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Peter
Shaffer’s Amadeus is a tremendously powerful meditation on the nature of
artistic inspiration that cruelly inducts its own audience into the ranks of
"mediocrities" -- those capable of appreciating genius without actually having
it. It is both a provocation to human pride and a celebration of human potential. The play
recounts the story of Mozart’s latter years from the perspective of jealous Viennese
court composer Antonio Salieri. Salieri is a talented but uninspiring craftsman cursed
with the ability to see that Mozart, an uncouth and spoiled young man, is possessed of a
truly divine gift. Feeling betrayed by the God to whom he swore fidelity as a child,
Salieri sets out to foil the Almighty’s great plan and destroy His instrument. The
result is one irony after another, building to a shattering resolution with the power both
to humble and ennoble.
Amadeus has been reshaped several times since its initial
appearance in 1979 at the Royal National Theatre, London with Paul Schofield and Simon
Callow. To most people, the screenplay written by the playwright himself for director Milos Forman’s film will be the most
familiar text, a version which expanded greatly upon the original, particularly in
enhancing the role played by the music itself. In 2003, Shaffer pronounced the
play"'complete" and published what is known as "version 6." This is
the version chosen by Ouroboros for their inaugural production.
This company, emerging from the proverbial ashes of Theatreworks
intends "to offer...an exciting and enriching experience by choosing texts that tell
epic and transforming tales of the profundity of the human spirit" and mounting works
rarely (if ever) seen in Ireland. Amadeus fits that bill extremely well, first
seen on the Dublin stage in 1981 with Alan Stanford as Salieri. The 2004 production
features Theatreworks’ award-winning Denis Conway as Salieri and Patrick Moy (She Stoops to Conquer)
as Mozart.
Ouroboros has certainly pulled out all the stops for this show, which
uses the large space at the Samuel Beckett Theatre to showcase Ferdia Murphy’s simple
but impressive set. Most of the action is framed against a large white backdrop with
rotating mirrored panels and a front design evocative of the 18th-century setting. The
floor space is also large and also white (with tiling and a trapdoor), simply but
effectively throwing the focus upon the actors. Though the costuming, supervised by Karen
McGovern, is of the period, the production is not about slick trappings and naturalistic
production values. It is, as the play always has been, a difficult proving ground for the
two main performers, whose characters confront one another across a range of moral,
social, ethical, artistic, linguistic, religious, economic and intellectual barriers.
Conway gives the audience both barrels from the opening scene and
almost never lets up. Most comfortable with the rage and passion of the character, he
howls in heart-rending frustration during the closing speech of Act One, which director
Michael Caven (Skylight)
notes in the program that he almost always uses for auditions. As Salieri screams his
defiance at the God he feels has betrayed him, the theatre is certainly filled with
Conway’s presence. Meanwhile Moy seems perpetually on the verge of orgasm as Mozart,
nervously bouncing up and down, gyrating his hips, and occasionally expelling a
high-pitched giggle to relieve the pressure. He's "part divine prodigy, part foul
mouthed punk" as Caven says. Together the two actors carry enough wattage to exhaust
an audience, which they sometimes do.
Supporting turns from Robert O’Mahony as Imperial Court director
Franz Orsini-Rosenberg and Philip O’Sullivan as Masonic Baron Gottfried van Swieten
show a little more graduation, and Jonathan White is amusing in the short scenes he enjoys
as Emperor Joseph II. These performances, along with those in chorus parts by Gary Murphy
and Tony Flynn provide a little room to breathe in between bouts of arguably overwhelming
gusto from the leads. "A little less enthusiasm," (as the Emperor himself says
to Mozart at one point) might have left more room for the actors to explore the rich
contours of these characters as written, and given Caven freedom to explore more affecting
emotional and intellectual resonances in the script. The production remains a clarion call
for Ouroboros’ future role in Irish theatre, but sometimes a whisper can be as loud
as a scream.
