Hello all! Your humble blog master is bored for the moment, so what better way to alleviate said boredom than to pick on a classic, critically-acclaimed film?
This seems like a good candidate for a recurrng column. After all, who doesn't enjoy writing (or reading) a scathing review of a movie? And all of us enjoy occasionally being the odd man out, the iconoclast who hates the movie everybody else likes.
I'll make it clear: I am not taking on x-classic movie for the sake of being an iconoclast. I genuinely think any films listed in this series either suck, or are at least mediocre, which is a sin for an allegedly "classic" film. If you disagree, you're certainly entitled to your opinion, as I am entitled to mine. In any case, I'm sure x-film's reputation will survive my dissent, no matter how scathing or mean-spirited it may turn out.
With that out of the way, let us proceed to our first victim: Milos Foreman's adaptation of Peter Schaffer's Amadeus.
Amadeus, Or: Poofy Wigs Do Not A Period Film Make
Ah, Amadeus. Perhaps the perfect candidate for this column, if for no other reason than it is flawed in so many ways that its classification as a classic boggles the mind. It's a film that suffers from a number of ailments, including Smugness, Annoying Anachronism, and Bad Casting Disease, among many others. Yes, it has lots of period detail and a decent score by a little-known composer named Mozart. Does that make it a good film? Or, even, a period film?
Let's start with the biggest flaw. There is a class of movies (and plays) that fall under the self-contradictory category of "modern period piece" - a film which uses modern, and in many cases post-modern and (ugh!) self-aware. How one of these could exist is beyond me, but anyway... Amadeus is, along with The Lion in Winter (perhaps the perfect candidate for a future entry), one of the more obnoxious examples of this style of filmmaking. It can work - A Man for All Seasons being perhaps the greatest example of this sub-genre - but quite often it doesn't. In this instance, it's extraordinarily egregious, cloying, and irritating. The dialogue sounds like chit-chat amongst 20th Century New Yorkers, and is not convincing in even an abstract way as conversations of historical figures in 18th Century Austria. For this reason, and for all the great costumes, wigs, architecture and sets, the film isn't convincing for a second as a period piece, merely as a bit of anachronistic, self-aware pop art. The effect is rather disconcerting.
Some may find it a rather pednatic criticism, but hey, I wasn't the one who made the movie a period piece. Is it personal preference? You betcha. Of course I'm going to inject my opinion into an essay. Amadeus seems at times be trying on the airs of a black comedy; if there was anything funny in the movie, I might be willing to classify it as such. As it is, though, it's just obnoxious and annoying, "Oh-look-how-smart (and modern!) we-are!" story-telling. Someone pass me a barf bag.
The casting is really bizarre. Let's start with F. Murray Abraham. Abraham plays Salieri in an extremely subtle performance, with only a few glimmers of emotion. Subtlety can be a virtue. But here, Abraham is subtle to the point of being boring. Salieri is never a really compelling or interesting characer, his character development conveyed in trite, overwrought scenes such as his renouncing God by throwing a crucifix in the fire (YAWN!). This might be forgivable, if Abraham showed the slightest hint of emotion or feeling at any point in the film. Is this really one of the greatest performances in the history of cinema, as I've often heard it proclaimed? It would have been interesting to see the late great Paul Scofield, the original Salieri, play the part; now THERE was an actor who could be subtle without being boring and dull.
Let's proceed to Tom Hulce. Hulce is an extremely off-the-wall casting choice - his best-known part up to this time was in Animal House - and his portrayal of Mozart as an arrogant, air-headed, vulgar rock star is quite disconcerting. It's not necessarily inaccurate, and Hulce's actual performance is a lot more interesting and fun than the brooding boredom emanating from his co-star Abraham. But still, seeing Pinto as the greatest composer of all time is a sight beyond the comprehension of most mortal men. It's to Hulce's credit that he's able to do something with the role.
Let's deal then with the supporting cast. On paper, it's a very good cast - well, some of it - butthey are given the barest minimum of screen time in which to perform. Elizabeth Berridge is excrutiatingly flat, annoying, and out-of-place with a New York accent; she's not at all convincing as Mozart's wife, and one wishes to punch her every time she's on screen. Jeffrey Jones and Simon Callow (the original Mozart, interestingly enough) are the two best members of the supporting cast, but they have virtually nothing to do. The rest of the cast isn't really worth mentioning, save perhaps Christine Ebersole's small role as an actress who infatuates Salieri. Teensy-tiny parts, particularly in this film, would defeat even the best actors. And waddya know, that's what happens here.
From an entertainment point-of-view, Amadeus's biggest sin is that it's slow-paced, dull, and boring. I have no problems with a long or slow-paced film. What I do have problems with is a film that's slow-paced for little reason beyond self-indulgence, and when the time isn't filled up with things worth watching.
Here's the part where I'll have to no doubt part ways with many critics. At least a quarter of the movie seems to be made up of musical performances - orchestras, operas, piano playing, what have you. Instead of inducing an appreciation for Mozart and his works, it induces insomnia and sleep. Now, I recognize that, since we're dealing with Mozart, seeing at least some of his works is a good idea, and probably essential to the story. But do we really need never-ending passages of opera performances, again and again? Maybe I need to refine my taste in music so I could appreciate it more. Or maybe Messers Forman and Schaffer should have realized that this is a film, and putting in a never-ending series of stage performances-within-the-show only slows things to a deadening crawl. When your movie is already annoying, you definitely don't want to throw boring into the mix. Unless you're trying to make some sort of point. How post-modern.
So, in a nutshell: Amadeus sucks on toast. If I haven't persuaded you, then at least I had fun writing this article.
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