TÁR (2022)

Whiplash is the only other film that comes to mind in recent memory that is set in the same world as TÁR, but they are very different from each other. The sensational and accessible qualities are completely stripped away from TÁR, turning it into an esoteric piece of cinema. But one thing that is consistent in both is the unrelenting obsession of an artist.

Lydia Tár, played magnificently by Cate Blanchett, is a tour de force. The world of TÁR revolves around Lydia, and so does the story. What is apparent is that Todd Field, the director, is willing to keep his audience at arm’s length if that means he can share an authentic account of a character belonging to a class-conscious and abstruse community. But if the viewer is willing to take that journey with him, the reward is a rare experience. TÁR is one of the most - if not the most - specific films I’ve seen in quite some time; the other that comes to mind is Masking Threshold. The specificity is not just regarding the world of Western classical music, but also about the psychology and mannerisms of a narcissist who happens to be at the pinnacle of it. Field’s precise, almost clinical direction and his impeccable attention to detail help bring both the world and the character to life.

The film starts with a black screen showcasing the names of the crew members, designed to resemble the seating arrangement of an orchestra. In the background, we hear the poignant singing of Elisa Vargas Fernandez, a member of the Shipibo-Konibo tribe from Peru. This beautifully directed opening credits sequence is a passage into the world of TÁR, orchestrated by the director and his crew, and facilitated by the shamanic singing, like an ayahuasca trip. What follows is a deep character study of a flawed genius whose descent from the zenith is the direct result of her abuse of power.

TÁR, written during the pandemic, is a product of now. Contemporary topics take center stage in this cerebral drama. It poses a fundamental question over which feuds have been fought on the moral battlegrounds of social media: Should art be separated from its artist?

Should we stop listening to College Dropout because Kanye is spewing anti-Semitic vitriol?
Should we not enjoy American Beauty because Kevin Spacey is a child molester?
Should we not laugh at the “Baby” joke anymore if Dave Chappelle is ever canceled?

Should art be rejected based on gender, race, sexuality, or the personal lives of the artists?

We can all guess what Lydia would have to say about that, but what’s intriguing is what Todd Field has to say. I think it’s very interesting the way he handles the film’s conclusion. At first glance, the audience might say, “Yes, that’s what she deserves,” and rejoice in the moment of sweet justice. It might even be hilarious to some. But if you peel off the layers of social construct and try to understand it with an open mind, you’ll come face to face with Lydia - the artist, not the person. And in that moment, you’ll realize that the artist persevered; art persevered. But how you feel about that is completely your prerogative.