Tár (Todd Field, 2022)

[DarkImbecile]

Field is debuting “The Foundation” — a new short set in the world of the film and featuring the lead character — at Berlinale

[domino harvey]

Tar Cinematic Universe Phase One off to a strong start

[therewillbeblus]

Tar Cinematic Universe Phase One off to a strong start

But cancel culture hasn't affected many famous people, especially in this medium's club who could use it as an outlet to have their voices heard, so there's really nothing to do with it

[Black Hat]

oy, nothing makes me fall into a coma faster than the words "woke" or "cancel culture"

ford, you're exhibiting a lot of twitter brain, is this what the red scare gals are up to now?

nobody, who isn't terminally online, gives a shit about the likes of James Bennett, Donald Macneil, and elite art world people

all of them are doing just fine, least of all, Junot Diaz

worst comes to worst they'll start a substack or get some twitter files

always funny when someone who claims to care about material conditions spends their time obsessing over all the ways the elites of western liberal democracy have been "wronged"

many such cases

[Altair]

Is Tár the greatest Woody Allen film he never made? He could've made it during his great run in the 1980s, boasting an incredible central character study of a woman under pressure, the aesthetic distance of Interiors, the specificity of elite high culture and its institutions, and often uproariously funny in its satire (I was laughing all the way through the film, which never undermined the emotional intensity of the narrative). It's certainly Todd Field's most virtuosic film, a significant advancement on Little Children even while recalling his last film's refusal to settle for easy answers with damaged, horrendous people (think of Jackie Earle Haley as a child sex offender).

Lydia Tár is an amazing sacred monster, utterly unique. but located within an immediately recognisable cultural sphere, signalled ingeniously by the opening interview with Adam Gopnik. Cate Blanchett captures the iron will and stamina of an elite artist, the non-stop travel, work, and creativity which is expected, a life not so different from a successful banker or lawyer (private jets, multiple beautiful homes, drug dependency). Field is not asking whether Tár's talent justifies her abuse of power (a question critics are eager for the film to be concerned with) and he makes that clear by never showing her actually conducting a public concert. We are never allowed to judge her actual abilities, because Field is interested in the social, institutional, and egotistical structures that arise from such a fêted position as chief conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic. Tár uses her position to continually dominate everyone she doesn't respect (musicians, other conductors, assistants, her wife) and withholds her empathy as a reward for the few who do enter her field of vision as worthy of love and respect: canonical composers like Mahler; Andreas, the former lead conductor (she secretly pays for his chauffeur); and her daughter (although she finds it difficult to connect with her, as she does with everyone in her life). Empathy as a weapon: it's an extraordinarily potent strategy in an environment of relentless competition (for money, status, the endless ladder of career 'next steps') which mistakes ruthlessness for greatness. As a classical music fan, the milieu is particularly apt with the dynamic of conductor and musicians, but it's applicable to many other domains: academia, politics, the arts.

Tár's myopia means she is exactly what she accuses the Julliard students of: a narcissist who does not, cannot, value other people's points of view but thinks that her positionality is by default the right one. By maintaining her perspective throughout the film (except for the very funny and telling cut aways to Francesca, her assistant, sending acerbic texts to her friends about Tár), we see how blind she is, unaware of how she manipulates everyone around her for her own benefit. That she pursues the blissfully unaware Olga even while knowing her former student Krista Taylor has committed suicide after tossing her aside (professionally and probably sexually) shows both that she lacks total self-awareness and how the validating structures of symphony orchestras, foundations, and rote praise make her position seem rock-solid. Until it's not.

Everything Tár mocks or deprecates about other people and musicians, by the end, she has become. Losing her status is the worst thing that could happen to her, because without it, she has nothing left.

