Metro Weekly

‘Tár’ Review: Conductor Unbecoming

Cate Blanchett makes thrilling music portraying a renowned conductor’s precipitous downfall in the arresting 'Tár.'

Cate Blanchett in Tár – Courtesy of Focus Features

Introduced at the height of her powers, the world-renowned composer-conductor who lends Tár (★★★★☆) its brusque title is meticulous in every detail of how she conducts her life. Lydia Tár strives for perfection in her work, her image, and her bespoke suits, and demands the best from her musicians, students, and staff.

But Lydia, portrayed with leonine intensity by Cate Blanchett, has grown increasingly sloppy in one area of her well-tended life. For that, among other offenses, she’ll pay a heavy price in this engrossing drama from Todd Field, last seen directing 2006 Oscar nominee Little Children

Field immerses us in Lydia’s world of directing the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra — rehearsing, composing, nurturing her celebrity — while also tending to her wife Sharon (Nina Hoss) and adopted daughter Petra (Mila Bogojevic). 

As Lydia obsesses over honing her interpretation of Mahler’s 5th Symphony for an upcoming performance, the film hones in on every sound and note she surveys, particularly the unexplained noises keeping her up at night. A storm is approaching. Lydia can feel it and hear it, but can’t stop it. 

She’s developed close personal relationships with several younger female musicians and staff members, including her doting assistant Francesca (Portrait of a Lady on Fire’s fabulous Noémie Merlant). A heated flirtation with an ambitious cellist auditioning for the orchestra, Olga (Sophie Kauer), appears also headed down a forbidden road.

Lydia’s habits have not gone unnoticed, especially in the #MeToo era, and a shocking accusation from a former protégée soon triggers the inevitable reckoning. Of course, Field tracks the slow, then fast, unraveling meticulously. 

Forgoing the procedural structure of say, Bombshell, or some ripped-from-the-headlines exposé, Tár maintains its focus as a character study of an unapologetically powerful queer woman who unknowingly plants herself on a moving walkway to her doom.

Blanchett sustains that focus with a performance utterly alive in how Tár senses the world and moves through it. Playing such a large personality, it’s a big performance, especially as Lydia’s transgressions are brought very publicly to light. But, like the film, Blanchett reveals as much in small grace notes as in her grand, sweeping gestures. 

The direction and editing similarly present Merlant’s intriguing, watchful Francesca, and Hoss’ knowing wife Sharon in graceful movements of tiny gestures and lingering glances. The characters in Tár’s orbit absorb or tolerate her restlessness quietly. Meanwhile, she talks and talks. 

Scenes dive into conversations and introduce characters without much setup, and with appreciable respect for the audience’s intelligence. Though the approach occasionally bogs down in name-dropping gossip and arts organization shop talk, which ring true and add color but not much substance to the story of Lydia’s downfall.

Field adds more substance in many of the details that are kept offscreen, in the questions posed but left unanswered. The accuser who starts the dominoes toppling doesn’t appear, but we learn a great deal about the transactional nature of her relationship with Lydia.

Francesca and Sharon don’t explain exactly what they know of Lydia’s past dalliances and present pursuits, or what they might intend to do about them. They simply act, and frequently the film skips past actions directly to the aftermath and asks the audience to catch up. 

We’re led to ponder others’ motives but privy only to Lydia’s inner perspective, as allegations that she “enticed and groomed” subordinates rain down on her in a way we’ve yet to see affect any powerful woman in public life. 

The film alludes visually and in the dialogue to Lydia’s stance of moving through the world like a man, which it strongly implies is expressed, at its worst, in her predatory, unforgiving, and morally corrupt methods — matched only by the colossal ego to never imagine she’d be held accountable.

Tár is rated R and is playing in theaters nationwide. Visit www.fandango.com.

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