Movie Review: Tár

“Tár” are a bit of a Rorschach test for the #MeToo era. Either you see a cautionary tale about throwing out the art with the artist. Or you see a pretentious journey through the world of elite art. Or, in the rare third option, you just think Cate Blanchett is hot and wanted to watch her wave a baton around.

Hailed as more irresistible Oscar bait for Blanchett, “Tár is indeed a showcase for her singular talents and screen presence. When she walks into a room as Lydia Tár, she eats up the whole space with her impeccably tailored swagger. This is a story told solely from her character’s perspective, and she makes the most of her monopolization.

Her Tár is the kind of cis white woman institutions love to elevate, a protege of maestro extraordinaire Leonard Bernstein who shows proper reverence to The Greats. Sure, she’s also a “U-Haul lesbian” married to her concertmaster wife with a young child at home. But she’s firmly One Of Us instead of One of Them when it comes to gatekeeping the world of classical music.

The movie takes its sweet (or sour, depending) time getting anywhere near its narrative point. We get a thorough portrait of an EGOT with the world on a string — private jets, bespoke suits, rapt audiences. Then we slowly watch it all unravel as we learn this exquisite specimen of The 1% is actually a female version of the all-too ubiquitous sex pest who seduces young proteges only to torpedo their careers when things go south.

Through the course of the movie you can’t help feeling that director Todd Field, who came out of a 16-year hibernation to make this movie, feels dueling contempt for his subjects. First, he clearly feels some kind of way about so-called “woke” politics and cancel culture, turning a “BIPOC pangender” student who dares criticize Bach into a villain foil for Lydia who holds traditionally exultant views of the classical canon. And second, he may in fact not like his lead character that much given everything he puts her through — particularly the film’s final, schadenfreude-filled frames.

The other thing about “Tár” is it’s way, waywaywayyyy, too long. At over two and a half hours, the movie meanders when it should be razor sharp. The tautness that should make a movie like this snap is lost over 158 minutes. The film’s forays into semi-hallucination and mental mazes are left like breadcrumbs, but they’re too far apart to truly lead us anywhere.

Indeed, the first 20 minutes run like a real-time New Yorker talk between real-world New Yorker writer Adam Gopnik and fictional luminary Lydia Tár. You’ll either be engrossed by the verbose acumen of the intelligentia set, or you’ll be confused why this is starting the movie.

Now, for some of you Cate and her baton will be enough to make this movie worth the price of admission. And it is an occasionally interesting examination of a career in crisis. But “Tár” is more concerned with the process (and heaping scorn on its duel subjects, Lydia and cancel culture) than examining the forces that would make an otherwise “great” woman feel entitled to the sordid spoils of her greatness.

Also, Jesus fuck, this movie is just way too long. And I say that as a person who will happily watch Cate Blanchett just eat chicken wings.

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