Zadie Smith's essay in The New York Review is the best piece of writing I've read on the film so far, situating the film in terms of generational conflict, but I'm not sure Field is so invested in culture war debates so much as the way art can blind us to ourselves, despite vaunted claims to revealing who we 'truly' are. The existential dread that Smith deftly pinpoints which is woven throughout the film points to a sickness within Tár. Despite exhorting conductors to 'Sublimate yourself, your ego, and yes, your identity!', she does precisely the opposite in all areas of her life. The cage she has built for herself means she can no longer feel and when you can no longer feel, you can inflict the most terrible pain on everyone around you and eventually, yourself.

[hearthesilence]

The cage she has built for herself means she can no longer feel and when you can no longer feel, you can inflict the most terrible pain on everyone around you and eventually, yourself.

I haven't seen this discussed as much, but...

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I thought one of the best bits of the film was the part where she hears an alarm of some kind and doesn't know where it's coming from. The way she engages with it though is to hear it in abstract terms and build a composition around it. Of course, we find out that the alarm is actually literally a cry for help from her ailing/dying neighbor.

I bring this up because it seemed like a dark but wry joke on how much she had retreated into her own ego and work. It's kind of the risk a lot of artists face when they get famous - if they withdraw and are less able to engage with humanity, it's a problem when your work is supposed to address people, society, the way we live, etc.

Off tangent, Elvis Costello once asked Bob Dylan about this around 1982, and he regrets not remembering what Dylan said because it was at a party and everyone stopped talked to eavesdrop, which made Costello very self-conscious. Seemed kind of a like a perfect story addressing the struggle Costello was asking about.

[Red Screamer]

This is a good film, easily my favorite of the awards contenders I’ve seen. It’s frustrating to read so many critics avoiding or ineptly misreading what the film actually does. So if you’ll indulge a response-to-responses here that maybe doesn’t say much insightful about this largely straightforward film:

It’s not Kubrickian, unless that means it’s ironic, looks storyboarded, and has markers of high culture. It’s not about separating the art from the artist or creative genius. It’s not even really ambiguous: it elides certain scenes and exposition that most films would include but nothing that happens in it is all that unclear (unless people mean it’s hard to decide if the character does or doesn’t "deserve" what happens to her, which I’m not sure is worth doing anyway). The movie even offers you an explicit clue of how its drama is constructed in its first extended scene when Blanchett says that her interpretation of the piece she’s conducting, Mahler’s 5th, is about seeing Mahler as both aggressor and victim in his marriage. That contradiction is the set-up of the film: a first-person character drama about someone who is caught between mastery and impotence. She is a master of time but helplessly disoriented in space; she appears to have great skill and intuition as a conductor but is totally lost when composing something of her own; she easily manipulates admirers, like her assistant, but is completely powerless against someone who doesn’t buy into the aura of her celebrity, like the virtuosic cellist who follows musicians but not conductors. The satire around this character drama is mostly about the cult of highbrow institutional celebrity and the way minor players hold the major ones up, from fawning yesmen and enablers that turn a blind eye to abuses of power to the fact that, though this is someone who holds herself superior to the people around her in taste and judgment, nearly all of the professional decisions she makes in the film—from personnel changes to piece selection to orchestral balance—are ideas other people gave her that she seemed to resist in the moment.

The one-take Juilliard scene has everyone on the internet wringing their hands about if Blanchett is supposed to be the hero or the villain of that scene (DarkImbecile made good points about the relevant context of the scene right at the start of this thread). But what’s actually interesting about it is how it evolves dramatically. First, she charms the students with her “cool teacher” bluntness and wit; then she’s genuinely arguing with the students and pushing them to answer difficult questions thoughtfully, if with a touch of self-indulgence and aggression; then she becomes cruel and overextends her position of authority, making the argument personal. I haven’t seen any writing on that scene remark on the fact that Blanchett contradicts herself not long after, in a conversation with her mentor, when she brings up the biographical detail of a composer abusing his wife to discredit a quote of his. Or, as I mentioned before, the way she uses Mahler’s personal life to justify her interpretation of his music (maybe insincerely). The movie is too smart to just drop a miniature lecture in the middle like some critics seem to think it does, or at least the movie is smart enough to focus on the drama and character behind the argument more than the argument itself.

