What is it about Tár?
2022 has come and gone with no shortage of phenomenal films. Having seen over 50 new releases his year, I feel confident saying none have come as close to being as pitch perfect as Todd Field’s third directorial effort, Tár.
A quick synopsis: this film is set in the overly structured and ego-driven world of classical music and follows famed composer Lydia Tár — the first-female chief conductor of the acclaimed Berliner Philharmoniker (and a career-best performance from Cate Blanchett). But no one, not even Tár, can remain on top forever, and we watch her meticulously crafted world and façade begins to crack due to several self-inflicted wounds all brought about thanks to hubris.
As I reflected on the story, I was struck with a wonderfully unique problem — there was simply too much to write about Tár. Here are just a few of those ideas:
Tár — The Film Stanley Kubrick Could Have Directed
Homosexuality and Whiteness in Tár
Tár –The ‘Cancel Culture’ Film and Why it’s More Than Just That
Tár and Objective Storytelling
How Cate Blanchette Delivers Dialogue
Masculinity through the eyes of a ‘U-Haul Lesbian’ in Tár
The Art of Editing in Tár
The list goes on and on and on. Which brings me to the title and main subject of this piece, what is it about Tár? Why has this film been stuck in my mind over these last several months? What is it that solidified it as my favorite of 2022? And the answer is that it all begins with the screenplay.
Todd Field began the script for Tár with a warning:
“Based on this script’s page count, it would be reasonable to assume that the total running time for TÁR will be well under two hours. However, this will not be a reasonable film. There will be tempo changes, and soundscapes that require more time than is represented on the page, and of course a great deal of music performed on screen. All this to say, if you are mad enough to greenlight this film, be prepared for one whose necessary length represents these practical accommodations.”
I believe this warning offers the best insight into what makes Tár stick. It simply is not a reasonable film. In fact, on the page it almost feels like it could not work. A 158-minute, character-study about a fictional woman’s rise and fall in a world most people are unfamiliar with, that also features lengthy portions in German. Yet it all works.
How? It may seem unusual, but I would argue the film works thanks to one key element: sound.
A film about a composer better have good sound design. But sound comes in a plethora of forms, three of which I’ll touch on here.
First and foremost is music. The music conducted and performed by Tár is powerful, confident, and booming. Performing Mahler’s Fifth Symphony — the only one of Mahler’s nine that had not yet been performed by the Berliner Philharmoniker — is Tár’s magnum opus. Or at least it should be. You don’t need a degree or deep understanding of the world of classical music to appreciate the music of the film and hear its awesome power.
The film’s composer, Hildur Guðnadóttir, is not only named in the script (ironically as part of the very first line of direction, “Hildur Guðnadóttir at full tilt. Horned-voices cut to”) but is integral for the propulsion of the story. Used sparingly throughout the film and interwoven with the booming of Mahler symphony, the score pulls the viewer in and guides them through the highs and lows of Tár’s personal and professional journey.
Unlike many films where music is used to manipulate the audience into feeling a specific way, Guðnadóttir’s score offers a juxtaposition to Mahler’s symphony. While the symphony is loud, the score is quiet, mysterious, and even unsettling as it creeps into your ear and refuses to leave your consciousness. What Tár the character seeks is not in sync with what is presented by the score, so we as an audience are left with a conflicting but intriguing picture. Do we relish in the Mahler or let the Guðnadóttir gnaw at us and leave us with a sense of doubt about Tár herself?
Second is the sound design itself. One of the directors I most associated this film with was Stanley Kubrick, whose use of sound has become a staple in understanding his filmography. Much like the monotone threats of HAL 9000 in 2001: A Space Odyssey or the sound of Danny Torrance’s tricycle racing across the carpets and hardwood of the Overlook Hotel in The Shining, sound itself is deployed in Tár to create a sense of dread and tension, leading to an explosive, cacophonous climax. There’s the sound of someone smacking their head on a slippery step, the whirr of an expensive electric car’s air conditioning, the demented scream of a woman in a forest, and the ominous tick-tock of a metronome.
And lastly, dialogue. It’s how the characters speak, annunciate, articulate, hide behind carefully chosen sentences, or stay in silence to avoid uncomfortable truths. And it’s here that Cate Blanchette soars. I’ve often seen people wonder whether Tár was based on a real person. I believe this is a credit to Blanchett’s remarkable performance. She does not merely speak lines from a script; she always appears to be speaking as a seasoned conductor. Since Tár lives in Germany, she weaves German into her conversations and directions, and speaks with a subtle accent of a non-native speaker. Blanchette knows this character — this person — so well, that she transcends the limits of acting as someone to become someone. This can only be achieved thanks to her precise delivery of the sharp dialogue, itself laced with darkly humorous and wicked moments that will make some squirm hearing it and others nod in approval or even snicker in delight.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that sound in all its forms is referenced and discussed throughout the film. Take this exchange between Tár and her predecessor.
TÁR — Heika is a woman of many opinions. And that voice. The signal-to-noise ratio is unbearable. I’ve had to bolt- hole at my old place in town to get any writing done.
ANDRIS — Schopenhauer measured a person’s intelligence against their sensitivity to noise.
TÁR — Didn’t he also famously throw a woman down a flight of stairs who later sued him?
ANDRIS — Yes, though it’s unclear that this private and personal failing is at all relevant to his work.
With four lines of dialogue, we gain valuable insight into the world in which Tár operates. You as the viewer may disagree with some of the comments exchanged, but you’re compelled to keep watching in anticipation of that crescendo. And what a crescendo the film offers.
So, what is it about Tár? It’s the sound. It draws you in in all its shapes and forms, hypnotizes you even when you don’t believe there is any. What makes Tár unique is it’s not only a film that needs to be seen and given close attention to visually, but demands as much, if not more, concentration audibly.
