Todd Field’s Tár and the Validity of Ambiguity

Image by Focus and Universal Pictures

Cait Blanchett stars in this experimental drama about a fictional conductor in (perhaps not ‘the’ but ‘a’?) Berlin Orchestra. Tár came out late last year and if you’re lucky is still playing in indie threatres near you.

I want to start out by saying that I’m hoping writing this piece will help me decide whether I liked it or what I thought. As it stands, I’m not entirely sure. There are layers that are worth exploring.

Premise

Lydia Tár is presented to us as an arrogant and verbally abusive conductor. She lives with her wife and child, who seem to have a somewhat distant yet loving relationship with her. She’s about to start a new season and a new project, and is looking for students who will accompany her. When she talks to them she seems pushy and judgmental yet encouraging and dedicated.

Atmosphere

The atmosphere in this suspenseful film is anxiety provoking. You never quite know what’s around the corner and what’s about to happen, but the set up is repetitive. She has a regular moment in her life, and then she has an unusual experience in which she speaks to no one about (except when she’s injured). Then she has another unusual moment, rinse repeat. There is a creeping suspense and plenty of room to speculate space in this film about what is or is not happening.

Now, I will say that I that I do suggest people watch it, even as I’m no longer giving out ratings. I think it’s a good film that’s worth indulging. I just don’t know if I loved it the way I wanted to. That said, the bottom half of this post will contain spoilers and some dialogue about it. If you’ve already seen it, feel free to engage with me in the comments about what you think.

My Interpretation of Tár

Tár does and says a lot of things, both explicitly and implicitly. On one hand we have this idea of cancel culture and the premise of say, what would happen if the assumed predator was a successful woman rather than a successful man? What if she was a lesbian, to boot? Where does the line between predator and prey begin and end?

And then there is this puzzling spectre of something that is happening all around her. When she is alone is when it becomes obvious. She’s afraid, she’s frantic, she has no hold on reality. In her day to day life, she presents as someone with control. People listen to her and they pay her to both teach and conduct. She has power. But in her private life her power seems like it’s thinning. It’s as if she is being haunted as well as hunted. In the spaces between her mind, her life, and her career all we know as viewers is that something uncanny is happening. Some writers are interpreting it as a literal ghost. I don’t think it is. I believe this haunting is coming from within her. But why?

In fact we never have evidence that she’s done any of the things she’s accused of. We also see that her video is cut up to show her as a victimizer, when she was mostly being an arrogant asshole. Additionally, we see her lack of empathy. She wants the girl who messages her to go away. She shows no remorse when that girl kills herself, in fact just apathy and impatience. But we still don’t know if she’s a predator. We just know she’s inside of something that is devouring her.

We, as viewers, are dancing in this space, between reality and imagination, the past and the present and between what is factual and isn’t. The space is there to make us question. She both is and isn’t a bad person, because that depends on the precise definition we’re using. She both has and hasn’t done bad things. Has she done this particular bad thing? Does a past dictate the present, necessarily? If she did it in the past, did she do it again?

I don’t have an answer for that. I don’t think the film makers are asking us to decide, either.

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