts.



   

                   

Every day, sometimes for hours,

l would pray.



   

                   

Lord . . .



   

                   

. . . please. . .



   

                   

. . .send him away. . .



   

                   

. . . back to Salzburg .



   

                   

For his sake. . .



   

                   

. . .as well as mine.



   

                   

-No! I won't have him back.

-But, Your Grace--



   

                   

Your son is an unprincipled,

spoiled, conceited brat!



   

                   

Yes, sir. . .



   

                   

. . .that is the truth.



   

                   

But don't blame him.

The fault is mine, entirely.



   

                   

I was too indulgent with him.



   

                   

Please, Your Grace?



   

                   

Give him one more chance?



   

                   

You have leave to try.



   

                   

God bless, Your Grace!

I thank Your Grace.



   

                   

I thank you!



   

                   

l write to you with urgent news.

l'm coming to Vienna.



   

                   

Take no further steps

towards marriage until we meet.



   

                   

As you honor the father who has

devoted hislife to yours. . .



   

                   

. . . do as l bid, and await my coming.



   

                   

I now join you

in the holy bonds of matrimony.



   

                   

Those whom God hath joined together. . .



   

                   

. . .let no man put asunder.



   

                   

Beloved father:



   

                   

You say Vienna isthe musicians ' city.

To conquer here is to conquer Europe.



   

                   

With my wife l can do it.

One day, when l'm wealthy. . .



   

                   

. . . you 'lllive with us,

and we 'll be so happy.



   

                   

Good morning .

This is my niece, Princess Elizabeth.



   

                   

Your Highness.



   

                   

She's asked me to recommend

a music instructor.



   

                   

-I've come up with an excellent idea.

-Your Majesty!



   

                   

It would be such a tremendous honor!



   

                   

I was thinking of Herr Mozart.

What is your view?



   

                   

It's an interesting idea,

Majesty, but. . . .



   

                   

Yes?



   

                   

My concern is to protect you. . .



   

                   

. . .from any hint of favoritism.



   

                   

Favoritism.



   

                   

-What is this?

-What is what?



   

                   

Why must I submit samples of my work

to a committee to teach a girl?



   

                   

Because His Majesty wishes it.



   

                   

Is the emperor angry with me?



   

                   

-Quite the contrary.

-Then why not appoint me to the post?



   

                   

You are not

the only composer in Vienna.



   

                   

No. But I' m the best.



   

                   

Mozart.



   

                   

A little modesty

might suit you better.



   

                   

Who is on this committee?



   

                   

Kapellmeister Bonno, Count

Orsini-Rosenberg and Salieri .



   

                   

Naturally, the Italians!

Of course, always the Italians!



   

                   

They' re all musical idiots!



   

                   

-And you want them to judge my music?

-Young man. . .



   

                   

. . .the issue is quite simple.

If you want this position. . .



   

                   

. . .you must submit your stuff,

along with all your colleagues.



   

                   

Must I?



   

                   

Well, I won't.



   

                   

How are we supposed to live?



   

                   

Do you want me to beg on the streets?



   

                   

Don't be stupid .



   

                   

-All they want to see is your work.

-Shit.



   

                   

-What's wrong with that?

-Shut up! Just shut up.



   

                   

One royal pupil,

and all of Vienna will come flocking .



   

                   

They'll come anyway.



   

                   

-No, they won't.

-They love me here.



   

                   

-I know how things work in this city.

-You know everything, don't you?



   

                   

-Yes?

-Excuse me, sir.



   

                   

-A lady insists on talking to you.

-Who?



   

                   

She didn't say,

but she says it's urgent.



   

                   

Excuse me, my dear.



   

                   

Your Excellency.



   

                   

How can I help you?



   

                   

-Frau Mozart?

-l've come on behalf of my husband .



   

                   

I brought samples of his work so he

can be considered for the appointment.



   

                   

How charming,

but why did he not come himself?



   

                   

Well, he's terribly busy, sir.



   

                   

I understand .



   

                   

I will look at them the moment I can.



   

                   

It will be an honor.

Please give him my warmest regards.



   

                   

Would it be too much trouble

to ask you to look at them now?



   

                   

-While I wait.

-I' m afraid I' m not at leisure. . .



   

                   

. . .this precise moment.



   

                   

Leave them with me.

I assure you, they will be safe.



   

                   

I really cannot do that, sir.



   

                   

You see, he doesn't know I' m here.



   

                   

Then he didn't send you?



   

                   

No, sir. This was my own idea.



   

                   

-I see.

-Sir, we' re desperate.



   

                   

We really need this job.



   

                   

My husband spends far more

than he can ever earn.



   

                   

I don't mean that he's lazy,

because he works all day long .



   

                   

It's just that he's not practical .



   

                   

Money simply slips through

his fingers. It's ridiculous.



   

                   

Let me offer you some refreshment.



   

                   

Do you know what these are?



   

                   

CapezzolidiVenere!

Nipples of Venus.



   

                   

They' re Roman chestnuts in brandied

sugar. Try one. Go on, try one!



   

                   

They' re quite surprising .



   

                   

They' re wonderful !



   

                   

Thank you very much, Your Excellency.



   

                   

Don't keep calling me that.



   

                   

Keeps me at such a distance.



   

                   

I wasn't born a court composer,

you know.



   

                   

I' m from a small town.



   

                   

Just like your husband .



   

                   

Are you sure you can't. . .



   

                   

. . .leave this and come back again?



   

                   

It's very tempting, sir.



   

                   

But it's impossible, I' m afraid .



   

                   

He'd be frantic

if he knew they were missing .



   

                   

You see, they' re all originals.



   

                   

-Originals?

-Yes, sir. He doesn't make copies.



   

                   

These. . .



   

                   

. . .are originals?



   

                   

Astounding!



   

                   

It was actually--

It was beyond belief.



   

                   

These were first and only. . .



   

                   

. . . drafts of music.



   

                   

But they showed no corrections

of any kind. Not one.



   

                   

He had simply written down music. . .



   

                   

. . .already finished in his head .



   

                   

Page after page of it.

As if he were just taking dictation.



   

                   

And music. . .



   

                   

. . .finished as no music

is ever finished .



   

                   

Displace one note. . .



   

                   

. . .and there would be diminishment.



   

                   

Displace one phrase,

and the structure would fall .



   

                   

lt was clear to me. . .



