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Амадей

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of imposing. . .
. . .I'd like you to see my new piece.
It would be a tremendous honor for me.
No, the honor would be all mine.
I believe. . .
. . .I believe. . .
. . .it is the best opera. . .
. . .yet written, my friends.
You are the brightest star. . .
. . .in the musical firmament.
You do honor to Vienna. . .
. . .and to me.
It was good of you to come.
How could I not?
Bravo, maestro.
Did my work please you?
I never knew that
music like that was possible.
You flatter me.
One hears such sounds. . .
. . .and what can one say but. . .
. . .Salieri!
Everybody's here and we've got guests.
I've got some more.
You remember
my good friend Schikaneder.
Come in!
Don't be shy. This is. . .
. . .a very nice girl, and this is too. . . .
Yes, my love?
These gentlemen are from Salzburg.
We were just talking about Salzburg.
Your father is dead.
So rose...
. . .the dreadful ghost,
from his next. . .
. . .and blackest opera.
There, ob the stage,
stood the figure of a dead commander.
And I knew. . .
. . .only I understood. . .
... that the horrifying apparition
was Leopold...
. . .raised from the dead!
Wolfgang had summoned up
his own father...
. . .to accuse his son
before all the world!
It was. . .
. . .terrifying and wonderful to watch.
And now. . .
. . .the madness began in me.
The madness of a man
splitting in half.
Through my influence, I saw to it. . .
. . .Don Giovanni was played
only five times in Vienna.
But, in secret,
I went to every one of those five.
Worshipping sound...
...I alone seemed to hear.
As I stood there, understanding...
. . .how that bitter old man
still possessed his poor son. . .
...even from beyond the grave...
...l began to see a way...
...a terrible way...
. . .I could finally triumph. . .
. . .over God.
I have come to commission
work from you.
What work?
A Mass for the dead.
What dead?
Who's dead?
A man who deserved
a Requiem Mass. . .
. . .and never got one.
Who are you?
I am only a messenger.
Do you accept?
You'll be well paid.
Do you accept?
Work fast.
And be sure to tell no one
what you do.
You will see me again soon.
My plan was so simple. . .
. . .that it terrified me.
First, I must get the death Mass,
and then. . .
. . .I must achieve his death.
What?
His funeral!
Imagine it! The cathedral. . .
. . .all Vienna sitting there.
His coffin. . .
. . .Mozart's little coffin in the middle.
And then. . .
. . .in that silence. . .
. . .music!
A divine music bursts out
over them all.
A great Mass of death.
Requiem Mass for Wolfgang Mozart.
Composed by his devoted friend. . .
. . .Antonio Salieri.
What sublimity!
What depth!
What passion in the music!
Salieri has been
touched by God at last. . .
. . .and God forced to listen.
Powerless to stop it!
I, for once, in the end,
laughing at Him!
The only thing that worried me. . .
. . .was the actual killing.
How does one do that?
How does one kill a man?
It's one thing. . .
. . .to dream about it.
Very different when you. . .
. . .when you have to do it. . .
. . .with your own hands.
Come in!
I've come to dibber.
Dinner! Are you mad?
I'm a nobleman.
I only ever dine
with people of my own height.
Stop it!
Be careful! Be careful!
Hold tight!
I'm a famous...
...horseman
And we're a famous horsie
Give me a hoof, my darling
And I'll give you my heart
Take me to your stable
And never more we'll part
Kill me! Kill me!
We're going to make a soprano stew
And when you make a soprano stew
Shut up!
I'm sick to death of that tune!
Give him some hay, my darling
And I'll give you my heart
Leporello! Some hay!
We hope
You're contented
With what
We've presented
And love our dove of peace
What did you think?
Wonderful!
He liked the little people.
It's all in good fun.
I liked the horse.
I tell you, if you played
Don Giovanni here. . .
. . .you would have had
a wonderful success.
You belong here!
Not at the snobby court.
You
Амадей Амадей

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