Tár is not perfect and somewhat limited. I think the shape of it is a little off and sometimes the mixtures of blunt dialogue with understated plotting and exaggeration with realism can be awkward. But it’s a better film than many of its detractors—and its admirers—have made it out to be.

[soundchaser]

I haven’t seen any writing on that scene remark on the fact that Blanchett contradicts herself not long after, in a conversation with her mentor, when she brings up the biographical detail of a composer abusing his wife to discredit a quote of his. Or, as I mentioned before, the way she uses Mahler’s personal life to justify her interpretation of his music (maybe insincerely). The movie is too smart to just drop a miniature lecture in the middle like some critics seem to think it does, or at least the movie is smart enough to focus on the drama and character behind the argument more than the argument itself.

A.O. Scott mentions it as part of this piece, which is one of my favorite pieces of writing about the film.

[Red Screamer]

Thanks! Good read.

[knives]

I’d be shocked if there’s a film from the Oscar contenders I fall more in love with. Not only is it just built upon a great foundation, but the location it occupies is one I’ve deeply embedded myself for years now. How do you interact with people, not even just artists, whose flaws ring heavy? Ones you love that turn out to be criminals, or maybe even just jerks who you casually know. The film frames this almost as a reverse synecdoche where we are always discussing what to do with the art of cruel artists, but given how limited those discussions are in the film that doesn’t become the main thread. Rather the film seems to be about how others deal with this person who is very admirable in some respects and grotesque in others. She’s lovely and wonderful and cruel and prejudiced. How does one interact with such a person intimately, familiarly, platonically, or even just as a coworker.

The other portion I fell in love with is how Field trusts his audience. At times it was like watching Bergman where the film assumes we can appreciate the complexity of notes being presented and judge them in terms of their perfections and imperfections. This trust seems to extend to his collaborators who all do stellar work. Blanchett in particular succeeds as the film’s centerpiece. I wonder how many seconds don’t feature her? In any case she commands the screen with power and swept me away.

[Walter Kurtz]

I find it interesting that chunks from the Adagietto of Mahler's Fifth feature prominently in Tar... Decision to Leave... and as all cineastes know, Death in Venice. All three of these films have terrific endings. Is it mere coincidence that every single film Kurtz has seen that features the Adagietto has a terrific ending? Or further proof that we live in a sim?

[ntnon]

I find it interesting that chunks from the Adagietto of Mahler's Fifth feature prominently in Tar... Decision to Leave... and as all cineastes know, Death in Venice. All three of these films have terrific endings. Is it mere coincidence that every single film Kurtz has seen that features the Adagietto has a terrific ending? Or further proof that we live in a sim?

Drawing - in part - on the fact that Morrison (et al.)'s Invisibles is inspired by and infused with many earlier, smarter and studious works, and that it talks about the ways in which time is speeding up and the increases in synchronous events (etc., etc.) I feel quietly confident in answering that rhetorical query with the nonswer:
"Either, neither, or - more probably - Both."

[therewillbeblus]

I’d be shocked if there’s a film from the Oscar contenders I fall more in love with. Not only is it just built upon a great foundation, but the location it occupies is one I’ve deeply embedded myself for years now. How do you interact with people, not even just artists, whose flaws ring heavy? Ones you love that turn out to be criminals, or maybe even just jerks who you casually know. The film frames this almost as a reverse synecdoche where we are always discussing what to do with the art of cruel artists, but given how limited those discussions are in the film that doesn’t become the main thread. Rather the film seems to be about how others deal with this person who is very admirable in some respects and grotesque in others. She’s lovely and wonderful and cruel and prejudiced. How does one interact with such a person intimately, familiarly, platonically, or even just as a coworker.

