Movies: Tar

My first impression of Todd Field's film was that the world of classical music and composition was beyond anything I could ever really grasp. Cate Blanchett playing Lydia Tar, a highly respected and successful orchestra conductor and classical musician, is in intense discussion in front of a large audience talking about classical music, her profession, her genius and general academic banter. All of which seemed a world away from what I could ever hope to comprehend.

I became concerned that I might be overwhelmed watching this film, as if having a doctorate in

music may have been a prerequisite. However, this opening was a crucial means by which to

establish the character we are dealing with. Her relationships and dealings with various people set

the scene before getting to the nitty gritty of the narrative, from flirtatious fans to her personal

assistant, aspiring conductors, students, her partner, her daughter and a school bully. People from all walks of life that have found themselves ingratiated in Lydia’s world of orchestral music and

under the spell of a great, powerful woman.

We are meeting this character at the pinnacle of her career and whether out of respect, self-interested aspiration, love, admiration, or intimidation, Lydia has overpowered others to attain this status. However, we eventually begin to see the decline from this peak, having to decide if it is of her

own doing, or the result of collective vindictiveness by her followers.

We as an audience are certainly bought into her greatness, whether it be recognised by intelligence,

talent, overall admirable life, or the delicious threats hurled at a little girl to stop her picking on Lydia’s daughter.

Soon though, we start to see the unravelling with evidence of power play being used as a weapon.

Her long suffering personal assistant appears permanently drained; miserable, anxious and torn

between sticking it out for the promise of success, or taking the moral route of supporting a former

member of the orchestra that had once been part of an assumed love triangle.

Lydia’s partner and fellow orchestra member, is shown as having medical issues and often

abandoned by Lydia for her work, left alone as primary carer for their daughter. Lydia’s colleagues

are either undermined, or made to feel pushed out, manipulated by her evasiveness when she knows exactly what she is doing.

For potential new, younger, female recruits that catch her eye, she uses her status and power to

elevate and fast track their success and to become potential protegees. Her penchant for finding

fresh objects of desire and throwing aside those she has become bored with, further establish her

propensity for being power hungry.

Soon enough though, with elements of the current consciousness surrounding issues of abuse

feeding into the film, Lydia’s reign begins to crumble around her. Serious allegations are raised,

prompting those previously obedient to have had enough and turn against her. Whether the

rumours are true, we as an audience are as unsure as those around her. Whilst there is certainly

evidence of abuse of power, the film never explicitly lets on how far that abuse really went. Much

like the difficulty of proving such accusations, without definitive evidence, we can only assume.

A telling point towards the end of the film shows Lydia’s visceral response to being presented with a

“fishbowl” of female masseuses to chose from, presumably for the purpose of more than a massage.

Her reaction might suggest either she never took advantage of women this way, or, being so

brazenly presented with the option made her finally aware that what she has done was indeed wrong.

Evidence of Lydia’s self-made success is hinted at when we catch a glimpse of her upbringing and

immediate family. Having been all but banished by her own tribe, she retreats to her old, ordinary

family home, to hide and take comfort in old VHS tapes of conductors and orchestra performances,

over which she presumably fawned as a child. Adorning a humble medal around her neck, likely from small scale, past achievements, she is unceremoniously greeted by her brother, fully bringing her down from her grandeur. He shows no surprise, warmth, or fanfare and complete disinterest in his accomplished, prestigious sibling, who he likely hasn’t seen for a very long time. Slipping in mention of their mother, he alludes to Lydia having seldom visited. Possibly, he was once a victim of Lydia’s narcissistic behaviour and eventually decided it best to avoid her.

Tar is jam packed with character study - how a rise to elite power and admiration for a single human

being can obscure their problematic behaviours. In turn, it also shows how easy it is to make and

break a person, especially in the current climate.