Antonio Salieri - a pious, polite working musician - allows himself to be utterly corrupted by the sting of professional jealousy. Comfortable in his position as Emperor Joseph II's court composer, Salieri is intoxicated by the delicate, masterful work of a contemporary, then repulsed to learn of the man's crude, lascivious personality.

The object of this adjoining scorn and adoration, of course, is the famed Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and the very essence of his being offends Salieri to the core. In Mozart, he sees affirmation of both God's majesty (the sublime compositions) and inequality (granting such gifts to one who appears so unworthy), a bald contradiction which drives him to renounce his faith and lash out at man and maker alike. Why should one work so hard, stressing and grinding to perfect a single phrase, when another seemingly plucks finished masterpieces from thin air, giggling and mocking all the while?

It's an excellent subject, subtle but profound, that's masterfully realized on the screen. F. Murray Abraham plays Salieri, stiff and conceited but also visibly moved by the music of the moment. An orchestra has the power to deliver a spiritual experience for some, and Abraham doesn't just make us believe he's feeling it; he helps us feel it, too. Tom Hulce is his counter-balance, the raw and mercurial Mozart. Hulce breezily personifies the duplicity that frustrates his rival, directing an opera with vigor and passion and then almost immediately spoiling the mood with a bad joke and a loud, shrill, inappropriate laugh. Mozart's laugh is like a bucket of cold water, dumped over the room. It alone speaks to why he's never accepted into polite society, despite the wonders he weaves on the podium.

These twin leads make for an exciting contrast, each lifted by the presence of the other. No wonder they were both nominated for the same Academy Award. They *are* these roles. Similarly small wonder that the film itself took home the prize for 1984's Best Picture. It's a moving, enveloping work that doesn't feel half as long as its imposing run time, nor as stiff as its classical origins.