Adam Gillen as Wolfgang Mozart in Amadeus at the National Theatre (c) Marc Brenner
“Forgive me, Majesty. I am a vulgar man! But I assure you, my music is not.”
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
Watching the National Theatre’s revival of Amadeus is an overwhelming experience. I only wish that its author Peter Shaffer had lived to see it. It is a very personal, intense story of jealousy and hubris; a small but marketable talent which has brought social success set against the kind of genius which will always go its own way and scatter everything before it, even when given to a rude, annoying little egotist. However much Salieri, the established “court composer” fights against the young upstart Mozart and puts obstacles in his way to make him suffer there is only going to be one winner. The “voice of God” which pains him so much may come from an “obscene child” but it is still the voice of God and only that can confer immortality.
The play demands two great central performances and Lucien Msamati as Salieri and Adam Gillen as Mozart deliver them in spades. Both characters are deeply sympathetic as well as flawed.
Lucien Msamati appeals directly to the audience from the start (as fellow mediocrities) and we know how he feels. He commands attention alone on stage or rises above a spectacular tumult of music and action seemingly effortlessly. We may not like Salieri but we can understand him. He is our alter ego and who can say that they would not have behaved as badly as he did when provoked by a far greater talent which appeared in the form of someone with no social graces or sense of the politeness and restraint necessary to succeed at court? The rules which he had lived by were being thrown aside. He was good enough to know how far he was surpassed but not good enough to do anything about it and that is a bitter pill to swallow- one that we all have to force down.
Adam Gillen as Mozart is just extraordinary. It is easy to show us the hyperactive, egotistical little upstart and he does, but what makes him extraordinary is that we also see the heart of the music. He is a vulnerable young man who has been denied a normal childhood, made to work frantically with a strict discipline that has left him with a need to let rip. That kind of childhood leaves a scar and he shows us both the genius and the lost child. It is a performance that I will never forget. His costumes are utterly perfect too, which always helps. Adelle Leonce is a perfect wife for him as Constanze- not an easy job- and they make a believable couple.
The director Michael Longhurst took a huge risk in this production and needed all his considerable skills, along with the choreographer Imogen Knight, to marshal both the cast and the South Bank Sinfonia who appear alongside them and play Mozart’s music live. This opens out the text gloriously, making what Salieri is telling us come to life, and allowing us to see the joy and freedom that Mozart finds in his music as he conducts. Their discipline is immaculate and they have been given complex direction, moving around and commenting silently on the action as they play. Their timing is perfect throughout. The design by Chloe Lamford is spectacular. The Olivier revolve and the whole of the space is used to great effect as we are shown different perspectives and viewpoints and the costumes are colourful and witty, period with a twist. It is beautifully organised too- we always know exactly where we should look. This production doesn’t just fill the huge and notoriously difficult space, it commands it and batters it into submission. It is a complex and ambitious concept which was either going to fall flat on its face or soar and it is thanks to the talent and, perhaps even more than that, the discipline of everybody involved that it takes flight.
I think that the biggest compliment I can pay this production is that if I ever see Amadeus again I want it done in exactly the same way and if Adam Gillen can come back and play Mozart again that will suit me just fine.