Amadeus on Sky boldly reimagines a story already perfected on screen - miraculously, it works

If any series has had an uphill battle to convince viewers of its worth, it's surely Sky's new drama Amadeus.

Remakes are always put to greater scrutiny in this regard, and while Amadeus isn't technically a remake (it's a new adaptation of the Peter Shaffer 1979 play on which 1984's Amadeus was based), it is being treated as one.

Now, the 1984 film is oft-hailed as a masterpiece, and understandably so. It truly is a stunning work of cinema, and while productions of the play also bring their own baggage, with the likes of Simon Callow, Ian McKellen, Mark Hamill and Michael Sheen having taken on the central roles, most viewers coming to the new Sky series will only have the film in their minds.

I have to admit, I came at it from a different perspective. For my sins, I hadn't seen the Miloš Forman film, and have come to it since. By chance, this has given me two different vantage points from which to view the series - one, as a complete newcomer, and two, with the context of the film with which to compare it.

When I initially watched the series I was impressed, but slightly wary. I was worried that viewing the much-vaunted film after the fact would taint my enjoyment of Sky's series, even in spite of my immediate impression.

However, when I did come to watch the film, something strange happened. While I was of course bowled over by what I saw, it actually managed to increase my approval and admiration for the series. Let me explain...

To provide some crucial context, like Shaffer's play before it, Amadeus tells a fictionalised story, imbued with real-world elements, of a rivalry between Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Antonio Salieri.

Salieri, played here by Paul Bettany, is the court composer in Vienna in 1781, when Mozart travels to the town. The two are vastly different - while Salieri is pious and esteemed, yet brimming with jealously, Mozart is unrefined, crude and boisterous.

However, Salieri soon learns that Mozart's music is sublime, seemingly without the latter even trying to produce it. A bitter personal feud ensues, as Salieri turns his back on God and works tirelessly to destroy Mozart's life, his career, his marriage to Constanze (Gabrielle Creevy) and his reputation.

When a new adaptation of a classic work is produced, people tend to ask "why?". When it's a series being crafted out of a film or play, the answer usually comes that the format simply gives more time to explore facets previously untouched, or to dig deeper into themes that were otherwise skimmed over.

I tend to think this is a pretty weak answer. If a piece of theatre or film is acclaimed in its current form, then perhaps it isn't in need of further additions? For an example, see Wicked being adapted into two films rather than one (although, frankly, on that front the box office receipts and many fans worldwide may tend to disagree with me).

However, in the case of Amadeus, the miraculous happened - that turned out to actually be true. It doesn't mean that the film or the play are now somehow lesser for their exclusions, simply that the series not only justifies its five episode run-time, but also justifies its existence by taking some interesting, new routes.

In story terms, many of the major beats are still here, but some of them are given a greater chance to breathe. For instance, Salieri's declaration of war on God, while powerful in the '84 film, is given even greater due here, in one of the show's most stirring moments and one of Bettany's best pieces of performance.

There are some substantial additions here too, which genuinely do help to flesh out the characters, making them even more rounded and three-dimensional than we've seen them before.

The focus on Mozart and Constanze's home life, and in particular a personal tragedy, is a masterstroke from writer Joe Barton, who digs into the real history behind the story to lend it even greater veracity, humanity and pathos.

In fact, Constanze's entire story has been bulked up here, with the character given greater agency but also more substantial flaws, more internal conflict and a greater external emotional range. Her relationship with Mozart is far less amiable than in the film, with greater animosity between them and a level of complexity that was previously lacking.

It's a shift in character which also carries over as a wider tonal shift within the whole film. Where the film had a lightness to it that gradually descended into darkness, there's a level of additional grit here right from the off, a coarseness, an anger.

One area in which this is evident is in the character of Salieri, who is seen here struggling with an internal battle between his self-asserted piety and his impure urges, resulting in some truly uncomfortable sequences.

It's the sort of thing which could be lewdness for its own sake, but actually just helps to further inform the character, and marks him out as a man troubled by more than just the music.

Meanwhile, Mozart, who in the film is generally pretty likeable, if occasionally unrefined, is often here petulant, moody, narcissistic and spiteful.

It's a drastically different take on the character, but one which pays off, not only in the bitterness of the on-screen rivalry it helps to cultivate, but also particularly as the series grapples with just who he is and what his legacy is, in its closing moments.

These stories are all brought to life by a group of actors at the top of their game, with Sharpe making the role of Mozart his own, Bettany giving a career-best performance, and Creevy in no way being outclassed by either of them, holding her own in every sequence.

It also has a stellar supporting cast, from Jonathan Aris as Mozart's repellant father to Rory Kinnear as the culturally ignorant Emperor - although, admittedly, the latter doesn't exactly feel out of his comfort zone given the two on-screen Prime Ministers he now has under his belt.

Given all of this, you may be led to believe that the series is in every way superior to the film, but in truth that doesn't feel correct.

There are elements that work better, but there are ways in which the film functions more cohesively as a whole, and is impressively streamlined. The musical performances are also somewhat more dramatic, and there's no doubt that the look of the film is richer, more distinctive and more compelling.

The series certainly features some wonderful costuming, sumptuous locations and incredible production design, but like so many series right now it all seems a bit washed out - something that is in direct contrast with the deep wealth of colour and visual splendour in the film.

There's also some ageing-up that's done throughout the series that frankly leaves something to be desired.

In many ways though, the comparison isn't the point. Sure, you could put every element of each up against each other to compare and contrast, and I'm sure some people will.

But what's remarkable here is that Barton and directors Julian Farino and Alice Seabright have managed to craft something which operates as a delightful companion piece to the film. It provides a weighty, thoughtful take on classic material, gorgeous performances, and an all-round enjoyable experience.

The worry is, that it gets lost in the shuffle. A pre-Christmas release seems like a baffling choice, one which could lead to the series getting missed by viewers who would otherwise be drawn to it, but are caught up in festive re-watches, knee-deep in mince pies.

So, here's my plea: this Christmas, give Amadeus a chance. It might not be the most original series you see on TV this year, but it just might be up there with some of the best - a truly miraculous achievement given the mountainous legacy of what came before it.

Amadeus will launch on Sky and NOW on 21st December – sign up for Sky TV here.

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