Blanchett Fierce But ‘Tar’ Disturbing and Discordant Melodrama

Blanchett Fierce But ‘Tar’ Disturbing and Discordant Melodrama

By Lynn Venhaus
It is easy to be dazzled by Cate Blanchett’s virtuoso performance as a brilliant maestro whose rise in the cutthroat world of classical music will be thwarted by a spectacular fall from grace.

But overall, the excruciatingly bloated melodrama “Tar” is a pretentious exercise.

Set in the international world of classical music, the film centers on Lydia Tár, widely considered one of the greatest living composer-conductors and first-ever female music director of a major German orchestra. But just as her professional career is soaring, her personal life is going to crash, and she is in danger of getting burned.

As played by the two-time Oscar winner, the unsympathetic Lydia is at once brilliant and brittle. Haughty and vain, her carefully cultivated image is going to take big hits in the age of social media outrage and swift cancel culture, for –spoiler alert – she’s a sexual predator.

Cavalierly, she wields power over the vulnerable women she grooms while they curry favor with her. But she doesn’t attend to the messiness that will expose her true nature, and this fatal flaw, for being arrogant enough to think she is untouchable, will be her downfall.

Yet, there is no redemption and little accountability. We’re not going there, but where we’re going is a rather muddled and bumpy journey where we’re kept at arm’s length.

However, Blanchett is fierce as the formidable composer and conductor. She conducts with a ferocity, plays piano nimbly, and speaks several languages. She is on screen nearly the whole 2-hour, 38-minute runtime (which feels like 6 hours), and she’s a thoroughly unlikable character.

The acting is uniformly first-class, as are the production elements moving us between her homes, the concert hall, and the streets of Berlin, New York, and Thailand. Florian Hoffmeister’s cinematography captures the moodiness, the bleak gray skies, and growing unease as well as the upper echelon in the arts and the associated lofty lifestyles that production designer Marco Bittner Rosser has conveyed so well.

The main frustration here is that writer-director Todd Field has decided to concentrate on repetitive minutiae with a backdrop of mundane everyday life details, which drags the story.

At home, she lives with her wife Sharon, the Philharmonic’s concertmaster (an outstanding Nina Hoss), and their daughter Petra (Mila Bogojevic), but she also keeps another place.

And not only is the film’s pacing uneven, but Field is stingy with answers while questions keep proliferating. By the time it’s over – sweet relief (and some of the movie seems in real time) — there are baffling loose ends that prevent it from being a satisfying experience.

That seems indulgent, and a lengthy opening lecture with the New Yorker’s Adam Gopnik and a master class at Juilliard are in desperate need of editor Monika Willi (wait – there is an editor listed in the credits?).

Field, a three-time Oscar nominee who hasn’t made a film in 16 years, isn’t clear about his feelings for the protagonist, or how he wants us to feel. Normalizing her would be a mistake, for she’s a monster. Nor is she deserving of a pity party. Her undoing is entirely her own fault.

For those of you playing at home, do we want to watch a prickly personality pontificate for several hours?

Time and time again, life shows us that you can only run so far before fate catches up with you. What should happen – a comeuppance, criminal charges, civil lawsuit, apology?

That is not where Field is headed. Nor is he compelled to flesh out the vague backstory of Krista (Sylvia Flote), a supposedly ‘unstable’ protégé who committed suicide.

As a fan of Field’s acclaimed “In the Bedroom” (2001) and “Little Children” (2006), this was confounding. But others accept it and have lavished widespread praise. I would hope a second viewing isn’t needed for more insight and clarity.

The music, of course, is gorgeous. Composer Hildur Guðnadóttir, whose work on “Joker” won her an Oscar, may earn another nod with this sleek score. Mahler’s Fifth Symphony, as the chosen piece to record, is sumptuous.

Other noteworthy performances include Noemie Merlant as Tar’s assistant Francesca and Sophie Kauer as the hotshot young cellist.

There is a story, of course, in the intriguing take on male-female power dynamics, and out-of-control actions made worse in the era of cellphones and social media. And suspense does build, if only in fits and starts.

Full of nagging holes, “Tár” is imperfect, and that’s not acceptable, no matter how sophisticated, given the people associated with this project.

It again, if anything, raises the issue about separating the art from the artist, but that opens a dialogue best served in another more succinct movie, as who wants another paradox after this disturbing – and cumbersome — portrait?

“Tar” is a 2022 drama written and directed by Todd Field. It stars Cate Blanchett, Nina Hoss, Mila Bogojevic, Noamie Merlant, Sophie Kauer and Mark Strong. It runs 2 hours, 38 minutes, and is rated R for some language and brief nudity. Locally, it opened in theatres Oct. 21. Lynn’s Grade: C.

