At points following the exposé of Harvey Weinstein and the rise of the Me Too movement, it seemed like someone powerful and/or famous was being exposed for misdeeds every other day. Some of these misdeeds were years old, but others happened even after it became apparent that a reckoning was happening and what was once acceptable no longer would be. In these cases, people often looked on in bewilderment, asking what would make someone continue on behaving this way even after the tides has clearly turned? A new film seeks to interrogate the psyche of a privileged, beloved figure and what would make them risk it all for fleeting gratification.
Tár delves into the professional world of classical music, centering on Lydia Tár (Cate Blanchett) who is a pioneering female music director and composer-conductors and first-ever female music director who has led most of the Western world’s major orchestras. Lydia Tár will soon be conducting yet another major symphony that will add to her legend when her assistant Francesca (Noémie Merlant) delivers the news that former protege with whom Lydia had a major falling out has committed suicide. As Lydia deals with shock of her death, she also worries about the role that she may have played in the death and how to ensure that this possibility does not become public. As she juggles this issue, the issue of having to replace an older member of the orchestra and whether to replace him with Francesca, a promising young cellist from Russia named Olga (Sophie Kauer) emerges threatening to distract her from it all, for better or for worse.
Tár is a film that makes its point very methodically, perhaps to a fault at times (more on that later). This slow moving film takes its time not just to let scenes breathe or to give actors the space to fully flesh out their characters and their states of mind, but because the audience is being made to watch a slow motion train wreck; the gradual downfall of a narcissist. This is definitely a film seeking to offer commentary on the times as rich, powerful, and famous people find themselves and their behavior called to the public square to account for their actions and treatment of others, along with the systems that have protected them from experiencing any sort of reckoning, at a rate higher than most of us have ever experienced. Through Lydia’s story, we are shown how these figures arrive at the point where their past deeds catch up to them in both their personal and professional lives.
As an internationally renowned musician, Lydia is revered in classical music circles and even has mainstream recognition as a film score composer and holder of the mythical “EGOT” winning all four major professional entertainment awards, an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony. The awed treatment she receives as a legend in her field has cultivated within a level of ego and hubris that leads to her arrogant and brash mistreatment of others that leads to her eventual fall from grace, a story meant to mirror those we have seen in real life, particularly in the wake of the Me-Too movement. That writer/director Todd Field turned this familiar story on its head with a female protagonist instead of going the obvious route of portraying a man behaving badly helps in making Tár slightly more interesting and elevating its theme and exploration of a person corrupted by power and fame upending their own lives. Lydia believes that her power over others and the influence she wields is enough to shield her from the gathering storm following the suicide of her former underling. Take for instance her decision to deny Francesca an opportunity to advance her career while seeking her assistance in cleaning up her misdeeds, despite Francesca being the one person who knows where the figurative bodies are buried. Such an obvious slight against the one person who can most harm you during a vulnerable time in your life would be an obvious mistake to avoid, but to the likes of Lydia, all people are disposable when you sit atop a throne that you don’t believe you can be removed from. The same can be said of her decision to so obviously take Olga under her wing during the same time period. Lydia’s persistent flaunting of all common sense in service of her ego provides for a raw look at what leads those of her ilk toward ruin.
Field allows the scenes in this film room to breathe, for better and for worse. The film’s opening introduction to Lydia is done through an Inside The Actor’s Studio type of interview that see her laying out some of her stances on the gender dynamics of the classic music scene, its history, etc. It is in this scene where we are first treated to the mesmerizing, transformative nature of Blanchett’s performance and her greatness within in the film immediately becomes apparent. The scene’s length allows you to become lost in what’s transpiring in the scene to the point where it feels like a real talk with a musical virtuoso and not a scene within a fictional film. It is unfortunate that the brilliance of this scene is not matched by others that often feel as if they drone on too long and prolong Tár’s reaching its conclusion. Field includes many lingering establishing shots that set the atmosphere, but wreck the film’s pacing and will leave many in the audience bored and longing for some onscreen engagement.
Despite its major pacing flaw, Blanchett truly elevates this film with her magnificent performance, completely embodying the character of Lydia Tár and all her faults and mistakes. In addition to perfectly encapsulating her selfishness and arrogance, Blanchett deftly portrays her guilty sunconscious, usually shown onscreen through her insomnia and the haunting creaks and noises she hears at night in her home, but can never identify the source of. The noises that keep her up at night are a sort of metaphor for her subconscious guilt eating away at her for how she has treated and destroyed those around her, a sort of modern version of The Tell-Tale Heart. Blanchett is otherworldly in the role and will be hard to beat out this awards season as leading actress.
Tár contains some interesting themes and social commentary, even if it does take probably 30 minutes too long to make its point and conclude. Seeing Lydia Tár’s journey from the top of her profession to where she lands (it’s an abrupt end that shocks) fully encapsulates the flaws of a narcissist. Cate Blanchett’s performance alone makes this worth checking out as she continues to cement her acting legend.
Image: Focus Features
