Amadeus

INT. STAIRCASE OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT - 1823

Total darkness. We hear an old man's voice, distinct and in

distress. It is OLD SALIERI. He uses a mixture of English

and occasionally Italian.

OLD SALIERI:

Mozart! Mozart! Mozart. Forgive me!

Forgive your assassin! Mozart!

A faint light illuminates the screen. Flickeringly, we see

an eighteenth century balustrade and a flight of stone stairs.

We are looking down into the wall of the staircase from the

point of view of the landing. Up the stair is coming a

branched candlestick held by Salieri's VALET. By his side is

Salieri's COOK, bearing a large dish of sugared cakes and

biscuits. Both men are desperately worried: the Valet is

thin and middle-aged; the Cook, plump and Italian. It is

very cold. They wear shawls over their night-dresses and

clogs on their feet. They wheeze as they climb. The candles

throw their shadows up onto the peeling walls of the house,

which is evidently an old one and in bad decay. A cat scuttles

swiftly between their bare legs, as they reach the salon

door.

The Valet tries the handle. It is locked. Behind it the voice

goes on, rising in volume.

OLD SALIERI:

Show some mercy! I beg you. I beg

you! Show mercy to a guilty man!

The Valet knocks gently on the door. The voice stops.

VALET:

Open the door, Signore! Please! Be

good now! We've brought you something

special. Something you're going to

love.

Silence.

VALET:

Signore Salieri! Open the door. Come

now. Be good!

The voice of Old Salieri continues again, further off now,

and louder. We hear a noise as if a window is being opened.

OLD SALIERI:

Mozart! Mozart! I confess it! Listen!

I confess!

The two servants look at each other in alarm. Then the Valet

hands the candlestick to the Cook and takes a sugared cake

from the dish, scrambling as quickly as he can back down the

stairs.

EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE SALIERI'S HOUSE - VIENNA - NIGHT

The street is filled with people: ten cabs with drivers,

five children, fifteen adults, two doormen, fifteen dancing

couples and a sled and three dogs. It is a windy night. Snow

is falling and whirling about. People are passing on foot,

holding their cloaks tightly around them. Some of them are

revelers in fancy dress: they wear masks on their faces or

hanging around their necks, as if returning from parties.

Now they are glancing up at the facade of the old house.

The window above the street is open and Old Salieri stands

there calling to the sky: a sharp-featured, white-haired

Italian over seventy years old, wearing a stained dressing

gown.

OLD SALIERI:

Mozart! Mozart! I cannot bear it any

longer! I confess! I confess what I

did! I'm guilty! I killed you! Sir

I confess! I killed you!

The door of the house bursts open. The Valet hobbles out,

holding the sugared cake. The wind catches at his shawl.

OLD SALIERI:

Mozart, perdonami! Forgive your

assassin! Pietˆ! Pietˆ! Forgive your

assassin! Forgive me! Forgive!

Forgive!

VALET:

(looking up to the

window)

That's all right, Signore! He heard

you! He forgave you! He wants you to

go inside now and shut the window!

Old Salieri stares down at him. Some of the passersby have

now stopped and are watching this spectacle.

VALET:

Come on, Signore! Look what I have

for you! I can't give it to you from

down here, can I?

Old Salieri looks at him in contempt. Then he turns away

back into the room, shutting the window with a bang. Through

the glass, the old man stares down at the group of onlookers

in the street. They stare back at him in confusion.

BYSTANDER:

Who is that?

VALET:

No one, sir. He'll be all right.

Poor man. He's a little unhappy, you

know.

He makes a sign indicating 'crazy,' and goes back inside the

house. The onlookers keep staring.

CUT TO:

INT. LANDING OUTSIDE OLD SALIERI'S SALON - NIGHT

The Cook is standing holding the candlestick in one hand,

the dish of cakes in the other. The Valet arrives, panting.

VALET:

Did he open?

The Cook, scared, shakes his head: no. The Valet again knocks

on the door.

VALET:

Here I am, Signore. Now open the

door.

He eats the sugared cake in his hand, elaborately and noisily.

VALET:

Mmmm - this is good! This is the

most delicious thing I ever ate,

believe me! Signore, you don't know

what you're missing! Mmmm!

We hear a thump from inside the bedroom.

VALET:

Now that's enough, Signore! Open!

We hear a terrible, throaty groaning.

VALET:

If you don't open this door, we're

going to eat everything. There'll be

nothing left for you. And I'm not

going to bring you anything more.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote