Miloš Forman’s ‘Amadeus’ is often remembered as a lavish period drama about Mozart, but the film can also be read as a sly allegory about totalitarianism, censorship, and the crushing of individual genius — themes deeply rooted in the director’s own life as a political émigré.
Released in 1985, Amadeus became a major cinematic event, winning eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director. F. Murray Abraham received the award for Best Actor for his portrayal of Antonio Salieri. Despite international acclaim, Forman’s work provoked mixed reactions, inspiring both admiration and fierce rejection.
Hidden meanings had always been characteristic of Forman’s films. Even before his emigration from Czechoslovakia, in 1967 he directed The Fireman’s Ball, a sharp satire on the absurdity and inefficiency of the communist regime. After the suppression of the Prague Spring, he was declared a traitor and forced to move to the United States.
The theme of resisting totalitarian censorship and oppressive power runs through nearly all of his subsequent works, including the famous One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Amadeus was no exception. In the film, Mozart appears as a gifted individual ultimately destroyed by the repressive system of the Habsburg monarchy.
Emperor Joseph II, surrounded by flatterers who favored Salieri’s familiar melodies, contributes to the tarnishing of Mozart’s reputation and his struggle for innovation. The film contains subtle references to the KGB (‘Committee of State Security’), such as the maid in Mozart’s house who turns out to be Salieri’s spy.
Filming Under Watchful Eyes
The production of Amadeus took place in the first half of 1983. To work within the Eastern Bloc, Forman, as an émigré, had to sign an agreement with the authorities, promising not to meet with dissidents. He later described constant surveillance: his telephone calls were tapped, two unmarked cars followed him everywhere, and his driver was a state security agent.
F. Murray Abraham recalled the set as a place of constant tension, where nitpicking and intimidation by communist officials clashed with the rebellious humor of the Czechs. The crew never forgot, even for a moment, that they were being watched.
The tension culminated on U.S. Independence Day, July 4. During the filming of an opera scene, just after the director called for the cameras to roll, the American flag was suddenly raised and nearly five hundred Czech extras began singing the U.S. national anthem in unison, openly expressing their support for the West. Around thirty informers planted among the crowd reportedly looked on in terror, unsure how to react.
A Cold War Allegory
The relationship between the two composers in the film has also been interpreted as an allegory of the Cold War. Scholar Paul Fraser, author of Cold War in Cinema, draws a parallel: Salieri as a Soviet “Lada” attempting to become a “Ford Mustang.” Since Salieri cannot equal Mozart, he resorts to undermining and manipulating him. This, Fraser argues, reflects the old Soviet approach to the West: instead of trying to surpass it, the USSR relied on sabotage and discreditation.
In the final scene, Salieri declares himself the protector of mediocrity. These words may symbolize not only his personal tragedy but also the broader idea of suppressing individuality and talent under totalitarian control.
