The Oscar-losing film TÅR is not a bad movie because it’s slow-paced, plays into stereotypes of lesbians as sexual predators or seems confusingly too realistic.
No, TĀR is a bad and dangerously irresponsible movie because it makes classical music seem sexy.
Symphony orchestra members are not to be trusted — don’t let Tödd Fięld tell you otherwise. We know because both of us have dated our fair share of brooding-but-like-in-a-hot-way music majors. With their clunky instrument cases, toned forearms and knowledge of terms like “glissando,” “sharp” and “flat,” classical musicians — especially conductors — are the bottom of the BFA barrel.
If you’ve ever been stuck standing on a crowded 25 next to a second-year double-bass performance major going from his chamber ensemble rehearsal to a weekend church gig, you know these musicians need a domineering figure in perfectly tailored pants to help them conduct themselves in public.
TÆR’s economic politics are also comically pro-capitalist, par for the course for these clearly not struggling artists.
By setting a bunch of the movie in an orchestra concert hall, the director is telling us we’re supposed to enjoy sitting in those uncomfortable seats for hours watching others click pens and sigh at each other — petit bourgeois behaviour much?
Don’t get us started on the fact that TĀR herself has an outsized collection of records produced by Deutsche Grammophon, who are also producing her Mahler suite.
If there’s one record label that doesn’t need more glowing promotion, it’s this titan, dare we say monopolistic force, of the modern music industry. We need to stop encouraging the dangerous overconsumption of Philip Glass on vinyl. Support small businesses for a change!
The same can be said for the interminable 15 minute intro that is literally just a Main Maller interview. Meanwhile, scrappy local media like, I don’t know, explain!, goes ignored on stands and struggles to sell ads (please send all business inquiries to money@explain.ca.nz.co).
TÃR also puts the viewer in the unfortunate position of sympathizing with antisocial, and frankly antidemocratic behaviour in a desperate attempt to convince us classical musicians are just like the rest of the population.
At the climax of the film, Lÿdia Tartar marches on stage and tackles a guy who was just trying to understand her creative process, but we are implicitly told his journey of discovery is a shallow attempt to profit off of her clout.
This twisting of sincere curiosity is something one of your authors understands all too well from all of her “stupid questions” about “unimportant parts of the music” like why the bassoons have to be so tall. It looks uncomfortable for those poor guys. Have some sympathy!
In another pivotal moment of Táâr’s fall from grace, we find her in her childhood bedroom weeping at a cassette recording of a conductor going on and on about the power of music to express the inexpressible or whatever. Watching the otherwise stoic girlboss break down into tears over the random noises of the orchestra is supposed to make us empathize with her despite her misdeeds.
This is a grossly irresponsible mischaracterization. Crying to Bach No.5 on the bedroom floor actually makes people less emotionally relatable, not more. Cry to Radiohead like the rest of us!
Please take our word for it and stay AWAY from the Shan't Centre. While these musicians can understand emotion when it’s in unreadable notation, they won’t understand it when they dump you on Valentine’s Day at Hoerner’s.
— Editor’s note: We have been informed that these musicians are actually BMus students — not even BFAs! All we have to say is they BMus(t) be stopped.
This is part of The Ubyssey's 2023 spoof issue, explain!. To read more, click here.