What do you mean you’ve never heard of Lydia Tár? Come on, you to have to know her. She was a protege of Bernstein. It was she who conducted orchestras in Cleveland, Philadelphia, Chicago, Boston and New York before becoming the director of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. She has a Grammy, an Oscar, a Tony and an Emmy – the royal flush of accolades. It’s true that she happens to be a fictional character, played by Cate Blanchett in Todd Field’s new movie, “Tár,” but that’s a footling detail. This woman is lively, ominously articulated, precisely styled, and overly present. It burns like a cold flame.

When we first meet Lydia, she is about to be interviewed onstage in New York by my colleague Adam Gopnik, who is played convincingly, in an audacious cast, by himself. (It is assumed that Robert Pattinson was unavailable.) Asked about her art, Lydia launches into an impassioned riff about the nature of musical time; Asked about gender, she names several trailblazers who have stepped onto the podium before her, but otherwise seems uninterested in framing her achievement in strictly feminist terms. His trail is his.

Shortly after, in a less brilliant scene, Lydia comes up against identity politics head-on. In a course she gives to future conductors at Juilliard, one of them says, “as a BIPOC pangender person”, not to be “into Bach”, who is very dead and very white and who had the patriarchal nerve to have twenty children. Lydia strikes back. Depending on your taste, you’ll either applaud her stately evisceration of 21st century self-esteem and dogged defense of lofty aesthetic principles, or agree with the student that she’s “a fucking bitch.” But wait. The battle lines between such opposing points of view, Field suggests, may not be as clear cut as all this, and in two hours and forty minutes the war becomes very messy indeed.

Lydia, who calls herself a “U-Haul lesbian,” lives in Berlin with her partner, Sharon (Nina Hoss), concertmaster of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra. In a short film about tenderness, it’s a rare joy to see them dance together on Count Basie. The couple have an adopted daughter, Petra (Mila Bogojevic), who is obviously close to Lydia’s heart. But no this close. The strongest display of parental emotion we witness is not a hug but a funny and scary sequence in which Lydia crosses the schoolyard, confronts a child who is bullying Petra and says to her, mezzo piano, “I gonna get you.” The urge to protect becomes a tabby threat. What Blanchett captures so well in Lydia are the moments when the decision stiffens in ferocity. His virtues, like his formidable gifts, have claws and, like anyone whose professional mission is to take command of others, one cannot help but wonder what will happen to him if, for one reason or another, she loses control of herself.

Here are the reasons. Through email glimpses, chatter, and snippets of dreams, we learn that a young trainee conductor was obsessed with Lydia (or was it the other way around?) and whom Lydia has since attempted to block career. There are hints of a role model – other young women who fell under Lydia’s spell and suffered as a result. His personal assistant, Francesca (Noémie Merlant), is a reserved and devoted soul, who receives few rewards for her devotions; Was she, too, once the object of Lydia’s interest? Rumors abound, a legal deposition is required, and Lydia is spotted and feathered on social media. When she goes to New York, in the company of a Russian cellist, Olga (Sophie Kauer), we see a photo of her, on Twitter, plus the slogan “Fresh meat from TÁR”.

Most of the film takes place in the stronghold of serious classical music, at the highest levels, where the stars take private jets. Your grip, as a viewer, will likely be more secure if you know what free bow means, and who Thomas Beecham was, and what DG and MTT stand for (Deutsche Grammophon and Michael Tilson Thomas, respectively). And for those of us who have never really understood what an assistant conductor does, “Tár” provides the answer, in the old-school form of Sebastian (Allan Corduner). After a rehearsal of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony, which will soon be recorded live, Sebastian presents Lydia with a very specific question about clarinets. Whatever niche you think his job should be, it’s more niche.

Why, then, would I recommend “Tár” to friends who don’t care about Mahler’s marriage, or Glenn Gould’s posture at the piano – wonderfully imitated by Blanchett – or Wilhelm Furtwängler’s relationship with the Nazis, or the one of the other mysteries that arise? Because, strange to say, this film is not really about the music. It’s a question of power. (Similarly, if you skipped 2019’s “Ford v Ferrari” because it was aimed at car geeks, you missed an absorbing dramatization of rivalry and grit.) What Matters , in Sebastian’s case, is not the fact that Lydia disagrees on clarinets, but rather the ruthless manner in which she later pulls him – or, as he puts it, “twists” him. – and cast character assassination as a cadence. Conversely, discover the gleam in her eyes at the sight and sound of Olga, who is not only engaged by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra but also, thanks to the fine machinations of Lydia, quickly obtained the solo part of the Cello Concerto by Elgar. The expression on the face of the first resident cellist, who had every right to expect the concert, is a fitting study in disappointment. Power leaves hope in its wake.

It’s not the first film about a classic conductor to be written, directed and produced by an American filmmaker. “Unfaithfully Yours” (1948) by Preston Sturges also does the trick. Its baton-wielding hero, brilliantly played by Rex Harrison, sported a professional glee that would be anathema to Lydia. (“All I do is wave a little wand a little and the music comes out.”) Yet the tale was Sturges’ most wicked offering, its wacky theme adorned with grace notes of murderous intent. , and a strain of that threat is echoed in “The Tar.” It’s only Field’s third feature film, after ‘In the Bedroom’ (2001) and ‘Little Children’ (2006), and anyone struck by the darkness in those films – by characters led down darker paths than they anticipated – will be ready for the shadow in which Lydia, especially her apartment, often inhabits. Berlin may seem alluring and civilized, with its quiet café life and the enveloping glow of its concert hall, but follow Lydia through a more scuzzier neighborhood and into a basement, in pursuit of Olga, and you enter a dripping underworld, where Lydia bangs her head against stone steps. Throughout history, as you might expect, she has been hyper-aware of noise. Now, frightened, she listens to the crackle of the paws of an invisible dog.

Hounding marks the final movement of the film. (This is the only section that seems rushed. Notice, Lydia scoffs at the urge to stretch Mahler’s Fifth Adagietto to an inordinate length, telling her players to “forget Visconti”, so maybe being just a touch of haste isn’t a bad thing.) how much of an avowed predator she is; how she deserves to be the prey, in her turn, of the gluttons of public indignation; and why, in spite of everything, she should take advantage of our lingering sympathy in a way that a middle-aged man in her position would not: such questions will, no doubt, be aired and challenged in due time. Field is wise enough to reserve judgment. It would be quite wrong, however, to consider “Tár” as a kind of editorial made of flesh. Treat it instead as a symphonic portrait, richly steeped in doom; none of the people on screen, other than Olga headlong, seem content with her lot unless and until she actually makes music – otherwise, as Nietzsche said, life would be a mistake.

In the hands of another actress, the portrait could well have collapsed. “Tár” without Blanchett is no more conceivable than “Born Yesterday” (1950) without Judy Holliday or “Erin Brockovich” (2000) without Julia Roberts. No one else would fit into the frame. We’ve seen Blanchett, in previous roles, be flaky, noble, or villainous, but the wealth of moods and motivations demanded of her here is something else entirely. Lydia’s role is scored for hero, villain, mother, dictator, and shit, and Blanchett responds with pitch-perfect tone. His eyes are like spies, nothing is missing, and his smile is a charmer’s knife. As the conductor is with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, the actress is with the public of the cinema; neither makes the grave mistake of simply wanting to be loved. If there is one gesture of hers in “Tár” that I did not entirely buy, it is the only act of violence – of sacrilege, one might say, because it occurs in the middle of a performance – by which Lydia goes beyond the limits. Not so much blunt as brusque, the act is too melodramatic for the subtle inflections Field applies elsewhere. If you’re committed to evil, as Rex Harrison demonstrated, do it in style.

I have a practical motion to move, stemming from Field’s film. An orchestra, as Lydia points out, is “not a democracy”, but, nevertheless, would it be useful for classical musicians to take the word “maestro” and take it out of circulation? Isn’t the aura that envelops her at the rotten root of Lydia Tár’s story? If you worship a maestro, after all, don’t be surprised if you find yourself a slave to the beat. ♦