   

                   

. . . that sound l had heard

inthe archbishop 's palace. . .



   

                   

. . .had been no accident.



   

                   

Here again

was the very voice of God.



   

                   

I was staring through the cage. . .



   

                   

. . .of those meticulous ink strokes. . .



   

                   

. . .at an absolute beauty.



   

                   

Is it not good?



   

                   

It is miraculous.



   

                   

Yes, he's very proud of his work.



   

                   

So you will help us?



   

                   

I dine with the emperor

tomorrow evening .



   

                   

One word from me and the post is his.



   

                   

Thank you, Your Excellency!

Thank you!



   

                   

Come back tonight.



   

                   

-Tonight?

-Alone.



   

                   

What for?



   

                   

Some service

deserves service in return.



   

                   

No?



   

                   

-What do you mean?

-Isn't it obvious?



   

                   

It's a post all Vienna seeks.



   

                   

If you wish it for your husband,

come tonight.



   

                   

I' m a married woman, sir.



   

                   

Then don't.



   

                   

It's up to you.



   

                   

And not to be vague,

that is the price.



   

                   

There is no God of mercy, Father.



   

                   

Just a God of torture.



   

                   

Evening came.



   

                   

l sat there, not knowing

whether she would return or not.



   

                   

l prayed as l had

never prayed before.



   

                   

Dear God. . .



   

                   

. . . enter me now.



   

                   

Fill me with one piece of true music.



   

                   

One piece with your breathin it,

so l know that you love me.



   

                   

Show me one sign of your favor,

and l will show mine to Mozart.



   

                   

l will get himthe royal position.



   

                   

Enter me.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

Please!



   

                   

Yes?



   

                   

That lady is back, sir.



   

                   

Show her in.



   

                   

Well?



   

                   

I' m here.



   

                   

My husband has gone to a concert.



   

                   

He didn't think I would enjoy it.



   

                   

Well, where shall we go?



   

                   

Should we stay here?



   

                   

Well . . . .



   

                   

Do you still want to look at these?



   

                   

Or don't we need to bother anymore?



   

                   

Suppose we don't, really.



   

                   

Show this woman out.



   

                   

Stanzi .



   

                   

Stanzi .



   

                   

What is it?



   

                   

What's the matter? Tell me.



   

                   

Tell me.



   

                   

I love you.



   

                   

I love you.



   

                   

From now on, we are enemies.



   

                   

You and l.



   

                   

Because you choose

for your instrument. . .



   

                   

. . .a boastful,lustful,

smutty, infantile boy. . .



   

                   

. . .and give me for reward only the

ability to recognize the incarnation.



   

                   

Because you are unjust. . .



   

                   

. . . unfair. . .



   

                   

. . . unkind. . .



   

                   

. . .l will block you.



   

                   

l swear it.



   

                   

l will hinder and harm

your creature on earth. . .



   

                   

. . .as far as l am able.



   

                   

I don't like to talk

against a fellow musician.



   

                   

Of course not.



   

                   

I have to tell you.



   

                   

Mozart is not entirely to be trusted

alone with young ladies.



   

                   

Really?



   

                   

One of my own pupils,

a very young singer. . .



   

                   

. . . Maria Theresa Paradis. . .



   

                   

. . .told me she was. . . .



   

                   

Well . . . .



   

                   

Well, what?



   

                   

Molested, Majesty.



   

                   

Twice, in the course of

the same lesson.



   

                   

There is a Herr Mozart

waiting for you in the salon.



   

                   

-Whom did they choose?

-Herr Zummer.



   

                   

Herr Zummer?



   

                   

But the man's a fool !

He's a total mediocrity.



   

                   

No, no. He has yet

to achieve mediocrity.



   

                   

I can't lose this post.

I simply can't.



   

                   

Excellency, please.



   

                   

Let's go to the palace.

You can talk to the emperor. . .



   

                   

. . .and tell him that Herr Zummer

is an awful choice.



   

                   

He could do musical harm

to the princess.



   

                   

Between us, no one in the world

could do musical harm to the princess.



   

                   

Look. . .



   

                   

. . . I must have pupils.



   

                   

Without pupils, I can't manage.



   

                   

You don't mean

you' re living in poverty?



   

                   

No, but l' m broke.



   

                   

Well, how is this possible?



   

                   

I hear your concerts are

quite successful .



   

                   

They' re stupendously successful .



   

                   

You can't get a seat.

But no one will hire me.



   

                   

They want to hear me play. . .



   

                   

. . . but they won't let me teach

their daughters, as if I was a fiend .



   

                   

Seriously. . .



   

                   

. . .is there any chance

you could manage a loan?



   

                   

Only for six months.

Eight, at the most.



   

                   

You expect your fortunes to change

in six or eight months?



   

                   

As a matter of fact, l do.



   

                   

I am working on something that will

explode like a bomb all over Europe.



   

                   

I'll be the richest man in Vienna.

I'll pay you back double. Anything .



   

                   

You name the terms.



   

                   

Well, how exciting .



   

                   

Tell me more.



   

                   

-It's a bit of a secret.

-Come, come. I' m interested .



   

                   

This is delicious. What is it?



   

                   

It's cream cheese mixed with sugar. . .



   

                   

. . .suffused with rum.

Crema Mascarpone Speciale.



   

                   

Italian.



   

                   

Forgive me. We all have

patriotic feelings of some kind .



   

                   

Two thou--



   

                   

Two hundred florins.

That's all I need .



   

                   

A hundred .



   

                   

Fifty.



   

                   

What exactly are you working on?



   

                   

Really, I can't say.



   

                   

I don't think you should become known

in Vienna as a debtor, Mozart.



   

                   

However. . .



   

                   

. . . I know a distinguished

gentleman I can recommend, and . . .



   

                   

. . . he has a daughter.



   

                   

Quiet! Quiet!



   

                   

Herr Mozart.



   

                   

Welcome. Pay no attention,

they' re impossible.



   

                   

I treat them just like

my own children.



   

                   

Which of them do you wish me to teach?



   

                   

That's funny.



   

                   

You' re a funny fellow.



   

                   

This is the instrument.

I hope it's to your satisfaction.



   

                   

Of course it'll be

to his satisfaction.



   

                   

Come, we' re going to listen

to some music. Come!



   

                   

Good boy.



   

                   

Now.



   

                   

Please play me something,

just to give me an idea.



