'TÁR' Review: Todd Field’s Grand Return to Filmmaking
Todd Field’s TÁR is nothing short of masterful, with Cate Blanchett delivering the best performance of her career in a spellbinding and emotionally engrossing drama.
I don’t want to use any pretentious words in a review, but since the movie focuses on a conductor, let me just say that Cate Blanchett’s performance as Lydia Tár is held with such maestoso that my eyes were transfixed at her from the moment Todd Field’s TÁR begins. After a brief opening shot, the anticipation starts to become palpable as Field puts his end credits in front of the movie. But as soon as Blanchett appears in a conversation with The New Yorker’s Adam Gopnik (playing himself), the next 158 minutes become some of the most riveting cinema you’ll see all year.
TÁR is equal parts simple, and emotionally complex. Simple, in the sense that its plot is easy to follow. The film chronicles the downfall of Lydia Tár, who is highly lauded by her peers as one of the greatest living composers. After her assistant Francesca Lentini (Noémie Merlant) alerts Lydia of a suicide note by one of her former protégés, with severe allegations implicating the conductor, she embarks on a downward spiral when more allegations start to surface, which results in a rift in her marriage with Sharon Goodnow (Nina Hoss). What’s more, Lydia discovers the talents of Olga Metkina (Sophie Kauer), who becomes her protégé for her first post-pandemic concert, but something is lurking between the two, poised not to end well.
Emotionally complex, in the sense that the film is filled with nothing but scenes that have massive emotional power. Whether it’s intimate restaurant conversations with Eliot Kaplan (Mark Strong) or Andris Davis (played by the always eloquent Julian Glover) or dismantling a student’s “woke” views in front of a whole class at Julliard (she doesn’t explicitly say it like that, but let’s just say she isn’t fond of students who refuse to play Bach, because of their personal identity politics), Blanchett always manages to steal the spotlight away from everyone and give any drawn-out dialogue scene amazing impact. Take the Julliard scene, which is the perfect example of how this film works to amaze. The setup is long, Florian Hoffmeister’s camera never cuts away from Tár’s point of view (it’s an unbroken tracking shot), and the scene naturally weaves itself together from a playful interaction with a student who doesn’t seem to understand his “purpose” at Julliard to semi-dramatic as he says something he likely shouldn’t have in front of a world-renowned conductor who insults him in the most brilliant of passive-aggressive ways.
It’s the kind of dialogue scene we rarely see in American films anymore, and one that demands our patience. If you stick through the entirety of TÁR, with painstakingly long dialogue scenes, implicit exchanges with side characters and a story told in fragments, as opposed to a purely paint-by-numbers plot, you’ll find one of the most fascinating and spellbinding dramas of the year, that may also contain the funniest ending of the year. If you have a penchant for dark, at times terribly depraved humor (I apologize in advance, but I laughed very hard at the film’s impeccable final shot), then you need to go see TÁR immediately. In the beginning, Blanchett infuses her performance with a light, albeit poignant, sense of humor that makes her character the virtuoso she is. Tár isn’t afraid of calling out anyone for who they are, or telling her peers what she plans to do with the orchestra, but she also has secrets of her own that Field slowly unravels inside its 158-minute runtime.
I truly mean this: if you give the film a chance, if you let it establish how she interacts with people: her wife, assistant, adopted daughter, students, colleagues, everything will start to click together when Francesca’s “revelation” jumpstarts the second half. There couldn’t have been a better actor to portray Francesca than Noémie Merlant, especially in a film filled with most of the narrative told implicitly, through the eyes of the actors, rather than in a direct way. Merlant shined in Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire alongside Adèle Haenel, but gives her most layered performance yet as Lydia Tár’s assistant. The way she looks at her in fear during its second act almost rivals Blanchett’s Oscar-worthy tenure, who is genuinely chilling when she gets under someone’s skin. She’s accompanied by other impeccable supporting performers, with Sophie Kauer being another major standout as Olga. The less said about her character, the better, but Lydia’s relationship with her latest protégé is a stark contrast to her marriage with her wife, who is also brilliantly played by Nina Hoss.
The more I talk about TÁR, the more I could dive into spoiler territory, which would rob you of the absolute pleasure to witness absolute cinematic bravura for yourself. Field hasn’t made a movie in over sixteen years, and his return to the big screen is not only welcome, but a grandiose piece of cinema from a real maestro who has been gone for far too long. Let’s hope he makes another project sooner than later.