Tár: The Messy and Complex World of Music, Power, and Cancel Culture
There’s no glory for a robot. That line really stood out to me after finishing Todd Field's film Tár, starring Kate Blanchett in the titular role. Field's first film in sixteen years is a vivid character study with a lot of thematic resonance with what’s going on in the world today. Fields wrote the film during the pandemic, and his dedication to authentically capturing the aesthetic, sound, and feeling of the classical music world shines through in his attention to detail and getting the world right.
Many films fail to portray the process of performing live music opting to just not show their hands, but Field uses real musicians as actors and orchestras to turn the film into something truthful that brings it to a new level. When you’re working with musicians or creating music with a group of people, you're communicating and painting on top of time until something new and unpredictable blossoms. How you get there is the most interesting part and the film understands that.
The film opens with a shot of a conversation between the prodigious cellist Olga, and her Instagram live feed. On the other side, someone asks if Lydia Tár even has a conscience. The rest of the film explores the character and even portrays her as sympathetic before the full story has been presented to the audience. Tár is as much about the process of composing, listening, practicing, rehearsing, and straying away from your own creative alignment as it is about power and the cancellation of an influential artist. Lydia Tár is a genius conductor and a queenmaker who exists at the top of the classical music world. Lydia lives with Sharon (Nina Hoss), the Philharmonic’s first violinist, and their young daughter, Petra (Mila Bogojevic). She is described as “one of the most influential composers of our time.” Blanchett is incredible as Lydia Tár and her performance is thoughtful and nuanced. The fact that she learned to compose, play the piano, and conducted the concept album used for the score is impressive in and of itself.
Lydia Tár teeters on the edge of insanity and genius. It's only when she refuses to acknowledge the repercussions of her actions that we as an audience start to see the cracks in her armor. By rejecting her role in a tragedy, she begins to lose herself and her actions start to feel mechanical. As a conductor, her job is to control time and react to change, but she’s not controlling time. She can’t stop it from moving forward. Tár is an incredibly gifted composer, but she is also a predator who uses her status and authority to manipulate women under her supervision.
The film's message that power corrupts whoever has it, regardless of identity, is delivered through a powerful scene set in Julliard. According to Field, the impetus for the scene was the question of what advice would you tell your younger self. The scene is a test of patience between the old and the new, but Tár loses patience first and loses her temper, essentially ending the internal conversation with her younger self.
I think Field is also making commentary on how mechanical the world can feel after the pandemic. With people spending more time at home and less time interacting with others in person, social connections have become more difficult to maintain. The general sense of uncertainty and anxiety surrounding the pandemic can lead to a feeling that the world is operating on autopilot. That is what philosophically Lydia Tár is pushing against. She rejects the robotic influence that pervades all aspects of culture due to the proliferation of social media.
Overall, the film doesn't shy away from the complexities and messiness of these relationships, and it is all the more powerful for it. It's suspenseful and pulls you into a prestigious world often gatekept from public scrutiny. Blanchett's performance is a standout, and the attention to detail in the music and the setting make the film a thought-provoking watch. I can’t wait to see what Field does next.
