Tár, Todd Field’s latest film about a fictional celebrity conductor, opens in the most unconventional way that’s almost like a documentary. In a single long take, Lydia Tár (Cate Blanchett) is on stage to promote her upcoming projects in a sit-down interview with The New Yorker‘s Adam Gopnik, who lists all her prestigious accolades and personal achievements that could go on and on. She’s the first female chief of the Berlin Philharmonic orchestra and a member of the elite EGOT club, something that isn’t easily achieved by someone specializing in classical music. Tár blushes over her own milestones, but clearly loves the praise and the rumble of laughter from the audience.
This Q&A opening is an expository segment that lets everyone know who Lydia Tár is, and just how much of an important figure she is in her chosen vocation. She lives a life of luxury, chauffeured from place to place and travels back and forth from New York and Berlin in private jets, while everyone around her is lucky enough to just bask in her glorious presence. Todd Field has created the perfect set-up for our protagonist – conveying how much control she has of everything in her life – only because he’s getting ready to scatter the seeds of her gradual fall from grace over the course of two-and-a-half hours.
Indeed, Lydia Tár is about to be, for the lack of a better word, “cancelled” just as she is set to conduct a live recording of Gustav Mahler’s 5th Symphony. The fact that she is a woman appears to be some sort of a “gotcha” moment on the surface (yes, women can be abusive too, obviously), but Field adds much nuance to her character study and the topic of identity politics. The film is multifaceted look into the life of a highbrow genius, both the good and bad. In another one-shot lengthy take, Tár takes delight in tearing down a student (played by Zethphan Smith-Gneist) who identifies “as a BIPOC pansexual” for not appreciating Bach’s work, on account of his heavily patriarchal lifestyle. The conversation in this particular scene haunts the rest of the film wherein it asks the age old question of “can one really separate the art from the artist?” Lydia Tár certainly believes so if it’s only for the pursuit of knowledge, but her actions, as we would see as the film goes on, tell otherwise.
As Lydia Tár, Cate Blanchett is intense, intimidating, passionate, and inspiring – all at the same time – in a career-best performance. She’s a walking encyclopedia of classical music knowledge, and watching her put it to use is simply breathtaking. Although she’s mainly celebrated as a conductor, she’s also a teacher, writer, composer, and a selfish boss – her relationships with colleagues and family are seemingly at the service of Tár. Her introverted, efficient assistant Francesca (Noémie Merlant), whom she addresses with indifference, aspires to be a conductor herself, and only sticks around in the hopes of being given the opportunity. Tár’s spouse, Sharon (Nina Hoss), the first-chair violinist in the orchestra, now seems to be reduced to just another one of her staffers. A promising rookie Russian cellist Olga (Sophie Kauer), who Tár takes a liking on, benefits from her grooming to the detriment of the orchestra hierarchy.
Tár is packed with details, whether in the background or dream sequences, that rewards viewers who pay close attention. The film gradually reveals that Lydia Tár groomed her previous apprentice, Krista Taylor, into a sexually transactional relationship (which is happening again with Olga). After it fell apart, Tár attempts to blacklist Krista from the industry altogether, even ordering Francesca to delete any incriminating emails about her. As the details start to become public, Tár’s increasing paranoia about her past catching up starts to creep into her daily life like a ghost, and her life swiftly crumbles. Field manages to depict this slow looming of dread similar to a psychological horror film. Tár’s once elegant modernist home has turned into a loveless, empty space, and the things that’s most important to her, her status and admiration of her peers, are now gone.
Lydia Tár’s “cancellation” is the all the more impactful because Field truly knows her character. The narrative unfolds in such an enigmatic way that after a while you don’t even realize that there’s a story being told here. As complex as the art she creates and admires, Tár is a genuine talent in the classical world, but also a hypocrite and a manipulative abuser. One may appreciate the art, but it definitely changes our own experience with it. Field understands the complicated questions he’s presenting do not have easy answers, and invites viewers to think their place on it. Tár is as much a commentary on the culture in which someone like Lydia Tár was allowed to thrive, as it is on the current mentality on seeking accountability.
Rating:
The Talking Screen 