   

                   

Anything will do.



   

                   

Just go ahead .



   

                   

Just as if we weren't here.



   

                   

Part of music, getting used

to an audience. Right, Herr Mozart?



   

                   

Perhaps it would be better

if we were left alone.



   

                   

We' re both a little shy.



   

                   

Play.



   

                   

-I said pIay!

-Michael, please.



   

                   

Perhaps if I play first,

it might encourage the Fršulein.



   

                   

Why don't you let me try?



   

                   

Stop it! Stop!

He always howls when he hears music.



   

                   

We've got to break him of that habit.



   

                   

We've got to break them

of their habit!



   

                   

Play. Please.



   

                   

Herr Mozart, play. Please, I beg you.



   

                   

That's it. That's it.



   

                   

Keep pIaying !



   

                   

Keep playing ! That's it!



   

                   

Mozart, that's wonderful !

Wonderful !



   

                   

Next time you wish me to instruct

another of your dogs, let me know.



   

                   

Goodbye, Fršulein. Goodbye, madam.

Goodbye, sir.



   

                   

Papa?



   

                   

Papa!



   

                   

Why are you here?



   

                   

Am I not welcome?



   

                   

Of course, welcome.

Papa, welcome! Welcome!



   

                   

You' re very thin.

Doesn't your wife feed you?



   

                   

Of course she feeds me.

She stuffs me like a goose all day!



   

                   

-Is she not here?

-No, she had to help her mother.



   

                   

She's like that.



   

                   

Her mother's a very

sweet woman, you'll--



   

                   

I didn't know you were home.



   

                   

Stanzi, this is my father.



   

                   

We'll wait. We'll wait.



   

                   

Why don't you get up now, my darling?



   

                   

She's very tired, poor creature.

You know me. I' m such a pig .



   

                   

It's not easy cleaning up after me.



   

                   

Don't you have a maid?



   

                   

Oh. No. We could if we wanted . . .



   

                   

. . . but Stanzi insists on doing

everything herself.



   

                   

How is your. . .



   

                   

. . .financial situation?



   

                   

Couldn't be better.



   

                   

That's not what I hear.



   

                   

What do you mean? It's wonderful .



   

                   

Really, it's marvelous!

People love me here.



   

                   

They say you have debts.



   

                   

Who?



   

                   

Who says that?



   

                   

That's a malicious lie!



   

                   

Do you have pupils?



   

                   

I don't want pupils!



   

                   

They get in the way.



   

                   

I have to have time for composition.



   

                   

Composition doesn't pay.

You know that.



   

                   

That one will .



   

                   

What's that?



   

                   

It's a secret.



   

                   

Secret?

You don't have secrets from me.



   

                   

No! Please! I don't want you to see it.

I don't want anyone to see it.



   

                   

You'll be so proud of me.



   

                   

It'll be the best thing l've

ever done. The best thing anyone--



   

                   

There she is!



   

                   

Look at her! Isn't she beautiful?

Now, Papa, confess it.



   

                   

-Could you want a prettier daughter?

-Stop it, Wolfie!



   

                   

I look dreadful .



   

                   

Are you. . .



   

                   

. . .expecting?



   

                   

-Yes, I am.

-Isn't it marvelous? We' re delighted .



   

                   

-May I offer you some tea?

-Who wants tea? Let's go out!



   

                   

This calls for a feast.

You don't want tea, do you?



   

                   

I know! Let's go dancing .

Papa loves parties, don't you?



   

                   

How can you be so boring? Tea!



   

                   

Come on, Papa. Hurry!



   

                   

Here we go. Good day.



   

                   

Now!



   

                   

I name the penalty!

I name the penalty!



   

                   

And the penalty is. . . .



   

                   

-Give her a good one!

-Show us your legs!



   

                   

Come on, come on!



   

                   

lt's just a game, Papa.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Herr Mozart, why don't you

name your son's penalty?!



   

                   

Yes, Papa. Name it.



   

                   

Name it. I'll do anything

you say. Anything .



   

                   

I want you to come back

to Salzburg with me.



   

                   

The penalty must be

performed in the room.



   

                   

I' m tired of this game.



   

                   

But my penalty!

I've got to have a penalty!



   

                   

I name a penalty!



   

                   

The penalty is. . .



   

                   

. . .you shall play our tune. . .



   

                   

. . .in the manner of

Johann Sebastian Bach!



   

                   

-Turn him over!

-Over?!



   

                   

Now you play it backwards!



   

                   

-Another one! Give me another one!

-Play it like Gluck!



   

                   

-Boring . Another!

-Handel !



   

                   

I don't like him! Another one!



   

                   

Play Salieri .



   

                   

Now that is a challenge!

That is a challenge.



   

                   

Please! Please!



   

                   

Go on. Mock me. Laugh!



   

                   

That was not Mozart laughing, Father.



   

                   

That was God .



   

                   

That was God laughing at me

through that obscene giggle.



   

                   

Go on, Signore. Laugh.



   

                   

Show my mediocrity for all to see.



   

                   

One day I will laugh at you.



   

                   

Before I leave this earth. . .



   

                   

. . . I will laugh at you.





 

                   

-Wolfie?

-What?



 

                   

There's a young girl here to see you.



 

                   

What does she want?



 

                   

She won't talk to me.

She says she has to speak to you.



 

                   

Damn.



 

                   

Yes?



 

                   

-Are you Herr Mozart?

-That's right.



 

                   

My name is Lorl, sir.

I' m a maidservant.



 

                   

I was asked to come here

and offer my services to you.



  

                   

They'll be paid for by an admirer

of yours who wishes to remain. . .



  

                   

. . .anonymous.



  

                   

Is this your idea, Papa?



  

                   

Mine?



  

                   

-Are you playing a trick on me?

-I've never seen this girl .



  

                   

-Is this some kind of joke?

-Not at all, sir.



  

                   

Young woman, this won't do.



  

                   

My son can't accept such an offer,

no matter how generous. . .



  

                   

-. . . unless he knows who's behind it.

-I can't tell you that, sir.



  

                   

-This is ridiculous!

-What is ridiculous?



  

                   

Wolfie has many admirers in Vienna.



  

                   

People send us gifts all the time.



  

                   

You cannot accept her

without references.



  

                   

Well, this is none of your business.



  

                   

-Whoever sent you is going to pay?

-That's right.



