Review of TÁR (2022) by Markhreviews — 11 Nov 2022

It’s been sixteen years since Writer/Director Todd Field’s last film. Clearly, he has had a lot on his mind and he’s spent years bringing those ideas to full maturity.

We’re introduced to Lydia Tár (Cate Blanchett) through an onstage interview with Adam Gopnik of “The New Yorker” (playing himself). It’s clear that Tár has reached the summit of her profession. She’s the first female conductor of a German orchestra, the Berlin Philharmonic. She’s won Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony awards. Her soon-to-be-released autobiography, “Tár on Tár,” is eagerly anticipated. She’s become accustomed to a world filled with private jets and personal assistants.

Early on, it’s apparent this film will chronicle Tár’s fall from these heights. In her own words, Lydia is a “U-Haul lesbian.” She lives with Sharon (Nina Hoss), the first violinist with the Philharmonic and their daughter Petra. Tár is preparing to conduct a live recording of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony (she’s already recorded the other eight). During her sleepless nights, Lydia hears strange noises. She discovers totemic items around her home. She receives a copy of Vita Sackville-West’s book “Challenge” from a former student, a gift she finds so upsetting that she tears it up and throws it into the trash in an airplane lavatory. Olga, a young Russian cellist (played convincingly by actor and professional cellist Sophie Kauer) catches her eye.

The score and the pacing of this film convey an inescapable sense of dread. To Field’s credit, it’s unclear whether we are to bear witness that Tár will be unfairly brought down by others, whether she’s preparing to self-immolate or whether her impending doom will be richly deserved.

The casting here is excellent. In the title role, Blanchett is a force of nature. In fact, she’s so compelling that it’s difficult to imagine another actor, even one of similar stature, equally capable of fully inhabiting this role. Nina Hoss communicates a sympathetic world-weariness. Kauer attacks her role with the same ferocity she shows when soloing on cello in a key scene.

Two factors make this film memorable. First, it’s extremely dense. In Field’s narrative, there are feints, misdirection and obscure references that I could not absorb fully during a single viewing. To the film’s credit, I’m tempted to go see it again.

Second, Field is scrupulous in his detachment from the primary subject. Most movies are filmed in a way that creates sympathy and support for the primary character. Some films go against type by creating an anti-hero. “Tár” is distinctive, perhaps unique, in the consistency of its dispassion. There’s no idolatry when chronicling Lydia’s professional accomplishments (Blanchett is utterly compelling as a genius easily lost in her work). And when things begin to deteriorate, Field never considers looking away or summoning unearned compassion.

Even with its obscure references and emotional distance, “Tár” is an experience that’s gotten under my skin. Field’s film suggests that, as humans, we are always at war with ourselves: creativity straining against self-absorption, a sense of humanity warring with the belief that relationships are measured only by their return on investment.