Tár, 2022, dir. Todd Field. Heights Theater, Tuesday, November 8.

So Todd Field hasn’t made a movie in 16 years. His prior works were In the Bedroom (2001) and Little Children (2006), two of the worst examples of modern Oscar bait you can find, the latter perhaps the most mean-spirited work I’ve seen since Ruben Östlund decided to poop on modern art museums. Is there anyone who was eagerly awaiting the return of Todd Field? Yes, I’m sick of super hero flicks and yes, I’m tired of tentpole franchise films and yes, I want to have my thoughts provoked. But Tár is just a bad movie. Oh, it’s smart. But it’s not wise, warm, surprising, amusing, funny, or fascinating in any way. And really, if you all you are is smart, that’s actually pretty dumb.

People I trust look at Tár as satire, a genuine satire of the world of classical music. I’m not seeing that, and if it’s satire then I fail to see the point–I mean, attendance is down in orchestras everywhere, it’s not as though conductors wield special power in the world of music (or otherwise), and if you mean to tear down this lofty society of wealthy people, I mean, OK, have at it. If this is the case I think the movie is easily dismissed–it’s never very funny, and, like Östlund’s The Square, it’s a satire of a thing that’s easy to parody, and worse, one its very audience adores. I mean, honestly, Field listens to classical music and reads The New Yorker and so does pretty much everyone who watches this movie, including me. Is the satire meant to comfort, the way Stuff White People Like is truly only enjoyed by white people who hope enjoying Stuff White People Like makes them seem less… white?

But I’m pretty sure Tár isn’t satire, but an examination of this brilliant conductor, Lydia Tár, who is a superhero in her own right, brought down by the kryptonite of cancel culture. In a really long and didactic opening, the New Yorker’s Adam Gopnik reads out a long list of her accomplishments, including the EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony awards.) Lydia was mentored by none other than Leonard Bernstein, and now conducts the Berlin Philharmonic, and, over the course of the movie will be shown to be loving, passionate, sexy, mean, opportunistic, aggressive, predatory, and also enjoying the company of older white dudes who are the same way.

Is she meant to be shown as someone trying hard to fit into this boy’s club by acting worse than the worst of them? I guess. She is unpleasant, but not interestingly so. At one point she threatens a little girl who is regularly kicking her daughter on a playground–when Lydia drops said daughter off, she walks straight to the girl and we know exactly what’s going to happen. I mean, I guess it’s a surprise that the child seems to have been directed to appear bored by the confrontation and not truly nervous, or that what Lydia says isn’t even really cutting. I never would believe that I would wish that a movie I was watching was directed by Darren Aronofsky, but boy, I sure wished for some of his mania, or even Ken Russell’s utter throw-shit-at-a-wall lunacy. Everything in Tár is mannered to the nth degree, but never in any way that’s revealing or fascinating. Worse, despite Cate Blanchett’s masterful performance, her character is dull. Lydia Tár loves Mahler, listens to mediocre jazz when relaxing with her wife over wine, listens to NPR, wears bespoke suits and never breaks from her really trite routine. Every move she makes is nearly predictable, never startling. And damn, her musical tastes! Does Field think that people in this world don’t groove to other music? Like Nigel Kennedy freaking out over Jimi Hendrix or Yo-Yo Ma’s vast interest in American fiddle music, or even, for fuck’s sake, Tár’s mentor Leonard Bernstein’s vast work on Broadway? These artists are and were complex, and more interesting than the conductor portrayed here. Tár won an Oscar–what for? Usually those aren’t awarded to great, highbrow films. Lynch’s collaborator, Angelo Badalamenti doesn’t win Oscars, Jonny Greenwood doesn’t win Oscars (he will when the Academy catches up to him), it’s John Williams and Jerry Goldsmith who walk away with gold for mediocre movies. How about her Emmy? Or her Tony? What would she win a Tony for, if not some Broadway musical that appeals to everyone? Jesus, talk about a PC, cancel culture world, that’s Broadway for sure (and it’s better because of it). Field really drops the ball not illustrating this.