  

                   

Splendid ! Now we' re going

to let a stranger into our house.



  

                   

Who is we? Who is letting who--?



  

                   

-Could you please wait outside?

-Yes, ma'am.



  

                   

Look, old man!



  

                   

We spend a fortune on you,

and all you can do is criticize.



  

                   

-And now--

-Stanzi !



  

                   

No! It's right that he should hear!

I' m sick to death of it.



  

                   

We can't do anything

right for you, can we?



  

                   

You won't have to do anything

for me ever again.



  

                   

I' m leaving .



  

                   

-No, Papa.

-I won't stay and be a burden.



  

                   

No one calls you that.



  

                   

She does. She says I sleep all day.



  

                   

And so you do!



  

                   

The only time you come out is to eat.



  

                   

Well, what do you expect?



  

                   

Do you expect anyone to walk out

into a mess like this every day?



  

                   

-So now I' m a bad housekeeper!

-So you are. It's a pigsty.



  

                   

When can you start?



  

                   

-Right away, ma'am.

-Good .



  

                   

They' re out every night, sir.



  

                   

Thank you, sir.



  

                   

Do any pupils come to the house?



  

                   

Not that I've seen.



  

                   

Then how does he pay for all this?



  

                   

Does he work at all?



  

                   

Yes, sir. All day long . He never

leaves the house till evening .



  

                   

He just sits there,

writing and writing .



  

                   

Really?



  

                   

What is it he's writing?



  

                   

I wouldn't know that, sir.



  

                   

Of course not.



  

                   

You' re a good girl .



  

                   

You' re very kind to do this.



  

                   

The next time you' re sure they'll

be out of the house, let me know.



  

                   

Thank you, sir.



  

                   

l think l found out

about the money.



  

                   

Yes? What?



  

                   

He kept seven snuff boxes in here.



  

                   

l could swear they were all gold.



  

                   

And now look.



  

                   

There's only one left.



  

                   

Where does he work?



  

                   

l have just heard some news

that may be of interest to you.



  

                   

What?



  

                   

Mozart is writing a new opera.



  

                   

An ltalian opera.



  

                   

ltalian?



  

                   

That's not all.



  

                   

He has chosen for his subject, Figaro.



  

                   

The Marriage of Figaro.



  

                   

He is setting that play to music?



  

                   

Yes.



  

                   

What is this Marriage of Figaro?



  

                   

lt's a French play, Kappelmeister.



  

                   

lt has been banned by the emperor.



  

                   

You're absolutely sure?



  

                   

Gentlemen, sit down.



  

                   

Are you aware that l have declared

the French play of Figaro...



  

                   

...unsuitable for our theatre?



  

                   

Yes, sire.



  

                   

Yet we hear you're making

an opera from it.



  

                   

ls this true?



  

                   

Who told you?



  

                   

lt is not your place to ask questions.



  

                   

ls it true?



  

                   

Yes.



  

                   

l admit it is.



  

                   

Would you tell me why?



  

                   

Majesty, it is only a comedy.



  

                   

What you think...



  

                   

...is scarcely the point.



  

                   

lt's what His Majesty thinks

that counts.



  

                   

l am a tolerant man.



  

                   

l do not censor things lightly.



   

                   

When l do, l have good reason.



   

                   

Figaro...



   

                   

...is a bad play.



   

                   

lt stirs up hatred between classes.



   

                   

ln France it has caused

nothing but bitterness.



   

                   

My sister Antoinette writes me

that she is beginning...



   

                   

...to be frightened of her own people.



   

                   

Sire, l swear to you,

there's nothing like that in the piece.



   

                   

l took out everything

that could give offense.



   

                   

l hate politics.



   

                   

l'm afraid you're

rather innocent, my friend.



   

                   

ln these dangerous times...



   

                   

...l cannot afford to provoke

our nobles or our people...



   

                   

...simply over a theatre piece.



   

                   

Majesty, this is just a frolic.



   

                   

A piece about love.



   

                   

Love.



   

                   

Again!



   

                   

And it's new!



   

                   

lt's entirely new. lt's so new

that people will go mad for it.



   

                   

l have scenes....



   

                   

The end of the second act,

for example....



   

                   

lt's a simple duet...



   

                   

...just a husband and a wife quarreling.

Suddenly...



   

                   

...the wife's scheming little maid

comes in. lt's a very funny situation.



   

                   

Duet turns into trio.



   

                   

The valet enters.

He's plotting with the maid.



   

                   

Trio turns into quartet.



   

                   

Then a gardener comes in.



   

                   

Quartet becomes quintet,

and so on and on...



   

                   

...sextet, septet, octet.



   

                   

How long do you think

l can sustain that?



   

                   

l have no idea.



   

                   

Guess.



   

                   

Guess, Your Majesty.



   

                   

lmagine the longest

it could be sustained...



   

                   

...then double it.



   

                   

 ?



   

                   

  minutes.



   

                   

  minutes?



   

                   

   sire!    minutes!



   

                   

   minutes of continuous music.

No recitatives!



   

                   

Only opera can do this.



   

                   

ln a play, if more than one person

speaks at once...



   

                   

...it's just noise.

No one can understand a word.



   

                   

But with opera, with music....



   

                   

With music you can have    individuals

all talking at the same time.



   

                   

And it's not noise.

lt's a perfect harmony!



   

                   

Music is not the issue.



   

                   

No one doubts your talent. lt's your

literary judgment that's in question.



   

                   

Even with the politics taken out of it,

it would still remain a vulgar farce.



   

                   

Why waste your spirit on such rubbish?



   

                   

Surely...



   

                   

...you can choose more elevated themes.



   

                   

Elevated!

What does that mean, elevated?



   

                   

l am fed...



   

                   

...to the teeth with these...



   

                   

...elevated things.

Old dead legends.



   

                   

Why must we go on forever...



   

                   

...writing only about gods and legends?



   

                   

Because they do.



   

                   

They go on forever.



   

                   

At least what they represent:

the eternal in us.



   

                   

Opera is here to ennoble us, Mozart.



   

                   

You and me,

just the same as His Majesty.



   

                   

Come on now, be honest!



   

                   

Who wouldn't rather listen

to a hairdresser than Hercules?



   

                   

Or Horatius or Orpheus.



   

                   

So lofty, they sound as if

they shit marble!



   

                   

What!