The other portion I fell in love with is how Field trusts his audience. At times it was like watching Bergman where the film assumes we can appreciate the complexity of notes being presented and judge them in terms of their perfections and imperfections. This trust seems to extend to his collaborators who all do stellar work. Blanchett in particular succeeds as the film’s centerpiece. I wonder how many seconds don’t feature her? In any case she commands the screen with power and swept me away.

I’ve been curious to hear your thoughts on this one, and I’m happy at least one of us responded positively to such a tailor-made audacious exercise. This is the exact impression I wanted to come away from the film with, and our similar worldviews in this area really demonstrate for me what a fine tightrope Field is walking, which I suppose is an inherent risk in its approach. Anyways, so far your reading is the most succinct and strongest motivator for me to give this another shot.

[swo17]

Speaking of the dangers of interacting with people who've made art that resonates with you, Funny Pages makes Tár look like a peanut

[yoloswegmaster]

Field is debuting “The Foundation” — a new short set in the world of the film and featuring the lead character — at Berlinale

It will only be shown once in Berlin and will never be shown again after that. This user provides more detail about the short film.

[Cipater]

It's obviously counter-productive to reduce Tár to simply a film about cancel-culture -- it's a rich text, and one that generated a lot of discussion after me and my partner saw it yesterday (it didn't premiere here until this past weekend) -- but I do think its most interesting ideas lie in its handling of that particular, very "current" topic. Like twbb mentions earlier in the thread, I'm convinced the (semi-)distanced and neutral form wants to "put the film in the audience's hands", so to speak: Tár (character and film) essentially works as a reflective surface on which we project our own perspectives on cancellation, etc. This being a controversial concept, I get that Field's choices generate strong disagreements, and I think responses à la those provided by Brody and Taubin are precisely what the film seeks. In a piece I very much enjoyed, Michael Sicinski says it "feels like a throwback to some earlier, less frivolous moment in popular culture", and while I don't think it's a retro-styled film at all (old-timey Universal logo notwithstanding), I get the sense it harkens back to that long-lost era in cinema culture where friendships would be terminated over heated discussions on the politics and aesthetics of The Deer Hunter; ie. an era in which film actually mattered and actually was discussed seriously. (…if such an era ever did exist -- idk, I wasn't born yet.) Is it sensible of Field to deploy these formal devices when tackling this specific issue? Is the ambiguity truly productive, or does it inadvertently endorse Tár's actions? I think the last time we got a mid-to-big budget film that purposefully threw itself out into the open like this was ten years ago with The Wolf of Wall Street.

Now, I don't know if the point I'm about to make has gone undiscussed because I'm completely misinterpreting the film, or if it's because me and my partner's reading is so painfully obvious that there's been no point to bring it up previously in the thread, but after the screening we went back and looked at some key scenes and which led us to conclude that

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it was Francesca, and not some student, who shot and edited the classroom discussion on Bach. Which, consequently, implies that the rift between Tár and her has taken place before the film even begins. The film, as I see it, presents us with a lot of concrete, damning evidence against Tár: she obviously misuses her power, manipulates and/or neglects the people around her, and then asks us to judge the actions we see her perpetrate on-screen as well as to assess the likelihood that the other, alleged off-screen wrongdoings have taken place, and also to ponder the possibility of yet another, perhaps even more significant (to Francesca) wrong-doing that's never explicitly mentioned. The actions depicted of Tár in the film were enough for me to dislike her, but I don't necessarily believe the systemic grooming and sexual abuse of female students mentioned has taken place -- at the very least, I think there's enough ambiguity that one could reasonably question it. (Sharon's obviously hurt in response to Tár's unmistakable affection towards Olga, and I personally doubt Tár -- who's methodical but also hilariously sloppy [cf. the emails] -- would be able to hide multiple such relations from her).

Field presents us with enough information for us to form opinions on both the protagonist and the film, yet so much of it takes place somewhere just outside of its borders.

