Tár

Director: Todd Field
Starring: Cate Blanchett, Noémie Merlant, Nina Hoss, Sophie Kauer, Julian Glover, Allan Corduner, Mark Strong, Sylvia Flote, Adam Gopnik, Mila Bogojevic, Zethphan Smith-Gneist
Running Time: 158 min.
Rating: R

**The Following Review Contains Major Plot Spoilers For Tár **

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

You could call renowned conductor Lydia Tár the Cate Blanchett of her field, or maybe even categorize Blanchett as the Tár of hers. Of course it'll have to be a strictly professional comparison, based entirely on their statuses as the greatest working in their respective fields. And isn't that all we ever have to go on? In his first film since writing and directing Little Children 16 years ago, Todd Field explores that very question, asking whether art can truly be separated from the artist, digging into this embattled title character with all the depth and precision we remember expecting from a filmmaker of his caliber. 

While impossible to know everything that drew Blanchett to the role, it's likely she and Field recognized the creative possibilities in showing that people, even the worst ones, are rarely just one thing. And highly successful, driven geniuses at the top of their craft are often much more complicated than that. Both literally and figuratively, Blanchett makes sure all those notes are hit, giving us a multi-layered examination of a woman who's capable of being likable and engaging, until you dare stick around a little longer. 

Labeling Lydia a monster would sell this nuanced portrayal short, but she's still a self absorbed egomaniac who basks in all the adulation and attention being the best brings. Among her many flaws is a fatal one that leads to complete career implosion, or cancellation, depending upon your perspective. There's good reason to believe the accusations have at least some legal merit, even if we don't really have enough to go on. But Field's not interested in guilt, innocence or "picking a side." It's a character study through and through, enabling viewers to draw their own conclusions based on the available information. And the closer you look, there's a lot to find.

World famous Lydia Tár (Blanchett) is the first female chief conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic, talking up a number of upcoming projects in an interview with The New Yorker's Adam Gopnik, including her live recording of Mahler's 5th Symphony, a new book (Tár on Tár) and the fellowship program she founded. Supported by her highly disciplined personal assistant Francesca (Noémie Merlant), violinist wife Sharon (Nina Hoss) and their young adopted daughter Petra (Mila Bogojevic), she also guest teaches at Julliard, encouraging students to look beyond issues of identity politics and focus on the music. 

When Lydia confides in fellowship manager Eliot Kaplan (Mark Strong) about her plans to replace assistant conductor Sebastian (Allan Corduner), a young Russian cellist Olga (actual cellist Sophie Kauer) arrives on the scene for a blind audition. Immediately attracted to her, Lydia pulls out all the stops to secure the Olga a seat, raising suspicions. This is while emails surface from a former student, Krista Taylor (Sylvia Flote), suggesting she was groomed into a sexual relationship by Lydia, which resulted in her dismissal from the program and a shattered reputation. Haunted by the escalating allegations, Lydia plows forward, but this might be the one situation she can't so easily control. And it very well could destroy her.          

Rather than speculate how or why Lydia would abuse her power, the more pertinent issue becomes...why not? With no one willing to hold her accountable for anything, she can. It's a perk of being a revered musical genius, which isn't to say she got there by accident. That's what makes this so compelling, as Field immerses us in her world for over two and a half hours, giving the potential wrongdoings room to marinate around this seemingly untouchable figure who's reputation will soon come crashing down to Earth.

The now infamous Julliard lecture scene is a microcosm for the entire film, as one of Lydia's students, Max (Zethphan Smith-Gneist), makes it known that as a BIPOC pangender they're no fan of Bach. And is Lydia ever the wrong person to tell that, as they argue before the humiliated student storms out of class. What's so fascinatingly uncomfortable about this episode is that she brings up a completely valid point about the dangers of dismissing art or music on the basis of the personal life of its creator. But in trying to convey that confronting the work head-on can often lead to a greater understanding, she gets lost in the throes of her performative narcissism. 

In taking a reasonable position she's more than entitled to, Lydia confidently owns the room, and while this kid clearly never stood a chance, it sends up the first red flag about her personality and how she handles those who disagree. It's a pattern that repeats itself and in hindsight can be looked at through another lens once those allegations hit. 

It's Lydia's behavior that triggers our doubts, along with what appears to be a predilection for younger women that everyone in her orbit seems fully aware of, especially her sickly wife Sharon, and more quietly concerned assistant Francesca. She shares genuine moments with both, but they know what she's all about, and the lengths she'll go to manipulate the power structure to fit her needs. Even the vulnerable Sebastian, a conductor on the chopping block, knows, and we see how quickly she weaponizes that against him. Lydia's only real, non-transactional connection is with her daughter and  that's overshadowed by a chilly schoolyard encounter with one of her classmates.

There are no accidents in a film this meticulously constructed so Field's decision to have an alleged sexual predator be a gay woman rather than your typical straight white male isn't irrelevant. The decision definitely splits the deck in a way, pushing gender politics aside while also taking pains not to prejudice us either way in regards to her potential guilt. In telling so much of her story without words, he uses music, sounds, gestures and visuals to get inside a certain life and routine, baring witness to a career slowly crumbling, piece by piece. 

Going far enough in depicting the minutiae of her everyday that you'd be forgiven for thinking it's a biopic of a real person, Blanchett believably captures how exalted individuals like this can find ways to constantly compartmentalize their actions. It's long, but there isn't a moment wasted as you're hypnotized by the details and clues, realizing there's a lot more to this than what appears on the surface, with the film even flirting in supernatural thriller territory. And none of this necessarily confirms Lydia's guilt, leaving us to imagine what else could have been found, or even consider it really is the case of a troubled girl targeting her. 

Krista's suicide marks the no point of return, but how it's handled is the film's masterstroke, offering another unique perspective on Lydia that invites extra consideration. More than one thing can be true at once, as coming from very little to scratch and claw her way to the top seems to have defined all her later actions. And while she's relatively dismissive about how being a woman affected this path, it's fair to assume it had an impact.

Field gives us numerous opportunities to figure Lydia out, as if such a maddening puzzle could ever be completely solved. But we get to know the woman so well that it's easy to guess what she had for breakfast yesterday, the type of wine she'll send back in a restaurant, or her Sight and Sound film ballot. Blanchett brilliantly embodies all these contradictions and conundrums, providing good reason to tout this as one of her finest performances, if not most compulsively watchable. And given who we're talking about, that's not small praise.

Lydia physically attacking her replacement for Mahler's 5th is shocking enough, but the killer ending reveal is both pitifully depressing and outright hilarious, leaving little doubt as to the depths she's sunk, while reopening the floodgates for further debate. If conducting the Monster Hunter video game score in an auditorium full of cosplayers is a jarring surprise, it's one contrasted by how seriously she still manages to take the work. 

Considering her enormous ego, this new job should be a fate worse than death, cruel karmic comeuppance on par with that guest conductor role, or more insultingly, a human metronome. But she outwardly treats this humiliation as if it were no different from the Berlin Philharmonic, accessing that childhood love of music we glimpsed when she tearfully watched Bernstein's VHS tapes in her old home. 

Whether she's Linda or Lydia, it hardly matters anymore, as even her estranged brother acknowledges how she never quite figured that out. But seeing her conduct for an audience you could easily picture her mocking, the realization sets in that Lydia's arrogant and determined enough to believe she'll come back from this. And knowing what we do, it's entirely possible she's right.