Friday, January 13, 2012

Why I like Amadeus despite deriding the costume drama genre

Alright, I am going to say this right now: I have a horrible bias against costume dramas. To me they’re all about repressed rich people opressed by societal norms and there’s always someone who must marry someone else even though they are in love with another person oh no! And there are affairs and shame and it’s all supposed to be super intruiging and maybe a war or some other historical event comes around and messes everything up or there’s some sultry affair and it’s all very dignified with British accents. I’m sure this is completely unfair and somewhat inaccurate, but I just see costume dramas as everyone falling in love with Poofy Dress Eras and assuming that’s a signifier of a Prestigous Movie with Pretigious British Actors, and I’m sick of it.

And yet, despite all this bitching, one of my favorite movies is an Oscar-winning costume drama. How could the person who just wrote that bullshit above have fallen in love with a two and a half hour Poofy Dress Film in middle school? There are two reasons I can think of.

The first being that Amadeus doesn’t have the classic elements of repression or restrictive society or even forbidden love at all. Sure, Salieri has his vow of chastity and unrequited love for his muse, but the entire point of the film is that society seems to bend over backwards for Mozart. The only obstacles caused by society are the ones that Salieri takes advantage of to bring down Mozart. Mozart supposedly has sultry affairs, but it’s not dwelled upon or treated as particularly scandalous for anyone but Salieri. And what’s presented as Serious Business isn’t as much political standing as the understandable and real feelings of Salieri.

And that brings me to the second reason: the actual themes of the film apply to any time and anyone. Amadeus is about two things: inferiority and jealousy. Who hasn’t met someone like Tom Hulce’s Mozart; someone who effortlessly beats you at whatever you do best, who seems to get all the luck and attention? There’s always that one person in school who aces the test everyone else bombed, the one person at work who doesn’t screw up a single thing, and the worst part is when they’re just so fucking nice about it. Salieri sees Mozart, this goofy looking lowbrow kid, and can’t believe that his best efforts pale in comparison to Mozart’s work. Why is he better than me, me who has made music my life’s work, he asks, and that’s something that people will always be asking. Why are things harder for me than for that guy? Why can’t I do as well as everyone else? When will I get my turn in the spotlight? No matter what the society, time, country, economic or social status, everyone has or will have those feelings at some point in their lives. I had felt it before when I was a fourth or fifth grader watching Amadeus in parts in music class, and it’s still relevant to me as a twenty-something.

Of course, there’s more to the film than just the themes. F. Murray Abraham delivers an amazing performance that lets us see ourselves in Salieri, and Tom Hulce is unforgettable as the perky, crude, obnoxious, and brilliant Mozart. The art direction and costumes are amazing; Mozart’s choice of wigs is a small touch with a surprising amount of meaning, and the cinematography is beautiful. Milos Forman borrowed a lens from Stanley Kubrick so he could shoot almost every scene without added light, which I can tell you is extremely impressive. The way the music is incorporated into the film is spot-on as well, and it all weaves together to create a truly great film.

I can’t imagine how any of the few people who read this wouldn’t have seen this film, but if you haven’t, it’s an absolute must. This clip is pretty late in the film, but it’s my favorite scene, and if this doesn’t impress you, I don’t know what will.

(I will note one thing: unfortunately, the version of Amadeus that’s easiest to get is the Director’s Cut, which is not actually Forman’s cut, but just the film with all the deleted scenes shoved back in. It’s still a great film, but it pads the runtime to about three hours, and the film is perfect without it. The theatrical version is only found on an old release that uses a double sided DVD, which is annoying.)

No comments:

Post a Comment