Amadeus by Peter Shaffer
Directed by Eric Hill
With Jonathan Epstein and Randy Harrison
Opens: June 23
Postscript: June 26 Closes: July 8

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" ... engrossing, soul-shattering, multifaceted."

June 23, 2006 performance reviewed by Frances Benn Hall.

It is hard to untangle the many strands of genius that flood the stage during the seemingly short three hours that Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus takes to unfold, gloriously, as the opening play of the Berkshire Theatre Festival's 2006 season.

So much of the production is beguiling that it is almost impossible to pin-point who is responsible for this magnificent production.

Director Eric Hill freezes his characters into dynamic stage pictures, drawing on his skills with Suzuki technique, and playwright Shaffer has written the static moments that call for such skills. Reading the play one can visualize them, but Hill’s spacing and placing, from the angle of character’s wrist to the positioning of the ensemble, are his own, graphic and startlingly right.

He is on the mark in his casting of the two antagonists, the diabolical but strangely appealing Salieri (Jonathan Epstein) and the leaping, mercurial Mozart (Randy Harrison).

Shaffer has written truly great roles for his two leads and in this production they are played greatly.

Salieri frames the play as narrator, old and near death and finally, unbelieved, eager to declare his guilt. In the dramatic scenes from the past that form the body of the play, he at first only distains the upstart crow, Mozart. He declines to believe that the God to whom he has promised to offer his own supposed genius could betray him.

But as he comes more and more to distrust his own gifts, despite worldly success, and to be forced to see Mozart possesses magic that he Salieri has been denied, his machinations to destroy Mozart become more and more diabolical. By the play's end he has not only destroyed his rival but has lost all faith in his own pact with a redeemer whom he finally judges not to exist at all.

Harrison gives us a Mozart capable at one moment of being revolting (if funny) in his vulgarity, and in the next moment being forgiven because of the pure and perfect music that wells up beneath, behind, and above his shenanigans. One loves him as one deplores him, and an essential child-like goodness radiates beneath his vulgarity. He accepts his genius as a given, even though in his adult years few believe in it.

As his young wife Constanza, Tara Franklin, in a secondary role, is versatile from her first bawdy entrance as a mousy-wousy pursued by Mozart, through her gallant defense of his music and sharing of his poverty, to her final role of almost-mother, cradling the dying boy-man in her arms. She is especially effective in the scene where, to help Mozart, she shames Salieri in his seduction plot.

All in the supporting cast are strong and effective, many playing several roles and all serving as scene changers with efficiency. All have obviously enjoyed some Suzuki training, evident especially in certain mute, but vital, appearances.

The play is engrossing, soul-shattering, multifaceted. The first act has the audience aroar with laughter at Mozart’s caprices and Salieri’s discomfort.

But in Act II, as Salieri’s hate for Mozart (and for God who seems to have betrayed him) deepens, the audience is totally silent. No one coughs, whispers, rattles a program; all just listen in a stunned awe as the music deepens and subtle light-changes color the background until all is blood-red and shadow patterns weave the background. Designer Matthew E. Adelson must have employed every key on his light board and every light hanging from the ceiling.

And in this play which demands intricate, sometimes brief, notes on a piano and at other times long background selections of Mozart’s glorious music, sound designer Nathan Leigh has scored the play well. Karl Eigsi has designed the gilt-edged 18th century, two procenium set called for by the script with a meticulous eye for detail, as has Olivera Gajic for the period costumes.

As narrator and villain, Epstein orchestrates the play, vainly insisting, for no one will believe him, that he is indeed a murderer, abandoned by God. He begs for a forgiveness that he was unable to ask of Mozart, even as the Requiem sounded in his ears.

There is great irony in the play. The mediocre Salieri gains honor and fame, but knows he never possesses genius, while Mozart, every gene in his body quivering with genius, dies feeling a failure, unable to make the world listen.

This play is so rich in so many ways and presented with such insight and talent that I wish it were possible to see it several more times during its too-brief run in Stockbridge. But seeing this production once has been a memorable experience and one I urge you to share. This is a play you will have hard time forgetting.