   

                   

Govern your tongue, Mozart,

how dare you!



   

                   

Forgive me, Majesty.



   

                   

l'm a vulgar man.



   

                   

But, l assure you,

my music is not.



   

                   

You are passionate, Mozart...



   

                   

...but you do not persuade.



   

                   

Sire, the whole opera is finished.



   

                   

You know how much work l did?



   

                   

His Majesty has been...



   

                   

...more than patient.



   

                   

How can l persuade you

if l can't show it?



   

                   

That will do.



   

                   

Let me tell how it begins.



   

                   

May l just do that?



   

                   

Show how it begins?



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

There's a servant down on his knees.

And do you know why?



   

                   

Not from any oppression, no.

Because he's measuring a space.



   

                   

Do you know what for?



   

                   

His bed.



   

                   

His wedding bed.



   

                   

To see if it will fit!



   

                   

Late!



   

                   

On the beat.



   

                   

Good!



   

                   

Yes!



   

                   

Early!



   

                   

Mozart is already rehearsing.



   

                   

ln that case, gentlemen, l think...



   

                   

...we should help him all we can.



   

                   

And do our best to protect him

against the emperor's anger.



   

                   

What anger?



   

                   

About the ballet.



   

                   

What ballet?



   

                   

Excuse me...



   

                   

...but didn't

His Majesty specifically...



   

                   

...forbid the ballet at his opera?



   

                   

A word with you.



   

                   

Certainly, Herr Direktor.



   

                   

Now, Herr Mozart!



   

                   

Five minutes, please.



   

                   

Do you not know that His Majesty has

expressly forbidden ballet in operas?



   

                   

lt's not a ballet, it's a dance

at Figaro's wedding.



   

                   

Exactly. A dance.



   

                   

Surely, His Majesty didn't mean

no dancing when it's in the story.



   

                   

lt is dangerous to interpret his edicts.

Give me your score, please.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

What are you doing?



   

                   

Taking out what you should

never have put in.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

l have no one else to turn to.



   

                   

What is it?



   

                   

lt's unbelievable.



   

                   

The Direktor has actually torn up

a huge section of my music.



   

                   

They say l have to rewrite the opera.



   

                   

But it's perfect as it is.



   

                   

l can't...



   

                   

...rewrite what's perfect.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

Can't you talk to him?



   

                   

Why bother with Rosenberg?

He's no friend of yours.



   

                   

l could kill him.

l mean, really! Kill him!



   

                   

l threw the entire score into the fire,

he made me so angry.



   

                   

You burned the score?



   

                   

No, my wife took it out in time.



   

                   

Thank God.



   

                   

lt's unfair that a man like that

should have power over our work.



   

                   

But others have power over him.



   

                   

l think l'll take this up

with the emperor.



   

                   

Excellency...



   

                   

...would you?



   

                   

With all my heart, Mozart.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Please, Herr Mozart.

Please, it's not a holy relic.



   

                   

l don't need to tell you

l said nothing whatever to the emperor.



   

                   

l went to the theatre to tell

Mozart something, anything...



   

                   

...when suddenly...



   

                   

...in the middle of the third act...



   

                   

...to my astonishment,

the emperor...



   

                   

...who never attended rehearsals...



   

                   

...suddenly appeared.



   

                   

What is this?



   

                   

l don't understand.



   

                   

ls it modern?



   

                   

The Herr Direktor...



   

                   

...he has removed un balletto...



   

                   

...that would have occurred

at this place.



   

                   

Why?



   

                   

lt's your regulation.



   

                   

No ballet in your opera.



   

                   

Do you like this?



   

                   

lt's not a question of liking.



   

                   

Your own law decrees it, l'm afraid.



   

                   

Look at them!



   

                   

This is nonsense!



   

                   

Let me see the scene with the music.



   

                   

Oblige me!



   

                   

Can we see the scene

with the music back, please?



   

                   

Certainly!



   

                   

Certainly, Herr Direktor.



   

                   

Bring the palace set back in, please.



   

                   

The restored third act...



   

                   

...was bold, brilliant.



   

                   

The fourth...



   

                   

...was astounding.



   

                   

l saw a woman...



   

                   

...disguised in her maid's clothes...



   

                   

...hear her husband speak the first

tender words he'd offered her in years.



   

                   

Simply because he thinks

she is someone else.



   

                   

l heard the music of true forgiveness

filling the theatre...



   

                   

...conferring on all who sat there

perfect absolution.



   

                   

God was singing

through this little man...



   

                   

...to all the world.



   

                   

Unstoppable.



   

                   

Making my defeat more bitter

with every passing bar.



   

                   

And then...

do you know what happened?



   

                   

A miracle!



   

                   

With that yawn...



   

                   

...l saw my defeat turn...



   

                   

...into a victory.



   

                   

Mozart was lucky

The emperor yawned only once.



   

                   

Three yawns...



   

                   

...and the opera would fail

the same night. Two yawns...



   

                   

...within a week at most.

With one yawn...



   

                   

...the composer could still get...



   

                   

...nine performances! Nine,

that's all it's had...and withdrawn.



   

                   

l know, l know.



   

                   

lt's outrageous.



   

                   

Still, if the public

doesn't like one's work...



   

                   

...one has to accept

the fact gracefully.



   

                   

But what is it they don't like?



   

                   

l can speak for the emperor. You make

too many demands on the royal ear.



   

                   

He can't concentrate

over an hour.



   

                   

You gave him four.



   

                   

What did you think of it?



   

                   

Did you like it at all?



   

                   

l thought it was marvelous.



   

                   

Of course.



   

                   

lt's the best opera yet written!



   

                   

l know it.



   

                   

Why didn't they come?



   

                   

l think you overestimate

our dear Viennese, my friend.



   

                   

You didn't even give them

a good bang at the end of songs...



   

                   

...to tell them when to clap.



   

                   

l know.



   

                   

You should give me lessons in that.



   

                   

l wouldn't presume.



   

                   

Nevertheless, at the risk of imposing...



   

                   

...l'd like you to see my new piece.



   

                   

lt would be a tremendous honor for me.



   

                   

No, the honor would be all mine.



   

                   

l believe...



   

                   

...l believe...



   

                   

...it is the best opera...



   

                   

...yet written, my friends.



   

                   

You are the brightest star...



   

                   

...in the musical firmament.



   

                   

You do honor to Vienna...



