Mozart! (Mozart, das Musical) traces Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart from prodigy to death, starting at his grave—Constanze and others searching St. Marx—then rewinding to his youth. We see the child playing for courts and salons, the family under Prince-Archbishop Colloredo’s patronage, and a Wolfgang who rebels and leaves his service. Baroness von Waldstätten widens his world toward Vienna. He meets Schikaneder and the Weber family—often staged as grasping, except for Constanze—whom he marries. The show frames Wolfgang as a man of parties and people while Constanze grows isolated. Illness closes in; a veiled messenger commissions the Requiem. As Wolfgang weakens, Amadé—his silent child double, a visible inner genius—has been “writing” with his blood and, at the end, drives the quill into his heart. Mozart dies; Amadé folds into his chest and vanishes.

This isn’t a documentary; from the first graveside image the show declares itself a legend. That lens matters when it smooths people beyond what history allows. Constanze is sainted onstage, yet in life the spending was mutual in elite Vienna, and she later managed his legacy shrewdly. The Webers read as comic opportunists, but were a working musical family (Aloysia a star soprano, Josepha the first Queen of the Night). Colloredo plays tyrant-patron; historically he was chiefly Mozart’s employer in a rigid hierarchy—the famous split was about status and autonomy, not jealousy. Schikaneder appears as a sudden spark, though the collaboration grew gradually and led to The Magic Flute. And Amadé is a metaphor, not microhistory; the veiled Requiem messenger likewise compresses a knotty commission into one fatal shove.

Against that backdrop I expected a familiar score and a sharpened myth, but left wondering how material this strong could feel so undercooked. The trouble began with ensemble blend: entries smeared, chords didn’t seat, climactic lines lay flat. In a score this choral, shaky harmony jars.

Wolfgang wasn’t bad, but the top notes that soar in YouTube clips hit a ceiling. The Weber family numbers were energetic yet unpolished. By contrast Schikaneder (Jung Wonyoung) was tonic—nimble, funny, rhythmically alive. Constanze (Sunmin) sang cleanly, and Colloredo (Gil Byeong-min) was the night’s best singer: centered tone, authority, line. Strangest of all, “Gold von den Sternen” underwhelmed.

The staging had virtues: big elevating steps that shaped scenes, a charming Webers’ carriage, and handsome costumes—not least Wolfgang’s noble red jacket. But good pictures can’t rescue frayed musical fabric.

What puzzled me most was the gap between reputation and reality. The 2020 production drew praise, and surviving clips support that success. The book is sturdy, the score packed with audience-pleasers. Something felt off in early assembly—casting balance, choral prep, or music direction that never cohered—yielding a mediocre evening and visible empty seats. Not because the piece is weak, but because this staging didn’t unlock it.

I can accept the liberties; parable is in the show’s DNA. But parable still needs sound. When ensemble harmony breaks and principal climaxes don’t crest, the myth loses its pulse. I’ll remember Schikaneder’s sparkle, Colloredo’s authority, Sunmin’s clean lines, a few handsome tableaux—and one question that lingers: with material this strong, what went wrong?


Note: The YouTube clips below are from the 2020 production and do not depict the 2023 production reviewed here.