Tár is director Todd Field's third feature-length film — his first in 16 years. That's a long time between realized projects, but if we have to wait another 16 years for a film at Tár's level, I'm more than happy to settle in for the long haul. That's because Tár is, simply put, a masterwork on all fronts.
Field's direction guides us superbly into the world of lauded conductor Lydia Tár (Cate Blanchett), in which accomplished musicians, wealthy music lovers, and doting admirers clamor for her attention. Tár presides over it all with an air of crafted ease. In one of the film's first scenes, she discusses her myriad accomplishments with the New Yorker's Adam Gopnik, touching on her mentor Leonard Bernstein, the works of Gustav Mahler, and the temporality of conducting. Her responses are measured, casual, and seemingly spontaneous. Yet there's a sense of deliberation, of practice. Just before this, we watch as a high-end tailor painstakingly crafts a suit for Tár. It's image curation in real time.
Image is key to Tár, both the movie and the character. As a conductor, Tár has achieved an exceptional level of fame and acclaim. She is the conductor for the Berlin Philharmonic, has earned EGOT status, and is releasing a book titled Tár on Tár. She's also about to embark on the most important recording of her life: a live performance of Mahler's Symphony No. 5.
Throughout, Tár appears to be in total control of her process. She dismisses coworkers she disagrees with, chooses soloists based on her own whims, and selects the concept and pose for her upcoming album cover — even though doing any of this means upsetting those she has worked with for years. The consequences of these actions, as well as some chilling accusations, threaten to derail everything Tár has worked for.
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Cate Blanchett in "Tár"Credit: Focus FeaturesField and Blanchett dissect Tár bit by bit as these accusations come to light. Our clues to her wrongdoings start small, yet ominous: a shot of a redheaded young woman surveying Tár while she's in New York, then hints of frightening e-mails. As the picture becomes clearer, Field moves further into the realm of the surreal. Abstract dreams plague Tár, as do strange occurrences at her home in Berlin. In what feels like a musical spin on Edgar Allan Poe's The Tell-Tale Heart, Tár hears a metronome ticking away in her office, with no one having set it off.
With moments like these, Field moves this psychological drama into the realm of horror, with a scene involving disembodied screams helping with the genre-melding. Like its protagonist, Táris many things all at once: a psychological drama, a foray into horror, a (very) dry comedy, and a relationship drama.
Scenes oscillate between the humorous and the horrifying, but as viewers, you never lose your sense of awe at the level of craft on display. Take a scene in which Tár teaches a conducting class at Juilliard. Shot in what appears to be one long take, the sequence examines Tár as she faces off with Max (Zethphan Smith-Gneist), a pangender and BIPOC student who feels uncomfortable conducting the music of old, white composers like Bach. Tár hounds Max on questions of identity and art. Should she, a self-described "U-Haul lesbian," stop engaging with material by those who would question her identity? No, she argues: "If you want to dance the mask, you must service the composer." Sublimation of the identity is key.
Tár's approach to speaking with Max begins in a somewhat friendly fashion, yet quickly veers toward condescension. Field tracks Blanchett's every move as she prowls around the large, mostly empty classroom, turning a seminar into a pulse-pounding confrontation between two people with a wildly skewed power dynamic. The scene wrings uncomfortable laughs and winces from the viewer and sets up the dichotomy of Tár: She is at once a brilliant artist and a menacing authority figure. How do you reconcile the two? As with the case of composers such as Bach, is it possible to separate the art from the artist? Or must we serve the artist at risk of our own values and identities? Tár thrives on these questions, its steely color palette of cool blues and neutral tones visually evoking the moral gray area in which Tár sees herself acting.
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Cate Blanchett in "Tár"Credit: Focus FeaturesTaking a page from Tár's book to think about sublimating identity and obliterating the self in service of art, we need look no further than Blanchett's own brilliant performance. She wholly embodies both the near-mythic figure of Tár and the uglier truths at the core of the legend. Her work is precise, raw, and impossibly magnetic.
In Tár's New Yorkertalk, she delves into how the conductor dictates the time of a piece. "You cannot start without me. I start the clock," she says. "However, unlike a clock, sometimes my second-hand stops, which means time stops." The same could be said of Blanchett's role: Her every move modulates the rhythm of the film. When she retreats into herself, time slows. When she bursts into fits of rage or fear, the movie itself lets loose all the coiled tension it's been building. To watch Blanchett as Tár is to be mesmerized.
The supporting cast of Tár is also splendid, in particular, Nina Hoss as Tár's wife, Sharon, and Noémie Merlant as Tár's assistant, Francesca. Both excel as women who are clearly devoted to Tár yet are forced to reckon with that relationship as the film nears its breaking point. Tár may be the film's primary focus, but Sharon and Francesca are key players whose actions — and performances — shape Tár in sometimes subtle, sometimes earth-shattering ways.
Blanchett, Field, and Tár's entire cast and crew have created a titan of a movie. It's thorny, it's haunting, and even though it's two and a half hours long, every single moment is a stunningly crafted necessity. Tár is the work of maestros across the board, delivering not only one of the best performances of the year, but also perhaps the best film of the year as well.
Tár was reviewed out of the 60th New York Film Festival; it opens in theaters Oct. 7.
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