Amadeus Page #44

CONSTANZE:

Wolfi. Wolfi!

He looks at her. The music breaks off. Silence. An enormous

bang at the door startles him.

Constanze moves to open it.

MOZART:

No. Don't answer it!

CONSTANZE:

Why?

Mozart springs up. He is clearly terrified.

MOZART:

Tell him I'm not here. Tell him I'm

working on it. Come back later.

He runs out of he room, into his workroom, and shuts he door.

Now a little scared herself, Constanze goes to he front door

and opens it cautiously. Schikaneder stands there, floridly

dressed as usual. Lorl is seen peeking out from the kitchen.

SCHIKANEDER:

Am I interrupting something?

CONSTANZE:

Not at all.

SCHIKANEDER:

(peering into he room)

Where's our friend?

CONSTANZE:

He's not in. But he's working on it.

He said to tell you.

SCHIKANEDER:

I hope so. I need it immediately.

He pushes her into the room.

SCHIKANEDER:

Is he happy with it?

He sees he manuscript on the table, and goes to it eagerly.

SCHIKANEDER:

Is this it?

He picks up a page without waiting for a reply.

SCHIKANEDER:

What the devil is this? Requiem Mass?

Does he think I'm in the funeral

business?

Mozart opens he workroom door. We see him as Schikaneder

sees him:
wild-eyed, extremely pale and strange.

MOZART:

Leave that alone!

SCHIKANEDER:

Wolfi!

MOZART:

Put it down!

SCHIKANEDER:

What is this?

MOZART:

Put it down, I said! It's nothing

for you.

SCHIKANEDER:

Oh! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! What have

you got for me? Is it finished?

MOZART:

What?

SCHIKANEDER:

What? The vaudeville, what'd you

think?

MOZART:

Yes.

SCHIKANEDER:

Can I see it?

MOZART:

No.

SCHIKANEDER:

Why not?

MOZART:

Because there's nothing to see.

He giggles triumphantly. Schikaneder stares at him.

SCHIKANEDER:

Look, I asked you if we could start

rehearsal next week and you said

yes.

MOZART:

Well, we can.

SCHIKANEDER:

So let me see it. Where is it?

Mozart, with a bright, rather demented smile presents his

head to Schikaneder.

MOZART:

Here. It's all right here, in my

noodle. The rest is just scribbling.

Scribbling and bibbling. Bibbling

and scribbling. Would you like a

drink?

He giggles. Schikaneder suddenly grabs his lapels.

SCHIKANEDER:

Look, you little clown, do you know

how many people I've hired for you?

Do you know how many people are

waiting?

CONSTANZE:

Leave him alone!

SCHIKANEDER:

I'm paying these people. Do you

realize that?

CONSTANZE:

He's doing his best.

SCHIKANEDER:

I'm paying people just to wait for

you. It's ridiculous!

CONSTANZE:

You know what's ridiculous? Your

libretto, that's what's ridiculous.

Only an idiot would ask Wolfi to

work on that stuff!

SCHIKANEDER:

Oh yes? And what's so intelligent

about writing a Requiem?

CONSTANZE:

Money! Money!

SCHIKANEDER:

You're mad! She's mad, Wolfi.

CONSTANZE:

Oh yes, and who are you? He's worked

for Kings. For the Emperor.

(shouting)

Who are you?

Schikaneder suddenly takes Mozart by the arms, and speaks to

him with intense appeal.

SCHIKANEDER:

Listen, Wolfi. Write it. Please.

Just write it down. On paper. It's

no good to anyone in your head. And

f*** the Death Mass.

INT. SALIERI'S SALON - DAY - 1790'S

A frightened and tearful Lorl sits before Salieri.

SALIERI:

Now calm yourself. Calm. What's the

matter with you?

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