TAR

2022's TAR, writer/director Todd Field's first film in sixteen years, announces its unapologetic audaciousness from its first seconds, as we watch the opening credits, which are actually as lengthy as typical closing credits.   We then see the film's subject, a fictional world famous composer and conductor named Lydia Tar grant an extended interview for The New Yorker.  A scene that goes on far longer than expected; one which will undoubtedly make many viewers squirm (for various reasons).  What follows is the downward trajectory of a complicated, difficult, and manipulative artist with a myriad of demons and secrets.  One beautifully realized by Cate Blanchett in perhaps her signature performance thus far. 

Lydia is abrupt and contemptuous with nearly everyone who crosses into her light.  Given her unpleasant demeanor we might expect her to spew the sort of rage demonstrated by Terence Fletcher in WHIPLASH, though her fits are closer to the eternally frustrated, moderately physical manifests where pinched bridges above the nose and bowed heads are more common.  Her words are rarely profane but always stinging, the sort that leave assistants and colleagues with stunned expressions.  Lydia brazenly practices favoritism to certain proteges that inevitably turn toxic.  One former charge commits suicide, leaving behind what will prove to be a damning trail of e-mails.  Another, a promising cellist named Olga (Sophie Kauer), a viable candidate for the Berlin Philharmonic, shows more than professional interest, to the understandable ire of Lydia's wife and principal first violin player, Sharon (Nina Hoss).  

Field provides a blistering character study that mostly avoids emotional set pieces.  This at times makes the film feel as it it never achieves a certain catharsis.  But Lydia, who also suffers nightmares and hyperacusis, likewise never really does.  The approach here is almost clinical, and scenes conclude before we see the terrible fallout of public scandal and private severance.   The film in some ways mimics Lydia's method of dealing with crisis. 

TAR also contains a key scene that addresses what has become a front and center topic of late: "cancel culture". Where an individual, regardless of his or her fame, talents, achievements, intelligence, etc. is dismissed due to some (often unsubstantiated) crime or behavioral flaw.  In other words, an inability to separate the art from the artist.  To me, this has become a real concern and considerable affront to art.  Field gives us another lengthy scene at the Julliard School, where Lydia teaches a course.  A student refuses to study or acknowledge Johan Sebastian Bach because of his alleged promiscuity.  The instructor attempts a delicate and appropriate response, but eventually and probably correctly assumes his knowledge and points of view are shaped by social media.  Of course someone records this exchange on their phone and edits it to make a villain out of Lydia.  

The technological zeitgeist is integral to this film, lending a contemporary air to what is an age old tale. The destruction of a star, much of her own making, but enhanced by a culture that sees and hears and records everything.  An unforgiving mass of smartphone zombies, many of whom adopt liberal thought but share much with those conservative evangelicals who tossed rock albums into bonfires forty years ago.  Or banned books.  Does Field, whose direction is close to flawless (and evoked, at least for me, shades of Mike Nichols), sport a conservative take himself? I felt he just observed, sometimes obliquely documenting the times in which we reside.  Where well connected monsters like Lydia Tarr no longer get away with sexual quid-pro-quo and having colleagues she doesn't like removed.  Some have called her character a female Harvey Weinstein.  Whatever your take, Cate is fantastic.

I liked Florian Hoffmeister's photography, especially the way scenes were lit.  Actually appeared cinematic. 

What disappointed me about TAR was its lack of development regarding the music itself.  It is virtually incidental here.  A late scene that plainly references how music can affect the listener might've been expanded upon earlier for a more satisfying film.  

The final scene, certainly one of the most interesting of 2022, is both savagely hilarious and depressing.