   

                   

...and to me.



   

                   

lt was good of you to come.



   

                   

How could l not?



   

                   

Bravo, maestro.



   

                   

Did my work please you?



   

                   

l never knew that

music like that was possible.



   

                   

You flatter me.



   

                   

One hears such sounds...



   

                   

...and what can one say but...



   

                   

...Salieri!



   

                   

Everybody's here and we've got guests.



   

                   

l've got some more.



   

                   

You remember

my good friend Schikaneder.



   

                   

Come in!



   

                   

Don't be shy. This is...



   

                   

...a very nice girl, and this is too....



   

                   

Yes, my love?



   

                   

These gentlemen are from Salzburg.



   

                   

We were just talking about Salzburg.



   

                   

Your father is dead.



   

                   

So rose...



   

                   

...the dreadful ghost,

from his next...



   

                   

...and blackest opera.



   

                   

There, on the stage,

stood the figure of a dead commander.



   

                   

And l knew...



   

                   

...only l understood...



   

                   

...that the horrifying apparition

was Leopold...



   

                   

...raised from the dead!



   

                   

Wolfgang had summoned up

his own father...



   

                   

...to accuse his son

before all the world!



   

                   

lt was...



   

                   

...terrifying and wonderful to watch.



   

                   

And now...



   

                   

...the madness began in me.



   

                   

The madness of a man

splitting in half.



   

                   

Through my influence, l saw to it...



   

                   

...Don Giovanni was played

only five times in Vienna.



   

                   

But, in secret,

l went to every one of those five.



   

                   

Worshipping sound...



   

                   

...l alone seemed to hear.



   

                   

As l stood there, understanding...



   

                   

...how that bitter old man

still possessed his poor son...



   

                   

...even from beyond the grave...



   

                   

...l began to see a way...



   

                   

...a terrible way...



   

                   

...l could finally triumph...



   

                   

...over God.



   

                   

l have come to commission

work from you.



   

                   

What work?



   

                   

A mass for the dead.



   

                   

What dead?



   

                   

Who's dead?



   

                   

A man who deserved

a requiem mass...



   

                   

...and never got one.



   

                   

Who are you?



   

                   

l am only a messenger.



   

                   

Do you accept?



   

                   

You'll be well paid.



   

                   

Do you accept?



   

                   

Work fast.



   

                   

And be sure to tell no one

what you do.



   

                   

You will see me again soon.



   

                   

My plan was so simple...



   

                   

...that it terrified me.



   

                   

First, l must get the death mass,

and then...



   

                   

...l must achieve his death.



   

                   

What?



   

                   

His funeral!



   

                   

lmagine it! The cathedral...



   

                   

...all Vienna sitting there.

His coffin...



   

                   

...Mozart's little coffin in the middle.



   

                   

And then...



   

                   

...in that silence...



   

                   

...music!



   

                   

A divine music bursts out

over them all.



   

                   

A great mass of death.



   

                   

Requiem mass for Wolfgang Mozart.



   

                   

Composed by his devoted friend...



   

                   

...Antonio Salieri.



   

                   

What sublimity!



   

                   

What depth!



   

                   

What passion in the music!



   

                   

Salieri has been

touched by God at last...



   

                   

...and God forced to listen.



   

                   

Powerless to stop it!



   

                   

l, for once, in the end,

laughing at Him!



   

                   

The only thing that worried me...



   

                   

...was the actual killing.



   

                   

How does one do that?



   

                   

How does one kill a man?



   

                   

lt's one thing...



   

                   

...to dream about it.



   

                   

Very different when you...



   

                   

...when you have to do it...



   

                   

...with your own hands.



   

                   

Come in!



   

                   

l've come to dinner.



   

                   

Dinner! Are you mad?

l'm a nobleman.



   

                   

l only ever dine

with people of my own height.



   

                   

Stop it!



   

                   

Be careful! Be careful!



   

                   

Hold tight!



   

                   

l'm a famous...



   

                   

...horseman



   

                   

And we're a famous horsie



   

                   

Give me a hoof my darling



   

                   

And l'll give you my heart



   

                   

Take me to your stable



   

                   

And never more we'll part



   

                   

Kill me!



   

                   

Kill me!



   

                   

We're going to make a soprano stew



   

                   

And when you make a soprano stew



   

                   

Shut up!



   

                   

l'm sick to death of that tune!



   

                   

Give him some hay, my darling



   

                   

And l'll give you my heart



   

                   

Leporello! Some hay!



   

                   

We hope

You're contented



   

                   

With what

We've presented



   

                   

And love our dove of peace



   

                   

What did you think?



   

                   

Wonderful!



   

                   

He liked the little people.



   

                   

lt's all in good fun.



   

                   

l liked the horse.



   

                   

l tell you, if you played

Don Giovanni here...



   

                   

...you would have had

a wonderful success.



   

                   

You belong here!



   

                   

Not at the snobby court.

You could do anything you like.



   

                   

The more fantastic, the better.

That's what people want: fantasy!



   

                   

You write a proper part for me

and a couple of catchy songs...



   

                   

...l guarantee you a triumph deluxe!



   

                   

-What do you say?

-How much will you pay him?



   

                   

l see you brought

your manager with you.



   

                   

Well, madame...



   

                   

...how about...



   

                   

...half the receipts?



   

                   

Half the receipts!



   

                   

l'm talking about now.



   

                   

How much will you pay him now?



   

                   

Down payment.



   

                   

Down payment?



   

                   

Who do you think l am, the emperor?



   

                   

l have to go.



   

                   

Stay, you'll enjoy this.



   

                   

You won't do this.



   

                   

-Why not? Half the house!

-When?



   

                   

We need money now! Either he

pays you now, or you don't do it.



   

                   

l don't trust that man.



   

                   

And l don't like what he did

with your opera. lt was common.



   

                   

You liked it.



   

                   

Monkey, punky, flunky!



   

                   

Half the house!

You'll never see a penny.



   

                   

l want it here in my hand.



   

                   

l'll put it here in your hand.



   

                   

You won't put a thing in my hand

until l see some money!



   

                   

It's embarrassing . Can't you think of

anyone who can do something for him?



   

                   

I' m afraid Mozart

is a lost cause, baron.



   

                   

He has succeeded in alienating

practically the whole of Vienna.



   

                   

He never pays his debts.



   

                   

l can 't think of anyone

to whom l'd dare recommend him.



