Amadeus

Mozart!

Mozart!

Forgive your assassin!

I confess, I killed you!

Si, I killed you, Mozart.

Pieta!

Mozart, pieta! Forgive your assassin!

Forgive me, Mozart!

Signore Salieri, open the door, be good now!

Signore, we have something special for you.

Something you're going to love.

Mmm...

Is that good!

Signore, believe me...

this is the most delicious thing I ever ate in my life!

Really, signore, you don't know what you're miss--

All right, that's enough, signore! Open the door.

Signore, if you don't open this door

we're gonna eat everything and we're gonna leave nothing for you.

And I'm never gonna come and see you again!

[glass crashing and thudding on piano keys]

Good morning, Father.

Herr Salieri?

Leave me alone.

I cannot leave alone a soul in pain.

Do you know who I am?

That makes no difference.

All men are equal in God's eyes.

Are they?

Offer me your confession.

I can offer you God's forgiveness.

How well are you trained in music?

I know a little. I studied it in my youth.

- Where? - Here in Vienna.

Ah! Then you must know this.

I can't say that I do.

What is it?

It was a very popular tune in its day.

I wrote it.

Here, how about this?

This one brought down the house when we played it first.

Bravo!

Well?

I regret it is not too familiar.

Can you recall no melody of mine?

I was the most famous composer in Europe.

I wrote 40 operas alone.

Here!

What about this one?

Rum, pum-- Yes, I know that!

That's charming!

I'm sorry, I didn't know you wrote that.

I didn't.

That was Mozart.

Wolfgang...

Amadeus Mozart.

The man you accuse yourself of killing.

You've heard that?

Is it true?

For God's sake, my son...

if you have something to confess, do it now.

Give yourself some peace.

He...

was my idol.

Mozart.

I can't think of a time when I didn't know his name.

I was still playing childish games

when he was playing music for kings and Emperors.

Even the pope in Rome.

I admit, I was jealous...

when I heard the tales they told about him.

Not of the brilliant little prodigy...

but of his father, who had taught him everything.

My father, he did not care for music.

When I told him...

how I wished I could be like Mozart he would say,

"Why? Do you want to be a trained monkey?

Would you like me to drag you around Europe

doing tricks like a circus freak?"

How could I tell him what music meant to me?

While my father prayed earnestly to God to protect commerce...

I would offer up...

secretly...

the proudest prayer a boy could think of.

Lord, make me a great composer.

Let me celebrate your glory through music...

and be celebrated myself.

Make me famous through the world, dear God.

Make me immortal.

After I die...

let people speak my name forever with love for what I wrote.

In return...

I will give you my chastity...

my industry...

my deepest humility, every hour of my life.

Amen.

And do you know what happened?

A miracle!

Francesco!

Francesco!

Amen! Amen! Amen! Amen! Amen

Amen! Amen! Amen! Amen! Amen

My life changed forever.

Of course, I knew God had arranged it all.

That was obvious.

One minute I was a frustrated boy in an obscure little town.

The next I was here...

in Vienna, city of musicians,

and Emperor Joseph, the musical king.

In a few years, I was his court composer.

Isn't that incredible?

Night after night I sat right next to the Emperor of Austria

playing duets with him...

correcting the royal sight-reading.

Actually, the man had no ear at all.

But what did it matter?

He adored my music.

Everybody liked me.

I liked myself...

until he came.

He came to Vienna to play some of his music...

at the residence of his employer the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg.

Eagerly I went there to seek him out.

That night...

changed my life.

As I wandered through the salon, I played a little game with myself.

This man had written his first concerto at the age of four,

his first symphony at seven,

a full-scale opera at twelve.

Did it show?

Is talent like that written on the face?

Which one of them...

could he be?

Ah.

Mozart is not here.

- Stop it! - I am.

- Stop it! - l am stopping it.

- Stop it! - I am.

I am! I'm stopping it. Slowly.

There. You see? I've stopped.

- Now we're going back. - No!

- Yes! - No.

Listen, you don't know where you are.

Here, everything goes backwards.

People walk backwards and dance backwards and sing backwards

and even talk backwards.

- That's stupid. - Why? People fart backwards.

Oh, ha-ha-hal!

Say I'm sick.

Say I'm sick.

Yes, you are. You are very sick.

No! Say it backwards, shit-wit!

- Say I am sick. - Say I am sick?

Sick, kics ma iyas.

Kiss my ass.

Em-yrram.

- No, I'm not playing this game. - Just say it, it's serious. Em-yrram.

- No! - Say it. You'll see it's very serious.

Em-yrram.

Yrram.

Marry me.

No, I'm not gonna marry you. You're a fiend.

Uoy-evol-I-tub.

Uoy-evol-I-tub.

Tub, but, I, evol...

love...

But I love you?

- Tihs-ym-tae. - What?

Tihs-ym-tae.

- Eat. - Eat.

Ym, my. -My.

Tihs, eat my shit.

You filthy fiend!

You filthy fie--

My music.

They've started without me.

Excuse me.

That was Mozart!

That.

That giggling, dirty-minded creature I'd just seen crawling on the floor.

Well, I think that went off remarkably well, don't you?

Indeed.

These Viennese certainly know good music when they hear it, don't you think?

Certainly.

Your Grace.

Ah! Mozart.

- Why? - Why what, sir?

Why do I have to be humiliated in front of my guests

by one of my own servants?

The more license I allow you, the more you take.

If his Grace is not satisfied with me, he can dismiss me.

I wish you to return immediately to Salzburg.

Your father is waiting for you there, patiently.

No, Your Grace!

I mean with all humility I would prefer you dismissed me.

It's obvious I don't satisfy.

I have no intention of dismissing you.

You will remain in my service

and learn your place.

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