Sam Clemmett, Jefferson Mays, and Ensemble (Photo – Jeff Lorch)
When you close your eyes, can you travel back to the moments that first gave your life its sense of purpose? Did a warm breakfast stir your desire to become a chef? Did the salt-thick air of the ocean call you to travel? Or did the trembling vibrations of an ardent violin solo make a virtuoso out of you? Yes? Perhaps that awakening felt divinely appointed, like an unexplainable course correction so deep in your soul that it papers over inadequacies and transforms you into something extraordinary?
By Natalia Rose
Careful.
For when purpose hardens into obsession, devotion can curdle into destruction. As Salieri confesses in Amadeus by Peter Shaffer: “You put into me perception of the incomparable — which most men never know! — then ensured that I would know myself forever mediocre.”
Most Pasadena Playhouse attendees may walk into the theatre having already seen the 1984 motion picture Amadeus, starring the electric Tom Hulce as Mozart and F. Murray Abraham as the depraved narrator, Salieri. Despite my adoration for the film, our California State Theatre once again proved that some stories provide a more powerful collective awakening (anagnorisis) on the stage.
Amadeus is a narrator-heavy show; therefore, director Darko Tresnjak wisely brought Jefferson Mays from the Tony Award–winning A Gentleman’s Guide to Love & Murder to command the audience as the vengeful Salieri. Ever since high school, I have admired Jefferson’s mastery of comedy, movement, and vocal precision. Watching him on stage is to be led through a story’s twists as if guided by a hidden compass.
One of those treasures was the brilliant performance of rising star Sam Clement as the title character, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The gripping battle between Sam and Jefferson, two composers striving for greatness, felt like a tug-of-war on my moral heartstrings. One moment, I sided with Salieri’s resentful rage toward God; the next, I was swept up in Mozart’s manic love for music and life. Shaffer’s story is less about music than about jealousy, legacy, and the perils of obsession.
Despite centering on two historical composers of the late eighteenth century, there is only one instrument physically present in the play, a choice that surprisingly aids comprehension. Peter Shaffer’s language, combined with the ingenuity of lighting designer Pablo Santiago and sound designer Jane Shaw, created a visual sense of musical synesthesia. As Salieri (Jefferson Mays) examined Mozart’s (Sam Clement) sheet music, the lights melted into purples and reds while the music rose and fell dynamically, leading the audience through a carefully tailored, evocative experience of Mozart’s compositions. These design elements, along with live opera performances by Michelle Allie Drever, Matthew Patrick Davis, and Alysha Fox, put into perspective just how vulnerable Mozart’s music felt compared to the guarded compositions of his contemporaries.
The use of space was exceptional. The set and projections, designed by Alexander Dodge and Aaron Rhyne, made my jaw drop on numerous occasions, displaying not only what was necessary to see, but also what felt transcendental. The foundational set suggested a grand red royal hall, formed by two large sloping flats painted to create forced perspective. Above, an open space allowed projections, shifting light and dreamlike imagery, to introduce an otherworldly dimension within an otherwise period-accurate world.
“That’s our job, we composers: to combine the inner mind of him and her — the thoughts of chambermaids and court composers — and turn the audience into God!” This passionate declaration from Mozart in Act II reveals the difference between him and our resentful narrator, Salieri. Mozart uses his purpose to celebrate life and bring goodness; Salieri seeks only fame, treating the universe like a transactional force.
Careful! The moral is to detach, and there it is.
Jefferson Mays and Sam Clemmett (Photo – Jeff Lorch)
‘Amadeus’ Through March 15 8:00 pm Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays 7:00 pm Thursdays 2:00 and 8:00 pm Saturdays 2:00 and 7:30 pm Sundays. Location Pasadena Playhouse 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena. Tickets start at $53. Contact: (626) 356-7529 or pasadenaplayhouse.org
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