By BRUCE DENNILL
Amadeus / Directed by Geoffrey Hyland / Pieter Toerien’s Montecasino Theatre, Fourways, Johannesburg
Peter Shaffer’s 1979 play, like its 18th Century subject matter, has aged well, not least because its central themes are, if anything, even more prevalent now than they were then. Nowadays, through exposure to millions of shared social media scenarios seen on a daily basis, individuals likely to feel insecure should they perceive someone to be better than they are at their core skill or greatest passion are assailed by constant evidence that their suspicions are correct. And their self-esteem is not necessarily any less affected than if their competitors were in the same room, showing all who cared to observe just what a superior skill level they have.
In this light, it’s possible to feel some sympathy for Amadeus’ protagonist and narrator, Antonio Salieri, played by Alan Committie, particularly because the popular actor’s primary stage personae are so personable, making it just a touch tougher to accept the character’s more villainous side. Salieri has made the most of his life within what are his confessed and accepted limitations, and his sharp mind and ambition are a combination that could see him move further up the ladder under Austrian Emperor Joseph II (Mark Elderkin, in a sterling comedic turn), whom he serves as court composer.
That is until the arrival of wunderkind Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Aidan Scott), whose touring of the continent as a child prodigy has already cemented his reputation as a musical genius. To Salieri’s jaundiced eye, the newcomer is vulgarity personified, even if his ever-developing talent is obvious. And the script clearly supports that view, painting Mozart as the prototype libertine rock star – irresponsible in everything from the way he allows his talents to be used to his sex life and abuse of alcohol. Shaffer’s imagining of both men has long been assessed as rather inaccurate, but the characters of both composers as presented here undeniably make for more drama and dark comedy.
Scott brilliantly makes the most of his character’s eccentricity, hyperactive creativity and non-stop dynamism, buzzing around Nadine Minaar’s striking set as he and all his co-stars play out stylised choreography of the unfolding story, with most of the eight-strong cast (all strong) having more than one role. He is by turns charming and inspiring and maddeningly annoying, helping to regularly swing audience support from Mozart to Salieri, depending on who is pulling which stunt at which time.
Illka Louw’s costumes are wonderful, combining the frills and layers and length of the era in which the play is set with a sharp, edgy punk aesthetic that fits the show’s energy, and particularly Mozart’s tradition-challenging sensibilities. And the visual impact is further heightened by Oliver Hauser’s compact lighting design, which creates sharp shadows to bolster the hatred and anger in a monologue one moment while creating a spotlight for a strutting performer in another.
The story, bolstered by a historical record that played out more or less exactly as Salieri feared it would – Mozart remains regarded as a peerless virtuoso, while the older man’s cultural impact is scarcely acknowledged in relative terms – takes a commendably deep dive into some dark emotional spaces that most audience members can acknowledge contemplating, if not feeling to the same degree. The onstage drama and humour and machinations are highly entertaining throughout, meaning that a two-and-a-half-hour running time never drags, but the audience may need to do their real business after the lights have come up, musing as they leave over which of the play’s archetypes best fits their own behaviour and desire for success or fame or notoriety over fairness and compassion for others.