He also seems to loathe cancel culture, as evidenced by many conversations in this film, especially one between Lydia and an old white conducting pal of hers, a man who helped her get into the Philharmonic. Over lunch, he speaks with regret of the firing of two very real conductors who did very real and shitty things in life. Tár’s downfall is ludicrous and unfocused. It’s mostly about her reaction to the suicide of a former mentee with whom she slept, a young woman whom Lydia kept from working elsewhere, and who committed suicide. And, while in New York to discuss her career with The New Yorker (resulting in an article in that rag that whose awful title is “Lydia Tár is the greatest conductor of all time, they say”–has Field actually ever paid attention to that magazine or noticed its always wittier titles?) she also leads a class at Juilliard, where she meets a student named Max. Now Max (played by Zethphan Smith-Gneist, in a thankless role–there’s many of them here), identifies “as a bipoc pangender person.” Of course, he can’t even articulate why he’s at this prestigious school or why a piece of music–that he chose–moves him. He is the worst cancel culture straw person, bumbling, unable to say anything deep, just a punching bag for Lydia’s arguments, which are never very good or convincing. Eventually he storms away, whining. And, of course, he’s a coward, getting back at her later through social media. Those kids! But then, is Lydia totally ignorant of young musicians and what they’re hungering for today? I mean, none of this is new, unless you were frozen in 2008 and just woke up. Everyone who protests Lydia appears as either a young, PC idiot or a backstabbing shill who can’t recognize genius.

Did I mention those students at Juilliard are the only people of color in this film… that is, until Lydia’s final indignity, where she has to–gasp!–go to some third world Asian country and conduct a live orchestra for some stupid cosplay event. Which she would never do, and which might be the only moderately funny moment in this movie. But it’s also a bit repellant. I mean, the only Asians in this film are those in this somewhat steamy, backwards country, a land of crowded streets, where she has to take buses, ride on smoky motorbikes, sleep in a mid-range hotel, and, when she wants a massage, discovers that the massage parlor is actually a house of prostitution, which makes her vomit upon the discovery (but which we figured out the moment it was mentioned to her). By the way, the real Berlin Philharmonic, as with most orchestras (including Minnesota’s), has musicians from Japan, Korea, China, Brazil (to name but four), performers from around the world, including Europeans and Americans who aren’t white. This is important, because Field once again seems to be making a movie celebrating the world of classical music, albeit without any flair on his part, or he’s satirizing it, um, again without good timing or humor, but worst of all, he’s bleached it beyond recognizability. At one point, Lydia is in a car in New York, and drives past a large mural of an Asian woman that reads “We belong here”. Not in this movie. Is Field trying to argue the world of classical music is too white? Well, it is, but then he’s weakening this argument by making it falsely white (Lydia’s daughter in the movie is a person of color, but this is never examined in any way, and she is an uncurious moppet whose character is never fleshed out). The only Asians in this film represent a significant step down in her life. In the world of classical music, that’s insane.

Ultimately, Lydia is a dull cypher, as is everyone else in this ridiculous film. There’s laughably bad moments, most notably Lydia’s tackling of a competitive conductor during a concert, which reminded me of nothing other than Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash, and the final, dopey concert where the perfectionist teacher wants to embarrass his former student drummer, and does so at the expense of the entire concert and all the other musicians (that awful movie is much more interesting and focused than this one). There is all sorts of ham-handed drama, a daughter that serves no purpose except to humanize Lydia (there’s little family chemistry), and not even a single great moment of performance. She’s supposed to be an amazing conductor–I’d actually would have loved to have seen her lead these musicians to a truly stirring performance.

Everyone in this movie, and I mean every damn character (except, perhaps, the children, who are given nothing to do), are outright assholes, though perhaps none as bad as the storyteller, who’s taken the great Cate Blanchett (as with the great Kate Winslet in Little Children) and made her into nothing more than a jerk.