   

                   

Herr Mozart. What a surprise!



   

                   

What can I do for you?



   

                   

Is my pupil still interested

in learning the art of music?



   

                   

Your pupil is married

and living in Mannheim, young man.



   

                   

Really?



   

                   

Perhaps your dear wife might care

to profit from my instruction.



   

                   

What is it, Mozart?



   

                   

What's the matter with you?



   

                   

Well . . .



   

                   

. . .since it appears no one

is eager to hire my services. . .



   

                   

. . .could you favor me

with a little money instead?



   

                   

What for?



   

                   

If a man cannot earn, he must borrow.



   

                   

That's hardly the way to go about it.



   

                   

You are right, sir. You are right.



   

                   

But you see, I am endowed

with talent, and you with money.



   

                   

If I offer mine. . .



   

                   

. . .you should offer yours.



   

                   

I'm sorry, no.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

My answer is no, Mozart.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

Please!



   

                   

Don't answer it.



   

                   

Why?



   

                   

Tell him I'm not here.



   

                   

Tell him I'm working on it.



   

                   

Come back later.



   

                   

Am I interrupting something?



   

                   

-No.

-Good.



   

                   

Where's our friend?



   

                   

He's not here.



   

                   

But he said he's working on it.



   

                   

Is that it?



   

                   

Is he happy with it?



   

                   

What's this?



   

                   

A requiem mass?



   

                   

You think I'm in the funeral business?



   

                   

Put it down! Put it down!



   

                   

Put it down,

it's nothing for you!



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

What have you got for me?



   

                   

Finished?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

The vaudeville, what do you think?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Can I see it?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

Why not?



   

                   

Because there's nothing to see.



   

                   

I asked you if we could start

rehearsals next week and you said yes.



   

                   

We can.



   

                   

So let me see it.

Where is it?



   

                   

Here.



   

                   

It's all right here in my noodle.



   

                   

The rest is just scribbling.



   

                   

Scribbling and bibbling,

bibbling and scribbling.



   

                   

Want a drink?



   

                   

Do you know how many people

I've hired for you?



   

                   

Leave him alone!



   

                   

I'm paying these people!



   

                   

He's doing his best.



   

                   

I'm paying them to wait for you.

It's ridiculous!



   

                   

You know what's ridiculous?

Your libretto's ridiculous!



   

                   

Only an idiot would ask Wolfie

to work on that!



   

                   

  -foot snakes, magic flutes?



   

                   

What's so intelligent about a requiem?



   

                   

Money.



   

                   

You're mad.



   

                   

She's mad.



   

                   

Wolfie, write it down.



   

                   

Just write it down.



   

                   

On paper.



   

                   

It's no use to anybody in your head.



   

                   

To hell with your death mass!



   

                   

Calm yourself.

What's the matter with you?



   

                   

I'm not working there anymore.



   

                   

What has happened?



   

                   

You don't know what it's like.



   

                   

Herr Mozart frightens me.



   

                   

He drinks all day...



   

                   

...then takes all that medicine

and it makes him worse.



   

                   

Is he working?



   

                   

I'm frightened, sir, really!



   

                   

When he speaks he makes no sense.



   

                   

Is he working?



   

                   

I suppose so.



   

                   

He sits there all the time,

doing some silly opera.



   

                   

Please, don't ask me to go back again.



   

                   

I'm frightened.

I'm very, very frightened!



   

                   

Are you sure it's an opera?



   

                   

I don't have it yet.



   

                   

Are you neglecting my request?



   

                   

I promise you.



   

                   

I'll give you the best piece I ever--



   

                   

This is my wife.



   

                   

I've been sick but I'm

all right now, aren't I?



   

                   

Yes, sir.

He's all right.



   

                   

And he's working on it very hard.



   

                   

Two more weeks.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

The sooner you finish,

the greater your reward. Work!



   

                   

I think you really are going mad.



   

                   

You work like a slave for that idiot

actor who won't give you a penny!



   

                   

And here....



   

                   

This is not a ghost!



   

                   

This is a real man

who puts down real money.



   

                   

Why on earth won't you finish it?



   

                   

Can you give me one reason

I can understand?



   

                   

It's killing me.



   

                   

You're drunk, aren't you?



   

                   

Be honest, tell me.

You've been drinking.



   

                   

It's not fair.



   

                   

I worry about you all the time.



   

                   

I do everything I can to help you.



   

                   

And all you do is drink

and talk nonsense, and frighten me.



   

                   

Go to bed!



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

Let me sit here.



   

                   

Let me stay here with you.



   

                   

I did it!

And I was proud to do it.



   

                   

Leave, I said!

Right away!



   

                   

And take the child with you!

Here's the money! Go to the spa...



   

                   

...and get your health back.



   

                   

I was shocked...



   

                   

...shocked to my foundation

when I saw her.



   

                   

I couldn't believe my eyes,

poor little thing.



   

                   

You monster!

No one exists but you, do they?



   

                   

You and your music.



   

                   

I warned her.



   

                   

''Choose a man, not a baby,'' I said.



   

                   

You marry him,

you won't have a pot to piss in.



   

                   

You selfish thing!



   

                   

Selfish, that's what you are.

Selfish.



   

                   

Simply selfish!

Do you hear me?



   

                   

Pick him up.



   

                   

Be careful!

Come with me!



   

                   

You! Follow me.



   

                   

Is it over?



   

                   

Yes, it's over.

It's over.



   

                   

Go!



   

                   

Go!



   

                   

Where is your wife?



   

                   

Where is your wife?



   

                   

She's not well either.

She went to the spa.



   

                   

You are so good to me.

Truly.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Please!



   

                   

No, I mean, to come to my opera.



   

                   

You are the only colleague

of mine who came.



   

                   

I would never miss anything

you had written.



   

                   

It's just a vaudeville.



   

                   

It's a sublime piece.



   

                   

The grandest operone!



   

                   

I tell you...



   

                   

...you are the greatest

composer known to me.



   

                   

Do you mean it?



   

                   

It's him!



   

                   

The man.



   

                   

He's here.



   

                   

Tell him to go away.



   

                   

Tell him I'm still working on it.

Don't let him in.



   

                   

Wait!



   

                   

Ask him if he would

give me some money now.



   

                   

Tell him it will help me finish.



   

                   

-Can we come in?

-Better not.