I think Tár finds incredibly creative ways of making us engage with our own perspective on (post-)#MeToo discussions, and that our opinions on it ultimately reveal more about ourselves than it necessarily does the film or Tár herself. And I think it's one of the rare, contemporary films that only really reveals its true self once you start discussing it and your understanding of it with another person.

(PS. Sorry for a long-winded and perhaps unintelligent post: English is not my mother tongue and I tend to struggle with communicating my thoughts eloquently and concisely.)

[aox]

I think this is the best film I saw this year, and I also chuckled at this story that broke after I viewed it: German ballet director Marco Goecke fired after smearing feces on dance critic’s face

[therewillbeblus]

I'm not ready to walk back all of my criticisms, as this still feels like a film missing something to bolster its themes. However, I liked this a lot more on a rewatch, and I think what helped is lowering expectations on the Big Questions. Yes, it’s asking some and ambiguously commenting on Cancel Culture, mankind's relationship to power, our zeitgeist's social implosion resulting in reinforced narcissism and secrecy, etc.. but in a micro sense, this is a great film about a ‘Live to Work’ success breaking down due to active, fearful neglect of the psyche’s internal drives. The deficits in skills finally bubbling to the surface, demanding to be recognized, makes this one of the best Covid movies, ironically existing in a non-covid world.

But people are ironic contradictions too, and Lydia Tar is no exception. She has a part desperate to connect, but taps further into her conditioned -now instinctual- weapon of power, asserting her dominance (likely a developed symptom of resilience, once we see where she came from and where her mission's been to get to), but distancing herself from everyone she encounters. It’s safe, and delivers expected results.. until it doesn’t; because other people exist outside of you. How awful is that, when your greatest psychological skill of faux-resilience refuses to let us be humbled, into a vulnerable state primed for growth to begin? And how much do your fine motor skills and other tangible talents matter next to that? To you, or the world, and what is the relationship there? Does one even get intrinsic satisfaction anymore, or do we need others to feel good about ourselves? How much should we define the value of our actions, of the right and wrong path, based on others' narratives vs. our own? We need others to gain dimensions to our self, but don't we lose a piece of it when we give up too much power? Isn't it, to some degree, understandable to deny others the privilege of transforming our lives into something reductive and at-odds with how we see ourselves?

I liked reflecting on these questions while watching, and I appreciated the observational distance Field uses to approach them. I don't think it services the macro-stuff quite as much, even if some of these questions do graze it, but I'm also less convinced that he or the film are as interested in them anymore, at least on their own. Rather, they serve as dressing to get at something more human, to inform the experience of a single being, instead of a human serving as a vehicle for those broader heights (To keep going: And who decides what 'degree' to measure against? How can any of us grow as people if we don't acknowledge actions and take responsibility, and yet does our society even encourage that kind of moral development any more? Is it more focused on sterile development of status, something Tar has achieved, and is morality now something determined by a cultural needle that everyone in positions of power are just 'dealing with' - and so should one even care about an outdated criteria for being welcomed into society as a dignified human being? This person loves music! Can't that just be enough to humanize her? I think Field gives that answer away with a shot)

This film reaches the ceiling with its meditation of Type A "Resilience" though, and that this works as a relatable piece for us Type B folks is a testament to its textured process of capturing feelings. From the sublime of both introverted and shared passion, to the pain of self-imposed isolation, to the confusion and fear of your own skewed narrative becoming disrupted by others - these carry a universality despite the very specific subject. It's a refreshing to realize such an ambitious work is actually focused on something much more 'simple', though that doesn't mean its questions are 'easy'.

