Amadeus

Although this fictionalized drama of 18th-Century Viennese court composer Salieri bringing down young genius Mozart seems a jealousy-inspired revenge tragedy, director Michael Edwards emphasizes its theme of a struggle with God. Music, as Salieri confesses, is "God's art," and He bestowed the most sublime gift of producing it on His darling Amadeus (whose name signifies "Beloved of God"). This, despite Salieri's prayers and difficulties in leading a virtuous life. This, despite the young Mozart's profane grossness and sexy silliness. Then, too, Salieri had to work like mad to cook up tidbits while Mozart easily tossed off feasts for the ears. So, didn't such considerations have to change Salieri into a obsessive stalker of Mozart, practicing perfidy against him at every turn? He reveals to us "ghosts of the distant future" his many transgressions, calculated to strike against the unfair Creator by destroying His perfect music-making creature. And damned if the perverse divinity didn't appear to help Salieri keep acquiring fame and fortune -- even as he sinned by betraying wife, mistress, Emperor en route to victimizing Mozart!

Yet, because a humanly diminished Mozart only gained in musical genius, and Salieri could not stop secretly recognizing it, God needed further come-uppance. So after Mozart's death, Salieri decided not to squelch a rumor (fostered by Mozart's widow Constanza) that he had poisoned his better. He wants to achieve lasting importance as the silencer of God's voice on earth. As long as his name is linked with the greatness of Mozart, Salieri will share in his fame for all time.

All powerful stuff, and Edwards and his company at Asolo Rep aim not to diminish these points in Peter Schaffer's script.

That Shaffer takes many liberties with fact is an argument to be made outside consideration of the play as fiction. The way he distorts so many details and characterizations indicates, in fact, his familiarity with the relevant history. He also knows enough of Mozart and Salieri's music to fictionalize the genesis of well-known examples, tying them into phases of Mozart's life especially. Asolo Rep plays these -- his relationships with Constanza, his father, the Emperor, Court musical leaders, fellow Masons -- like subplots. Recorded bits of the actual music treat us but have less importance than characters' visible reactions to them, most significantly Salieri's.

What I find rather astonishing is how very English is not only Shaffer's but Asolo Rep's Viennese court. Notably, Bryan Torfeh's Salieri, as cunning a schemer and near to embodying evil as one might imagine, is Italian less by way of demeanor or ease with the language than by acting with Machiavellian justifications. He's realistic, though, among court musicians so one-dimensional that the roles don't deserve David Breitbarth, Douglas Jones and Richard Pell. Ironically, as the Masonic Baron van Swieten, Stephen Johnson comes off as the only substantial noble. The irony is that he stepped into the part on short notice when the originally cast Richard Ramos had a fatal heart attack during final rehearsals.

I did not at all believe James Clarke's gruff (as usual) Emperor Joseph II, whom Shaffer much maligned for not knowing much about music and being miserly to Mozart. It's a role that cries for subtle, not outright, stupidity.

Led by Colby Chambers as the boorish, at first exuberant and later despairing Amadeus, as well as SaRa Schabach's giddy but ultimately moving Constanza, the young supporting players shine. Paul Molnar and Jaime Tintor, Salieri's black-clad aides Venticello 1 and 2, jolt us into his presence and cunningly serve his purposes throughout.

Playing Salieri's student, then mistress and accomplished singer Katherina, radiant Leigh Anne Wuest makes a fine counterpart to the wife presented silently but with telling reserve by Jenn Walker.

Robert A. McLean's sound design deserves special praise. David Zinn upholds Asolo's reputation in costume creation. Michael Ganio's settings have the simplicity needed to keep the scenes flowing. However, the climactic snow-filled scene with Mozart's simple brown coffin being hoisted up an abstract white stairway flanked by stylistic music stands hits jarring notes.

Mood and mode of the production change melodramatically. As with music, sometimes simplicity is better than pulling out all the stops. Perhaps it would be best to ease two virtuoso performances naturally into our memories.