Amadeus

Mozart, your father has died.

Thought it might help to have the news

delivered by a friendly face.

Is that what you are?

There in that demonic figure on stage was his own father

and in that poor wretched philanderer Mozart himself.

And I knew where, in time, I would place the final blade.

How long do I have?

I wouldn't linger.

The mood is changing.

You're a man out of time.

I'm enjoying it. I found it rather

tuneful.

And I'd say the whole thing's rather thin so far.

You're getting distracted! You have to focus on the music!

It made me realise everything I know about you

I've had to learn through your characters.

And I wondered if you... if you could ever open up to me.

You can't stay with me.

It isn't good here.

There is always a reckoning.

You told me to do this!

This can't happen again.

This was your idea, Mozart!

He was weak, broken and alone.

So, into the darkness we go.

Frau Mozart?

Yes.

Thank goodness. My name is Alexander Pushkin.

I've been searching for you.

I... I've asked around everywhere.

Cafes, bars, concert halls.

And then, finally, I tried the post office.

I don't know why I didn't start there.

But, here we are.

What is it that you want, Mr Pushkin?

What is it that I want, yes.

Well...

I'm a writer. You might have heard of me.

No, or you might not.

Anyway, I'm writing a play.

Or, rather, I'm hoping to write a play.

Are you going around to everyone's houses to tell them individually?

No.

No, I came to find you

because I'm hoping to write about your husband.

Which one?

I think you know which one.

And what are you hoping to write about him?

Well, I... I want to write about his death.

He died of a fever.

People think his music should have been some kind of shield.

But he was flesh and blood just like the rest of us.

He got ill.

I-I heard something different.

And what did you hear?

I heard it was murder.

- You heard that? - Yes.

From who?

The old Hofkapellmeister, Salieri.

He ended up in an asylum. He lost his mind.

- Did you know that? - I did.

And presumably you heard he died last year.

- Yes. - And they say

he was ranting and raving.

Screaming like a baby towards the end.

And they say in the weeks before he died

it was mostly incomprehensible.

Mostly nonsense.

Except for one thing.

One thing he kept saying.

He told them

that it was he who killed your husband.

Apparently, they say, he confessed.

And, apparently, he confessed to you.

What do you think of that?

Because I can tell you what I think.

I think that would make a pretty good story.

"I state merely as fact

that I, on the fifth of December

in the year 1791

killed Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart."

Well, what am I to glean from all of this, Antonio?

You still don't believe it?

No, it's lacking something.

What?

Specificity.

How did you do it?

Poison, strangulation?

You desire details.

Well, you have given me details

of every other damn aspect of your life so far.

I apologise. I thought I'd been providing context.

Well then, let's get to it. Your confession.

You want me to let the world know that you killed my husband.

I need to know how.

And I need to be convinced.

Where is it that you go?

I used to be more certain of your indiscretions.

Is it his carnal desires that he feeds tonight?

You were inflicting wounds on me

but they were survivable.

But this spectre walking through my house

what am I to make of this?

I have known, Antonio.

I have known everything.

And every time I have looked at you

I have seen a fallible, ruined man

and that has brought me sadness.

Now I see no man at all.

The sins of the flesh are at least human.

But what sins are you looking for

when you creep out of here?

I'll lock our bedroom door tonight.

And hope you don't think to look for me when you return.

A fever was cutting through Vienna

killing those who didn't have the strength to fight it.

And so, night by night, I returned

and weakened him further.

His spirit

his body

and his mind.

I'd been playing this little game.

Inspired by Don Giovanni .

I stood outside his window

every night for a week.

The masked man.

Come to drag him to hell.

It's remarkable really

how fragile the mind is.

How quickly it unravels.

Yes, that was him

unravel, unsure

and alone.

Mozart?

May I come in?

Please.

Sorry to call on you so late. I...

Well, I've been worried.

You have a new commission?

Did you speak with the Masons about The Magic Flute ?

I did. I'm afraid they've taken it rather badly.

The symbols were intended as a tribute.

I know, I explained that to them.

I must admit I was surprised

by the force of their feelings on the matter.

Don't worry. They'll calm down in time.

I'm not sure I have that.

You don't look well, Maestro.

I haven't been sleeping.

I try, but I can't.

Why not?

Do you believe in hell, Antonio?

Yes, I do.

Do you?

I remember

when I was staying in London as a child

my father became ill

bedridden for a few weeks.

There was one night where his fever was particularly bad.

And I could hear something in the street outside

sort of singing.

I thought perhaps it was the angels come to take him away.

Or if not the angels, then something worse.

That's the first time I can remember having this feeling.

Like I was being shown...

Death?

I can feel the end is close, Antonio.

I'm writing a Requiem.

You just need to eat, Mozart.

Nourish yourself with something other than wine.

I'll get you some food.

I'll be back soon.

Your vessel is weak.

Silence is coming.

Let's see if You can speak without a tongue.

I can stop it. I can. I can stop it. Let me.

Give up Your stubbornness.

God, just give

give me a sign.

I'll end it all.

All right.

Is this what You want?

Please give in.

Please.

Speak through me once more.

Let me stop.

Let me stop.

Let me stop.

Hello?

Please. Please.

Father, please.

Leave me alone. Leave me alone!

And what do you want from me?

I want to know the truth.

If there really was a confession.

If I am to write it

condemn a man, even a dead man

I want to know he was guilty of the crime I'm attributing to him.

I don't want to be sued.