Le Bien qui fait Mal - Mozart l'Opéra Rock

Ah ha, Gentle Readers, to what depths does the Amateur Historian distain to trwal through to present you the oddest historically related material on youtube?

Here is the stage version of Le Bien qui fait Mal! There are, alas, no clowns, but there are a lot of scantily clad interprative dancers frolicking in front of a chamber orchestra who clearly don't care about what's going on in front of them. Unfortunately one does not see Salieri as he makes his prehistoric cry of rage, but one can see Mozart rocking out in lieu of, you know, actually conducting his music, and, after the song you can see him get hit upside the head by his in-laws, some of whom are dress more accurately than others. The Amateur Historian, for one, would like to know where Constanze Mozart's sleeves went.

Le bien qui fait mal Clip Officiel

Ah ha, Gentle Readers, here is something decidedly more in the spirit of Halloween! Here is another gem carefully mined from Mozart l'Opera Rock, where Salieri once again hears some of Mozart's work and seems to dive straight down into the tormented depths of his id, as represented by interprative dancers. Pay attention at 2:14, where I think the Emperor of Austria wanders in to act as Salieri's very forboding superego and at 2:19 where Salieri is inexplicably molested by a clown and makes his signature dying pterodactyl noise once again.

Mozart l'Opéra Rock: Roll Over Beethoveen, Mozart Needs the Extra Room to Spin

Though the Amateur Historian is very fond of French opera, she must confess herself confused by this latest work adorning the French stage. Mozart l'Opera Rock is, you guessed it, a rock opera about Mozart. The action of the play seems to be loosely based on the play Amadeus. This rock opera is a rich mine of absurdity, but the Amateur Historian would like to pull out this particular gem for her Gentle Readers. In this song, 'L'Assasymphonie', Salieri develops a suicide wish after hearing The Marriage of Figaro and proceeds to sing about it and to try and cut his wrists with a conductor's baton.

The Amateur Historian's favorite moment, however, is the highly symbolic one around 3:40 where Salieri, unable to contain his emotions to mere words or melody, makes a noise like a dying pterodactyl.