is Real Real

As we watch Tár keep those around her in time, we also become aware of how the director controls us through what he chooses – and chooses not – to show. In this way, the director holds power over us as the audience as just as the conductor holds power over the orchestra. Field’s ability to show rather than tell in his filmmaking suits the dissection of power. Often, what is omitted or obscured from our view is just as important, or even more so, than what is shown on screen. Part of the thrill of watching Tár then is in the details. Notably, Field denies the audience a definitive display of Tár as the abuser. Instead, we are shown a portrait in pieces, lying to her spouse, humiliating a student, threatening a primary school child, gaslighting a colleague, the list goes on. We as the audience are left to make our own conclusions, and as the film progresses, we gradually come to see the other Lydia. We watch as she shifts from public to private, mask on to mask off, the image of Tár the monster materialises, and the image of the self-assured, masterly conductor we first met only sullies further.

This is exemplified in a scene where Tár confronts a child who has been bullying her daughter. In this moment we see Tár on her favourite kind of powertrip – the first step of her silence and control strategy – where blackmailing and gaslighting are the modus operandi of success. I watched, first amused at how pathetic it was for an adult to embark on a vendetta with a child of no more than 7 years, then with horror, realising the significance of this scene as a key to understanding how Tár incites fear to subdue and control those who challenge her, even a child. We all know these people.

It is also worth commenting on how Field diverges from our expectations as the audience. Given the film’s framing as a story about a figure in power who exploits others, the decision to make the main character a lesbian is another choice in service of a story about power. It is not the case that Field is particularly interested in telling a story with queer characters, rather, he seems to be more interested in the levelling effect of same-sex relations. Making Tár female rather than male shifts the audience’s focus from gendered narratives towards another type of film. Field is more interested in understanding how power is wielded by those who hold it, and in Tár’s case, conduct it.

Audiences were often so convinced by the story that many thought the film was a straight biopic. This was to the extent that New York magazine published an article titled ‘No, Lydia Tár Is Not Real’. Such incredulity is indicative of the success of Blanchett’s performance and of Field’s blending of the real and the fictional. While I too felt immersed in the world of Tár, the real staying power of the film is the unsettling thought that whilst Lydia Tár is not real, she represents the very real ways power is orchestrated.

Knowing this, by the end of the film her words from the opening monologue take on a more sinister meaning.