My favourite kind of theatre visits are off the cuff, where I decide to go based on whim rather than want. My ticket to see Amadeus at the National Theatre was such a whim. I was actually on their website to look at another show, but something about Amadeus caught my eye. For the remaining run I found one, lonely ticket left. It was £15. It practically begged to be bought, so I took pity on it – and what a whim it was.
Amadeus is simply extraordinary. I knew of the 1985 film, adapted from this same play. People had recommended it to me over and over as a music lover but I had yet to watch. Now I’m not sure I ever shall: it cannot compare. Amadeus’ story concerns the rivalry between Antonio Salieri, court composer and upstanding gentleman, and Mozart, foul-mouthed, spoiled newcomer to the Austrian scene. What promised to be a simple story of scandal and jealousy became a triumph of both music and stage.
With a play that leaves you somewhat stupefied, it’s hard to know where to begin. The outstanding performances were key, but it was the live Southbank Sinfonia that outshone the lot. They played, they acted, and they moved the narrative with seamless ease making sure the audience was with them for the ride. The operatic singers were no less extraordinary – Fleur de Bray’s Magic Flute solo was breathtaking.
I knew nothing of Salieri, but felt certain that Lucian Msamati embodied him perfectly. His performance was unwavering and immense. The struggles Salieri faces are well scripted, but his gradual descent into jealousy and destruction were acted so well that it was painful to watch. The contrast between Msamati’s Salieri and Adam Gillen’s Mozart came as a sharp shock.
For such an eminent composer, I expected Mozart’s portrayal to be one of grandeur and earned greatness. What came tumbling and cursing onto the stage felt, for some minutes, an abomination. Here was a titan of classical music reduced to anal-jokes, with a voice so aggravating it undid all compositional beauty. I hated Mozart on sight and sound. I wanted the devout, quietly passionate Salieri to triumph. It seemed to me that Gillen was hopelessly miscast.
But then things began to change. With the music of the ever-morphing Sinfonia, Mozart’s true character began to infiltrate. His fervour for music shone through and it was like watching the sun rise on stage. Whatever his character, his talent and music eclipsed it all. I suddenly understood and was absolutely enthralled.
As Mozart became both miscreant and maestro, Salieri met him halfway. Determined to keep his position, Salieri set out to stop young Mozart’s success in its tracks. No double-crossing is beyond him, and the results are gut-wrenching. Michael Longhurst’s production manages to make the vulgar venerated, and the scrupulous sinister. I cried for the character I had loathed – I felt as manipulated as the doomed, desperate Mozart.
If there was fault to find, it was in the nearly three hour run time. Some of the audience were distinctly fidgety as it came to a protracted end. Amadeus opens and closes on an old Salieri, reflecting on his sins. But after an awesome two and a half hours in between, returning to this scene seems mightily dull. Just five or ten minutes shaved off the end would suffice in settling the audience. Msamati’s unshakeable performance carried it through, however, and Amadeus had made its point: losing Mozart meant losing the magic.
Amadeus has sold out, but you can still get £15 and £20 tickets with a little planning involved. For £20 tickets, look online at 1pm each Friday. For £15 on the door tickets, get to the theatre before opening time on the day and you should be successful. The play runs till mid-march, but if you’re unsuccessful fear not. Amadeus returns in 2018, so put it in your calendar now. The reward is absolutely worth the effort. After all, no great art is without sacrifice.
The post Review: Amadeus’ Riotous, Heart-Rending Return to the National Theatre appeared first on Felix Magazine.
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