Amadeus is a film about talent and freedom, and how their incompatibility with society leads to their destruction in the name of ideology.

Miloš Forman

Amadeus is a sort of bridge between the past and the present, evoking a homelike, Central European atmosphere, while also delivering a polished product that appeals to the general public. It skilfully blends an exaggerated sense of the absurd with caricatures of the nobility and common people (especially of Emperor Joseph II’s court, as well as ham actors, artists, and servants), without forgetting the importance of its hero (better yet, its rival “heroes”). The film nods to high culture while embracing the engaging storytelling style preferred by Hollywood. Indeed, it won eight Oscars, nearly sweeping the major categories. Nominated for Best Actor, Tom Hulce, who played Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart – although he would have deserved it – lost that contest to F. Murray Abraham’s portrayal of Salieri. Antonio Salieri, the mature court musician, shrewd diplomat, and persuasive liar, emerges as the true “anti-hero” of Forman’s film. He is marked by a tragic awareness of his own incurable lack of talent (in stark contrast to the genius he believed was his divine destiny)…
While the young, vibrant, and self-destructive Wolfgang Amadeus is the film’s mercurial centre…, it is Salieri – the cautious, tormented figure – who is its dark heart and most narratively intriguing character. Amadeus is one of Forman’s many young characters; in the 1960s, he would have been a hippy in Central Park… Salieri, however, represents something new in Forman’s filmography. He is neither the institution nor “evil personified” like Nurse Ratched, nor the naïve, awkward bourgeois parents struggling to connect with their children that [Forman] so often depicted. Salieri is a man of culture. He comprehends both the art and psychology of the rebellious genius he must reckon with. He despises Mozart for his brilliance but cannot help but envy and crave it. Salieri is a complex and multifaceted character, desperately lacking in natural gifts and profoundly lonely. You can neither hate him nor love him.

Emanuela Martini, Salieri il Nero, in Miloš Forman, edited by Angelo Signorelli, Bergamo Film Meeting, Bergamo 2017