TÁR

Directing: A
Acting: A
Writing: A-
Cinematography: A-
Editing: B+

Tár is the opposite of populist entertainment, by many accounts a film that succeeds at being a satirical work of staggering genius by being up its own ass about being a satirical work of staggering genius. The way I see it, this film is pretentious about its own commentary on pretension. But, that doesn’t necessarily make it any less genius.

If you wanted to hold a cinema version of a book club, Tár would be a perfect choice for watching and then discussing. Writer-producer-director Todd Field is practically begging us all to intellectualize arguments about it. This is less surprising when you consider his previous (and only other) to films: In the Bedroom in 2001, and Little Children in 2006. Both those other films were excellent in surprising and different ways, as is Tár. Field was 37 upon the first film’s release; 42 upon the second; he’s 58 now. This is a guy who takes his time, and with each film it’s clear that the time is taken to make his art even more polished than the last.

Is he also more self-indulgent? Perhaps. Tár is two hours and 38 minutes long, and I am not convinced it needs to be, every single scene clearly done with intention notwithstanding. Moments after the film opens, we get the first of several very long scenes, this one an interview with our title character, Lydia Tár, onstage in front of an audience, all of her answers to questions about classical music—and her contextualized place in the history of women in it—systematically lay out her slightly emotionally detached, artistic genius. One could argue this scene going on for half as long would have been just as effective.

I can tell you this much: Tár is perhaps the most highly critically acclaimed film of the year thus far, and yet it is among the least immediately compelling, narratively speaking. This may be different for, say, viewers with an education in classical music, who will know all the references of the industry and the art. (I would be very interested in such people’s take on the film and the authenticity of its portrayals, particularly in the details.) Tár almost seems to be daring us to stick it out, the aforementioned extended scene being preceded by countless opening title cards that double as extensive credits, representing maybe two thirds of what would normally have been end credits. I did a rare thing and stayed through the end credits, just to see how brief they would be as a result. Indeed they did not last long—not that that would be much comfort knowing they follow nearly three hours of time in the theater.

Which is to say, the average movie-goer is not likely to have much patience for this film. It’s too bad, because Field very much rewards any patience here. On the other hand, my expectations of Cate Blanchett as the current front-runner for the Academy Award for Best Actress are very much tempered now that I have seen the movie. Not because her performance is not extraordinary (it is), or because the film is any less than excellent (it’s not)—but because of shifts in recent years’ trends among the Oscar voting body. I’m not convinced they will award a third Oscar just yet to a woman who still has many years of a career ahead of her, for a role in a film that will be a challenge for many to sit all the way through.

In spite of all that, let’s assume that you, dear reader—especially if you are still reading thus far—have real interest, some intellectual curiosity, in Tár. For you, this movie indeed comes highly recommended. Probably unlike many other critics, I am not yet convinced that it will be among my ten favorite films of the year, but it probably would if I had to make the choices right now. This film is an odd experience, as it’s easy to spend much of its time wondering what the fuss is all about, and then it proves hard to shake in the wake of finishing it.

For instance, Tár is largely about the question of separating the art from the artist, and what is arguably a fool’s errand in considering someone’s work without considering their moral standing. Lydia Tár makes it blatantly clear that she feels that who a person is has no relevance to their work—only to wind up proven wrong in her own case. Lydia is a figure who is both subtly and deeply manipulative, something that only gradually becomes clear: I wondered how I would have taken in her as a character had I not known beforehand that (spoiler alert! this has been widely reported anyway) she gets caught up in her own version of a #metoo scandal. Nothing in the earlier scenes indicate that she is headed for any kind of downfall, or even necessarily that her artistic genius has warped her own sense of reality. These things are expertly released with slow precision by Field over the course of the film, like a very slow leak from a faucet.

This is what I keep wondering: Tár plays as though Lydia’s gender, and indeed also her sexuality as a self-described “U-Haul lesbian,” are immaterial—and yet, would the film be even half as compelling if it told the exact same story about a predatory straight man? And this question should stress that the story is told the very same way, with “predatory” in quotes, possibly maybe: we never see anything overt happening. Just subtle manipulations by a revered figure surrounded by yes-people who never dare to contradict her, allowing her get what she wants at the end of the day, every day . . . until she finally doesn’t. And she’s so used to being the oblivious center of all the attention, that it doesn’t take much for her to begin unraveling.

Tár is hardly what anyone would call a “lesbian movie,” even though the main character is one. Even with a couple of blithe references to a history of oppression (against both women and queer people), her lesbianism is portrayed as incidental. One might be tempted to think of that as forward-thinking, except that would be sidestepping what Field is doing with this film. It’s almost as though it’s a brand of satire, but one that is, for lack of a better word . . . stealth.

Does satire even work anymore? This strikes me as a valid question, as our daily reality is ever more absurd in a post-Trump world. The 1976 masterpiece Network worked brilliantly as satire because at the time there was still a shared and unspoken agreement to at least the appearance of decorum. Now, exaggeration does little for us, and instead Todd Field takes us in the opposite direction, toward extreme understatement. It goes deeper than nuance, although Tár also features plenty of that.

And this is what I see as the key difference between Tár and a film like Network: a much smaller audience will watch Tár and “get it.” I barely did, although I do think my understanding and appreciation would be deepened with repeat viewings—an irony not lost on me given the film’s run time. A much smaller audience is likely to see this movie, period, whether they “get it” or not. And yet, I would still say more should see it. I merely understand that it’s an uphill battle, in the era of digital effects blockbusters, nearly all of them featuring basically the same story.

Tár, at least, is absolutely in a class of its own. Blanchett is as well, but we all knew that already; it’s Field’s achievement that needs more attention, as he gets performances nearly as memorable from the others in the large cast around her, particularly Nina Hoss as Lydia’s partner. Tár is being marketed as the Cate Blanchett Show, which it is to a large degree, but ultimately Field’s show, one that is almost too finely polished. This is the kind of film so refined that for many it will translate to “boring.” But, when you go in expecting to be rewarded for your patience, as I did, you won’t be disappointed.

If you look for humor in it, you will find a surprising lot of it.

Overall: A-