How do you introduce the formidable Lydia Tár? It’s a grand task. She is after all an EGOT (that's Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony awards, to the layman) winner, a renowned conductor and “one of the most important musical figures of our time.” Elsewhere, she’s labelled a maestro, genius, U-haul lesbian, and a human metronome. In Todd Field’s Tár, however, no words are needed.
Field’s first film in 16 years establishes Lydia (Cate Blanchett) in a sequence of fittings for a bespoke Egon Brandstetter suit, the Berlin brand renowned for its made-to-measure garments. The grey suit jacket and crisp light blue shirt tailoring is an immersive preamble to the highly specific world of the Berlin Philharmonic and Lydia’s character. Furthermore, the sharply edited montage of ironing fabric, selecting collars, and taking measurements proves Oscar-nominated costume designer Bina Daigeler is a silent conductor of Tár.
With sharp lines and needlepoint precision, the dressing of Lydia illustrates the rehearsed, measured and focused curation of her reputation. “When I saw how important [the opening scene] was, I was really surprised,” Daigeler shared. “The amazing thing is that the scene describes the tempo of the music, it comes together so well.” The controlled subtly of Daigeler’s costume design is a thread interwoven into Tár. Lydia’s style originated on Daigeler’s mood board – built on intuition, moods and “the atmosphere of autumn in Berlin” – on which she “discovered all the secrets” of the character. Inspiration arose from museum imagery and graffiti as well as male conductors – namely Herbert von Karajan, a masterful showman and fashionable conductor. The act of imitation is a plot point in Tár: Lydia dresses in the image of her professional predecessors, gravitating toward masculine silhouettes.
Lydia’s wardrobe is dominated by button-downs, from stone blue to blush pink, the colour palette always neutral. No frills or fuss but a utilitarian aesthetic paired with a simple brown leather strap watch. Coordinated by Daigeler but collaborating closely with Blanchett, costume practicality was imperative. “There were a lot of things she needed for her role as a conductor. It had to be very comfortable with movement but also can’t have too much volume,” Daigeler explains. She goes on to note being “supported around the core” was essential, high-waisted structured trousers with tucked-in shirts delivered that reinforcement.
Daigeler shares that garments were allocated into one of three wardrobe sections coinciding with the film’s three acts. Within these categories, the designers and actors could play around with available costumes. The second act, the middle wardrobe section, is perhaps the most peculiar; uncoordinated styling mirrors Lydia losing control of her orchestra, relationships and reputation. “When she realises it’s starting to fall apart, I tried to underline this with her clothes being less put together: the combination of the fabrics is a little bit weird and the suit pants don’t fit as well,” Daigeler says. The once pristine maestro is fraying at the seams and as her life unravels, Lydia’s shirts become untucked and jumpers are now haphazardly thrown over her shoulders. Meanwhile, wool jumpers, silk scarves, and a leather jacket disrupt the once-cohesive textures.
Softer silhouettes replace the once-defined outline of Lydia. Now, she travels in a pitch-black coat with a long lapel that swaddles her. Wearing dark sunglasses, a baseball cap and trainers, she veers into anonymity and is unrecognisable in her casualness. Daigeler and Blanchett’s playfulness with naturally evolving costumes also applied to Nina Hoss’s Sharon, Lydia’s wife and the ensemble’s first violinist. Daigeler remembers: “We had another style prepared but realised when we went into rehearsals it wasn’t right… we needed to make her also more powerful and straightforward.” Yamamoto skirts and blouses with no patterns became Sharon’s outfit of choice, elevating her style to mirror Lydia’s power in her own way.
Each of Tár’s female characters embodies a distinct style that subtly transforms with their cinematic journey. New orchestra cellist Olga (Sophie Kauer) is more youthful and colourful with distinct green-heeled boots. Daigeler reveals: “I tried to make her fun and obviously, she also had to be attractive and a free spirit.” Meanwhile, Francesca (Noémie Merlant), Lydia’s assistant, begins the film matching Lydia’s style. “She’s always travelling with Lydia and at that moment still admires her. It’s easy to copy someone’s style and want to be at the same level,” Daigeler adds, noting Francesca’s aesthetic departure from Lydia reflects their personal withdrawal.
Tár’s women characters conform to and rebel against masculine and feminine silhouettes. Daigeler remarks, noting the rudimentary power of fabric to communicate internal thought, that she conducts her work with a natural subtly: “Not lacking fantasy, but I try not to take attention off the essence of the actor.” That commitment underlying Tár left her surprised that the film’s costume design was even a point of discussion. “I had no idea anyone would look at the costumes. I thought they would disappear,” Daigeler admits. “I never thought someone would look further than her face.”
Tár is out in UK cinemas now.
