The more I get to know Antonio Salieri’s music – studying, conducting and recording his operas – the more I can assess the damage Milos Forman’s movie did to the reputation of the Italian composer, depicted as an evil, jealous, talentless, frustrated old fuddy-duddy in Amadeus. While the young protagonist was the epitome of progress and innovation, the dark rival was conventional and old fashioned. Who could then show the slightest interest in an opera seria by Salieri, especially after that short scene in the film when a ridiculous singer, with feathers on her head, belches out endless coloratura?

My recent recordings of Betulia liberata (1771) by Mozart, released in September, and Armida (1771) by Salieri in January have presented the perfect occasion to reconsider their similarities and differences, their influences, their innovations in their context.

The irony is that the most conservative of the two was undoubtedly young Amadeus. Of course, one can argue that he was a very young man – only 16, but Salieri wasn’t that much older: there was only six years of difference between them.

Armida is now the fifth opera I have recorded, after La grotta di Trofonio (1785), and the trilogy of French operas Les Danaïdes (1784), Les Horaces (1785) and Tarare (1787). What strikes me in all those dramatic works is the theatrical aspect, the invention in form, instrumentation, structure, harmonic language, especially in unexpected modulations.

Salieri is Italian, trained in the pure tradition of his own country but he moved to Vienna when he was only 16 and remained till his death in the Austrian capital. He was then taught by Florian Gassmann and Christoph W Gluck, the most Italian of Viennese composers.

Mozart, as everyone knows, spent his childhood travelling around Europe, meeting all the best musicians and composers of the time, always very curious and respectful of his colleagues. His nature was to absorb as much as he could, making a very personal synthesis of all those influences, probably unknowingly.

Mozart’s dream in 1770 was to compose an opera seria for the Teatro di San Carlo in Naples. His model was the old Jommelli but, if Jomelli’s music sounded ‘old fashioned’ to his ears, Mozart never managed to write anything for Naples anyway. Instead he received a prestigious commission from Milan to compose Mitridate (1770). I recorded this opera for Decca in 1999 with a highly-distinguished cast – Bartoli, Dessay, Sabbatini, Piau, Florez.

Strangely this opera seria stays in the pure Neapolitan tradition, alternating secco recitatives and long flourishes of da capo arias with a few accompagnati (recitatives with orchestral accompaniment). Probably the most powerful moment of the piece is the poison scene in which Aspasia is forced by the tyrant to kill herself – long and contrasted accompagnato with many changes of mood, a ravishing cavatina with Mozart’s divine sense of melody, interrupted by another shorter accompagnato.

A few months later comes La Betulia liberata, presumably never performed at the time, an oratorio on a famous libretto by Metastasio, commissioned as far as we know for Padua. Again, the general structure of the piece is quite conventional, again alternating recitatives and da capo arias with pyrotechnical coloraturas. As in Mitridate, the melodic genius of the Amadeus reaches a peak in the tenor’s aria ‘Pietà signor’ with choral responses. Judith narrates her story herself in a huge captivating accompagnato full of contrasts and ruptures. What really fascinates in Betulia is the mixture of Neapolitan language, the German Sturm und Drang giving a dark and tensed colour to the drama, and Mozart’s own refinement.

Confronted with these early works of our beloved adolescent, Salieri’s Armida doesn’t pale into insignificance at all. Salieri doesn’t open his piece with the usual Italian sinfonia (allegro-adagio-allegro) but with a descriptive pantomime in which the warrior penetrates Armida’s island. Opening on the gloomy, frightening shores of the island, then comes the roaring of the monsters guarding Armida’s domain, then the panic of the soldier running in a very effective accelerando. When the calm returns, our warrior has arrived on the enchanted island, surrounded by the most charming, attractive nature. Instead of adopting the conventional alternating recitative/aria, Salieri prefers the form of Gluck’s reformed opera, opening with a chorus with dance. Then the entanglement of secco recitatives, accompagnati, short arias, ensembles, dances and choruses creates a dazzling mosaic of atmospheres, moods and theatrical effects.

Of course, the magic of Armida allows choruses of monsters and psychedelic moments, where trombones help (following the example of his mentor Gluck) to create thrilling drama, contrasting with Arcadian choruses of nymphs. What strikes me most is the way the composer succeeds in fluidity, passing easily from secco, to accompagnato, to aria, to chorus or dance, creating an effect of zooming in for a close-up or zooming out to carry the dramatic storyline.

The number of protagonists is also reduced to four: Ubaldo the warrior, Rinaldo’s companion provokes the ‘catastrophe’. Rinaldo passes from loving state to conflict, moving to his final painful decision. Armida is mostly insecure, worrying, evolving to despair, rage and frustration. Ismene has the paler role of defender of the established rules, forced to be messenger of disastrous events, expressing mostly compassion for her mistress. The best musical moments are the ensembles – duets of Act 2, trio and duet of Act 3 – perhaps the most modern and visionary within the opera.

We might have appreciated Mozart’s dialogue between the leading tenor of Betulia and his people sung by the choir. But listen to the beginning of Armida’s Act 3 aria en rondeau, the dialogue between monsters of the chorus and Armida, frustrated by her inability to ward off disaster with her magical powers. We have to admit that Armida is by no means inferior both in effect and in musical content. Its introduction really looks towards Beethoven in 1771!

What a glorious surprise to discover a Salieri certainly not lacking in ideas, modernity or genius – it couldn’t be further from the image portrayed by Milos Forman.

Salieri’s Armida and Mozart’s Betulia Liberata performed by Les Talens Lyriques are available on Aparte.

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