Also, because I've been quite critical of how the child is used in the film in my previous posts, I should mention that -instead of focusing on Field's editing choices obfuscating the vantage point- I think Lydia's schizophrenic approach to her child is indicative of the internal split she feels -leaning in, likely to provide a better childhood than she had (plus, motherly love, of course) coupled with the fear of parenting, a role too sensitive and dependent on another person outside of her control to jump in with both feet all the time. She needs her space to assert power and restore her ego, as it's been bruised from a very young age and that young 'part' exists underneath all the royal glaze of prestige and stoicism.

I like how Tar's undoing publicly pales next to her undoing internally, which is portrayed through a series of incidents where she finds herself in social situations that are foreign and dislodge the irrigation system she's crafted for a narrow flow in such a full life, unable to respond skillfully. I'd say it's a miracle she managed to pull it off for so long, but not really in a society that praises solitary ambitions (Phi Beta Kappa at Harvard, etc.) - though that's the peripheral commentary in the margins of the film, absolutely informing our schematic interpretation without intruding on the critical elements of the drama. This film is a good reminder that our sense of safety is a ruse, and our resilience permeable; at any given moment the armor we've build for ourselves can be stripped or penetrated.

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Personally, I think this is a very uplifting film - regardless of what her fate is (a reading absolutely distorted by my personal experience in recovery, but one I'd defend). A coercive surrender was the only chance she has/d to grow as a person, and that's the meaning of life. To grow, and to share and receive. But that's how you grow.

[tenia]

About your spoiler :

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does she really grow as a person ? From what it looks, it does feel to me as she doesn't really, and this evolution in her career only is a temporary setback she'll overcome at some point to retrieve her career and try and climb back at the top.

[therewillbeblus]

About your spoiler :

SpoilerShow

does she really grow as a person ? From what it looks, it does feel to me as she doesn't really, and this evolution in her career only is a temporary setback she'll overcome at some point to retrieve her career and try and climb back at the top.

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No, it's unclear, as it is what will 'happen next' - and I also think the end can easily be read as a surrealistic post-suicide exploration of her subconscious. My, admittedly rather perverse point, is that in staying on the wheel of complacency, she may have been safe but not necessarily 'better off', depending on how you define it. If you want to be literal about her losing her stature and experiencing mental health issues as a net-negative, that's anyone's prerogative. But from the outlook that change is necessary to live meaningful lives (or, from a less empathic standpoint - that Tar is going around harming others due to a protective narcissism that won't let her acknowledge her faults), sometimes people need to bottom-out in order to recover and become whole.

What I'm saying is that, I believe, she had to have some kind of breakdown in order to have a chance at both herself and others' lives improving - and if "life-improvement" is philosophically or even practically one's sense of meaning, there you go.

[tenia]

I think I understood/understand your point. I'm just unsure about your conclusion that Tar will change following the events depicted in the movie.

[therewillbeblus]

That is not my conclusion. It's left ambiguous, and I'm saying that the initiation of a crisis was probably necessary for change to occur within someone so psychologically self-protected with narcissistic traits. Like in real life, the outcome will depend on a variety of things we are not privy to

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Since there's no conclusion to the film, I have no conclusion to make. Perhaps the best analogy is an addict's struggle - a person who has become complacent and harmful while in recovery does not need to relapse to initiate change, but some kind of crisis might be necessary to sober them to their behavior. Lydia Tar doesn't need to almost die or anything, but her life needs to crumble a bit for her to have hope to change.

[soundchaser]

I think it's something of a fool's errand to speculate on what happens to Lydia after the film's end, but it's pretty clear that

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at the very least, she comes to some realization about how she's taken advantage of younger musicians. The post-massage vomit is definitely a purgation, though of what specifically it's hard to say.

Whether or not this leads to a marked change, or whether she'll continue her build back to conducting something more prestigious (in her eyes) I suppose depends on how much of an optimist you are.