   

                   

He's sleeping.



   

                   

He's all right?



   

                   

Yes, he's just exhausted.



   

                   

He became dizzy.



   

                   

That's all.



   

                   

Tell him we came by, won't you?



   

                   

Of course.



   

                   

Give him this.



   

                   

That's his share.



   

                   

-That should cheer him up.

-Indeed!



   

                   

And now good night to you all.

It was...



   

                   

...perfection. Truly!



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

What happened?



   

                   

He said to give you this.



   

                   

And if you finish by tomorrow...



   

                   

...he'll pay     ducats more.



   

                   

That's too soon!



   

                   

Tomorrow night....



   

                   

It's impossible!



   

                   

Did he say    ?



   

                   

It's too soon!



   

                   

Could I help you?



   

                   

Would you?



   

                   

Actually, you could.



   

                   

-I want to go!

-Where?



   

                   

Back to Vienna.



   

                   

Now?



   

                   

-Yes.

-Why?



   

                   

I feel wrong.



   

                   

I feel wrong being here.



   

                   

Where did I stop?



   

                   

The end of the Recordare.



   

                   

So. Now, confutatis...



   

                   

...when the wicked are confounded.



   

                   

How would you translate that?



   

                   

''Consigned to flames of woe.''



   

                   

You believe in it?



   

                   

A fire which never dies,

burning you forever.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Is it possible?



   

                   

Let's begin.



   

                   

We ended in F-major.



   

                   

So now...



   

                   

...A-minor.



   

                   

Confutatis. A-minor.



   

                   

Start with voices.



   

                   

Basses first.

Second beat of the first--



   

                   

Time? Time?



   

                   

Common time.

Second beat of the first measure.



   

                   

On ''A.''



   

                   

Second measure, second beat.



   

                   

You see?



   

                   

Yes. D-sharp?



   

                   

Of course.



   

                   

Second beat of the

third measure, on ''E.''



   

                   

Do you have me?



   

                   

Show me!



   

                   

Good.



   

                   

Now the tenors.



   

                   

Fourth beat of the first measure.

On ''C.''



   

                   

Second measure.

Fourth beat. ''D.''



   

                   

Yes, continue!



   

                   

Second beat of the

fourth measure, on ''F.''



   

                   

Now the orchestra. Second bassoon

and bass trombones with the basses.



   

                   

Identical notes and rhythm.



   

                   

First bassoon, tenor trombones,

with the tenors.



   

                   

You go too fast.



   

                   

Too fast!



   

                   

Do you have it?



   

                   

Trombone with what?



   

                   

Tenors.



   

                   

Identical?



   

                   

Of course!

The instruments doubling the voices!



   

                   

Trumpets and timpani.



   

                   

Trumpets in ''D.''



   

                   

Listen!



   

                   

Trumpets in ''D,'' tonic and dominant.

First and third beats.



   

                   

It goes with the harmony!



   

                   

Yes, I understand.

Yes! And that's all?



   

                   

No. Now for the real fire.

Strings in unison.



   

                   

Ostinato on ''A.''



   

                   

Like this!



   

                   

Next measure is rising.



   

                   

Do you have it?



   

                   

Show me!



   

                   

Wonderful!



   

                   

Go on.



   

                   

Write that down!



   

                   

Call me among the blessed.



   

                   

''C'' major.



   

                   

Sopranos and altos in thirds.



   

                   

Altos on ''C,''

sopranos above.



   

                   

Sopranos up to ''F'' on the second voca?



   

                   

And on dictis!



   

                   

And underneath, just violins.

Arpeggios.



   

                   

Descending scale in eighth notes,

then back to the Ostinato.



   

                   

That's it. You have it?



   

                   

You go too fast.



   

                   

One moment please!

One moment!



   

                   

Good! Show me!

The whole thing!



   

                   

From the beginning!



   

                   

Want to rest?



   

                   

No, I'm not tired at all!



   

                   

We'll stop...



   

                   

...for a moment.

Then we'll finish the lacrimosa.



   

                   

I can keep going, I assure you!



   

                   

Stay with me while I sleep a little?



   

                   

I won't leave you!



   

                   

l'm so ashamed.



   

                   

Of what?



   

                   

I was foolish.



   

                   

I thought you did not care

for my work...



   

                   

...or me.



   

                   

Forgive me.



   

                   

What are you doing here?



   

                   

Your husband...



   

                   

...took sick.



   

                   

I brought him home.



   

                   

Why you?



   

                   

Because Madame, I was at hand.



   

                   

Thank you very much,

you can go now.



   

                   

He needs me.



   

                   

No, he doesn't...



   

                   

...and I don't want you here.



   

                   

Just go, please.



   

                   

He asked me to stay.



   

                   

And I'm asking--



   

                   

I'm back.



   

                   

I missed you so much.



   

                   

If you'd just...



   

                   

...show me that you need me.



   

                   

And I'll try to do better, too.



   

                   

What is this?



   

                   

No, Wolfie, not this.



   

                   

You're not to work on this ever again.



   

                   

I've decided.



   

                   

It's not his handwriting.



   

                   

No, it's mine.



   

                   

I was assisting him.



   

                   

He's not to work on this anymore.



   

                   

It's making him ill.



   

                   

Good night.



   

                   

I regret we have no servants

to show you out, Herr Salieri.



   

                   

Respect my wish and go.



   

                   

I will respect his.



   

                   

Your merciful God.



   

                   

He destroyed his own beloved...



   

                   

...rather than let a mediocrity...



   

                   

...share in the smallest part

of his glory.



   

                   

He killed Mozart.



   

                   

And kept me alive to torture.



   

                   

   years of torture.

   years...



   

                   

...of slowly watching myself

become extinct!



   

                   

My music...



   

                   

...growing fainter.



   

                   

All the time fainter...



   

                   

...till no one plays it at all.



   

                   

And his....



   

                   

Good morning!



   

                   

Time for the water closet.



   

                   

Then we have your favorite breakfast.



   

                   

Sugar rolls!

He loves those.



   

                   

Fresh sugar rolls.



   

                   

I will speak for you, Father.



   

                   

I speak for all mediocrities

in the world.



   

                   

I am their champion.



   

                   

I am their patron saint.



   

                   

Mediocrities everywhere...



   

                   

...I absolve you.



   

                   

I absolve you.



   

                   

I absolve you all.







  

  

  

 
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