Symphony Presents Pleasing Western-Eastern Fusion Featuring Mahler’s ‘Das Lied von der Erde’

Symphony Presents Pleasing Western-Eastern Fusion Featuring Mahler’s ‘Das Lied von der Erde’

By CB Adams

Upon first reviewing the selections for the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra’s second performance of the 2022-23 season, it might have seemed like a concert designed by Debbie Downer.

Two of the pieces, Tōru Takemitsu’s “Night Signal” and Qigang Chen’s “L’Éloignement” (The Distancing), are neither well-known nor necessarily upbeat sounding based on their titles. And the better known Mahler work, “Das Lied von der Erde” (“The Song of the Earth”), is an hour-long cycle of six song movements that explore themes and variations on the shuffling off of this mortal coil, i.e., life and death.

But not all first thoughts are best thoughts.

Stéphane Denève, Music Director, and Erik Finley, development partner and the SLSO’s Vice President and General Manager, chose a more sophisticated and ultimately uplifting curation of pieces chosen to be experienced in person in a concert hall. This concert was designed to be both self-contained and part of the overall arc of the entire season – to experience through music the interconnectedness of the world.

To use a twenty-five-cent word: it was polyphony. To quote the Sherman Brothers’ Disneyland boat ride ditty, “It’s a small world after all.” Either way, Denève and SLSO delivered an exquisite performance from first note to last.

The performance began with the brass section standing in a line behind the strings. This arrangement provided a potent visual clue that Takemitsu’s “Night Signal” was about to emit something out of the ordinary. According to The Guardian, “Takemitsu’s understated and crystalline compositions combine elements of his own Japanese traditions with the western modernism he loved so much.” That modernism included American jazz, elements of which are woven into “Night Signal” like “tsuzure-nishiki,” the Japanese term for polychrome tapestry.

“Night Signal” was unusual in another way. At the three-minute mark, a time when listeners are just getting settled into a piece, it was over. It was brief only in duration. It made a complete, minimalist statement unto itself while serving as a fanfare for the pieces that followed. Roger Kaza, principal horn, and the entire horn section rendered the score with a nimbleness and restraint.

The orchestra then settled into place for Qigang Chen’s “L’Éloignement.”  Chen is a Chinese-born French composer whose credits include symphonies, chamber pieces, film scores and songs, including “You and Me,” the theme song for the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics (he also served as music director). Moving from “Night Signal” to the string-only “L’Éloignement” was a logically smooth transition into the latter’s bustling, cinematic phrases woven with a touching Chinese folk love song.

“Night Signal” and “L’Éloignement” were clearly selected and sequenced because they share a delicate aesthetic melding for western and eastern influences. These influences were pleasing and expanding in the effects. The pieces were expert choices to demonstrate polyphony at its most subtle and worldliness. And Danny Lee, principal cellist, and Beth Guterman, principal violist, proved in their performances why they deserved to sit at the head of their sections. 

Many who attended the Sept. 22 or 23 performances probably came for “Das Lied von der Erde,” described by Leonard Bernstein as Mahler’s “greatest symphony.” Such a listy designation may be debatable, but “The Song of the Earth” is almost universally considered Mahler’s most autobiographical work.

It’s a symphonic cycle of six songs for alto and tenor voices and orchestra. Kelley O’Connor, mezzo-soprano, and Clay Hilley (making his SLSO debut), tenor, were the soloists for these performances.

So, what’s this piece got to do with the intermingling of western and eastern musical influences? The answer is not really sonically. It’s somewhat part academic and definitely part Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. The source material is a bit removed as it was inspired by an anthology of Chinese poems translated into German. This text was further translated into English and projected during the performance. The result was often more Germanic sturm und drang (and drinking), especially during Hilley’s songs.

“’Das Lied von der Erde’” is about loss, grief, memory, disintegration, and, ultimately, transfiguration,” according to Robert Greenberg, a noted historian, composer, pianist and author. And it’s those themes that make a compelling case for including it with the preceding compositions rather than Mahler’s masterful use of eastern pentatonic scales.

Mahler’s “song symphony” is essentially a two-part symphony with six songs that explore the phases of life (songs 1-5) and the transition to death (song 6). O’Connor and Hilley were splendid and powerful in distinctively different ways. They were definitely a study in contrast, with Hilley storming through his songs with operatic passion while O’Connor presented her lyrics with refined, gossamer restraint. This binary approach aligned with – mirrored – the song symphony’s themes of life and death, light and dark, conflict and acceptance.

And it’s that last word – acceptance – that ended the performance so satisfyingly. As O’Connor sang “Der Abschield” (“The Farewell”), her voice led toward the ending that Mahler intended: acceptance of death as well as acceptance of the pairing of these compositions into a cohesive experience.