Is it more focused on sterile development of status, something Tar has achieved, and is morality now something determined by a cultural needle that everyone in positions of power are just 'dealing with' - and so should one even care about an outdated criteria for being welcomed into society as a dignified human being? This person loves music! Can't that just be enough to humanize her? I think Field gives that answer away with a shot)

In particular, I'm curious as to how you think Field gives away this answer. To me, one of the film's strengths is that it DOESN'T solve this question but complicates it significantly. The lecture scene that everyone decided was about cancel culture instead serves to me as the first asking of this question: how much brilliance (and correctness) justifies being an asshole? I don't think Field, unlike Bach, is interested in resolving this particular conundrum. At least, not personally. To the extent that the film is about culture at all, I think it's only as a secondary heuristic through which we can explore Lydia.

In any case, I'm glad you're coming around to this one, twbb. As recent explorations of internal justifications and psychosis go, I think it's unmatched.

[therewillbeblus]

Is it more focused on sterile development of status, something Tar has achieved, and is morality now something determined by a cultural needle that everyone in positions of power are just 'dealing with' - and so should one even care about an outdated criteria for being welcomed into society as a dignified human being? This person loves music! Can't that just be enough to humanize her? I think Field gives that answer away with a shot)

In particular, I'm curious as to how you think Field gives away this answer. To me, one of the film's strengths is that it DOESN'T solve this question but complicates it significantly. The lecture scene that everyone decided was about cancel culture instead serves to me as the first asking of this question: how much brilliance (and correctness) justifies being an asshole? I don't think Field, unlike Bach, is interested in resolving this particular conundrum. At least, not personally. To the extent that the film is about culture at all, I think it's only as a secondary heuristic through which we can explore Lydia.

Yeah, we're mostly saying the same things here (and I didn't quote the first thing you said, because it felt like a more concisely-framed echo of what I was trying to say before! Total agreement) - he gives it away by doing a close-up on her watching the VHS, which does not answer any of those big questions, but does, I think, answer the side that could discount her humanity. The film's greatest strength in its big question seems not to be the classic Cancel Culture dichotomy of "Is this person all bad, or do we shelve it because everyone has dignity and worth" and instead says, "Yes, Lydia Tar has inherent dignity and worth; however, accepting that humanistic position, how do we grabble with defining her personhood and how we engage with her character from there." That's a far more mature, complex, and interesting question. So I think that, by showing that close-up, Field makes a choice (my biggest gripe the first time around was that he seemed to be refusing to make important choices) to say, 'yes, I am making a film about this character after all, so that means they have inherent dignity and worth, but here's a close-up during her breakdown to really signify that we need to engage with her on a deeper level beyond a reductive trigger-based category-assignment.' From there, we can -and should- include any and all factors in - but that's another piece of the puzzle looming over all the action: The world is so goddam overwhelming. Why wouldn't everyone - Lydia included - stick to what they know and resist change, when things are so prickly and alienating and suffocating?

I think he begins with empathizing with her position while simultaneously alienating us from her with clear markers of vanity, and that creates a compelling rhythm. But that empathy does indicate a humanistic position as a baseline. From there, that's when we add layers and reduce some, depending on our engagement with the holistic elements pervading the subject.

[Red Screamer]

This doesn’t discount what you’re saying, but I read the VHS scene as more of a part with the reveals in that section of her origins and how she constructed her maestro persona. The close-up makes us think about her as a kid watching the VHS tape on repeat and giving away that

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she greatly exaggerated, if not invented, her relationship to Bernstein in the opening interview. IIRC, she says something to the effect that he was her mentor, but on top of the fact that we see her blatantly copying him (as she does everyone else in the movie, as I mentioned upthread, calling into question the image of her as a great artist), we realize that he was her mentor, not as an instructor at some conservatory or as a close personal acquaintance, but foremost as a personality on TV, the kind that lonely kids imagine to be their friends. Which is (I assume, I’m no classical music aficionado) a very mainstream, middlebrow entry point to the field, totally normal for what we see of her background, but perhaps a bit shameful to admit once you’ve made it and are among more extravagantly educated peers.

The script is full of great details like this.