TÁR

Written by
Todd Field

NOTICE: This material is the property of Box Hill Films LTD (a

subsidiary of FOCUS FEATURES), and is intended and restricted solely
for studio use by studio personnel. Distribution or disclosure of the
material to unauthorized persons is prohibited. The sale, copying or
reproduction of this material in any form is also prohibited.
Based on this script’s page count, it would be
reasonable to assume that the total running
time for TÁR will be well under two hours.
However, this will not be a reasonable film.
There will be tempo changes, and soundscapes
that require more time than is represented on
the page, and of course a great deal of music
performed on screen. All this to say, if you
are mad enough to greenlight this film, be
prepared for one whose necessary length
represents these practical accommodations.
OVERTURE
Hildur Guðnadóttir at full tilt. Horned-voices cut to
THE TICK-TOCK OF A METRONOME
Punctuating credits filling a single black frame. One after the
other, side-by-side, like players seated on a cramped stage.
OPEN COLD
On a SMARTPHONE displaying the face of LYDIA TÁR (49) asleep
on the calfskin headrest of a G550. Someone tick-tock TEXTING
snide back-and-forth comments about her over the plane wifi.
HER FACE AWAKE NOW
Somewhere else, focused on something in the middle-distance,
her posture and expression as steady as a statue. Eyes
neutral. Almost empty. But this center will not hold. Tick-
tock, tick-tock, tick--the metronome abruptly stops. They
arrive in twos followed by a rest: whisper(s), twice-cracked
knuckles. The once and again hocking of phlegm. Incessant
humming in a duet with someone who cannot whistle. Chewing,
and lip-smacking. Sibilant sounds (S&P, T&CH, K&B). Abused
adverbs and adjectives such as so amazing and crazy. Vocal fry
that culminates in double-upwardy teenagery question marks.
A water bottle being squeezed and crinkled. The rude rustle of
a plastic shopping bag in an otherwise quiet auditorium.
Fingers digging the dregs from a popcorn tub. The jiggle of a
table disturbed by a hyperactive leg. The double-clicking of a
ballpoint pen. The muffled bass of an over-volumed TV coupled
with the goose-stepping stride of someone walking on the floor
above. The particular becomes the general, the noises
described combine into a deafening mix, like a foul orchestra
unsuccessfully attempting to tune. Throughout the above, Tár’s
face a cubist mask of winces and grimaces born of terror that
modulates into unmitigated rage. Someone’s HAND squirts PURELL
into hers, then passes her a GLASS of WATER and PILL in a PAPER
CUP, she barely nods before washing it down. ANGLE ADJUSTS to
see the svelte swaying back of her assistant FRANCESCA LENTINI
(32) depart with the empty glass into the backstage area of
ALICE TULLY HALL, replaced by ADAM GOPNIK who enters the RS
wing and moves to Lydia. Noises diminuendo to ambience.
GOPNIK
Ready for them?
Up with APPLAUSE that swells and ebbs across...
STEINWAY PIANO WHEELS ROLLED ACROSS A FLOOR
Expensive CARPETS ROLLED toward us. LATER Francesca, face
unseen, lugging one of them away on her shoulder.
NOW holding a GIANT STACK OF Deutsche Grammophon LPS, dealing
them out like playing cards, covering the entire floor of a
Charlottenburg apartment.
 —2—

GOPNIK (O.C.)
If you’re here then you know who she
is. One of the most important
musical figures of our era.
BARE FEET break frame, walking over, and across, the faces of
great men. From Walter to Bernstein. Toes pausing. Pushing to
the side this one, then that. Like a game of scrabble, the
toes rearrange, reject, and reorder.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
Lydia Tár is many things: a piano
performance graduate of the Curtis
Institute, a Phi Beta Kappa graduate
of Harvard. And she earned her P.H.D.
in Musicology from the University of
Vienna, specializing in indigenous
music from the Ucayali valley in
Eastern Peru, where she spent five
years amongst the Shipibo-Konibo.
The toes come to rest on the face of Claudio Abbado hunched
over a score resting on the back of a theatre chair. The
impression is that of an honest laborer in honest clothes.
DETAILS OF THE COVER: Abbado’s sport coat draped across an
adjacent chair, right hand using a red pencil to work over a
green baize clothbound score of Mahler’s Symphony No. 5.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
As a conductor Tár began her career
with the Cleveland Orchestra.
THE TOES rise from the floor to make room for the arrival of
someone else’s BARE FOOT, then slowly descend to caress them.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
One of the so-called “Big five” in
the United States... a string of
important posts followed at the...
RED VELVET
Theatre chairs are set down by BURLY FINGERS.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
Philadelphia Orchestra...
BOX-AFTER-BOX OF RED PENCIL BRANDS
Opened and examined by DELICATE FINGERS.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
Chicago Symphony Orchestra...
STACKS OF SCORES
In varied hues of green, each compared to the one previous.
 —3—

GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)

Boston Symphony Orchestra...
MARC STRAUB OF EGON BRANDSTETTER
Takes a phone appointment for Tár, logging it into his book.
FRANCESCA VISITS EGON
The tailor studies the Abbado clothing of the Mahler V DG cover.
GOPNICK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
... and New York Philharmonic.
With the latter she organized the
Highway Ten refugee concerts in
Zaatari -- concerts attended by
over seventy-five thousand people.
THE FULL SOUP-TO-NUTS BESPOKE PROCESS TO REPLICATE THE OUTFIT
Including two fittings that involve Lydia herself.
DELIVERYMEN, guided by a barefoot Francesca, HAND TRUCK in an
enormous full length GILT MIRROR.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
Throughout this period Tár became
known for championing contemporary
composers. Seeking commissions
from the likes of Jennifer Higdon,
Caroline Shaw, Julia Wolfe, and
Hildur Guðnadóttir. Programming their
works alongside composers of the
canon. This created controversy among
some in classical music circles...
The mirror comes to a STOP, and is UNSTRAPPED...
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
... with Tár quoted at the time as saying,
... the frame SECURED to a GIANT EASEL.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
“These composers are having a
conversation...
SOMETIME LATER
Deliverymen gone, Francesca too. Tár alone, on the other side
of the room, seated in a theatre chair facing the mirror.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
... and it may not always be so polite.”
Tilts her head, aping Abbado’s pose as her own self-portrait.
 —4—

UP IN THE FLYS OF ALICE TULLY HALL

A STAGEHAND focuses a LIGHT onto the stage below where Tár &
Gopnick sit opposite each other in conversation.
GOPNIK (CONT'D)
Lydia Tár has also written music
for the stage and screen, and is one
of only fifteen "EGOT"s, meaning
having received at least one of all
of the four major entertainment
awards: an Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar
and a Tony, competitively... just
as an aside those other individuals
include Richard Rodgers, John
Gielgud, Audrey Hepburn, Andrew
Lloyd Webber, and Mel Brooks.
SEAT 140, ROW V — THE BACK OF A REDHEADED WOMAN CENTERED
In frame like a fact throughout this part of the intro.
GOPNIK (CONT'D)
In twenty-ten, with the support of
Eliot Kaplan, she founded the
Accordion Conducting Fellowship
which fosters entrepreneurship and
performance opportunities for female
conductors, allowing them residencies
with orchestras around the world.
IN THE BACK OF THE HALL
Francesca turns her attention to the stage. We STAY on HER
FACE listening to every word. LIPS in PERFECT SYNCH with
Gopnik’s. Robotic and unnerving.
GOPNIK (O.C.) (CONT'D)
In twenty-thirteen Berlin elected
Tár as its principal conductor, in
succession to Andris Davis. She’s
remained there ever since. Like her
mentor Leonard Bernstein, Tár has a
particular affinity with Mahler, whose
nine symphonies she recorded during
her big five stints.
CLOSER TO STAGE NOW
GOPNIK (CONT'D)
However, she never managed to
complete the so-called “cycle” with a
single orchestra. That is until now.
 —5—

ON STAGE WITH GOPNIK & TÁR

GOPNIK (CONT'D)
Under her direction, Berlin has
recorded eight. Saving Symphony
number five for last. Due to the
global pandemic, that performance,
scheduled for last year, had to be
cancelled. This they will remedy
next month with a live recording
that will complete a box set to be
released on Mahler’s birthday by
Deutsche Gramophon. And Tár’s new
book, Tár on Tár, published under
the Nan Talese imprimatur at
Doubleday, will be available here in
the US just before Christmas -- a
great stocking-stuffer if you have a
very large stocking.
(polite crowd laughs)
From all of us at the New Yorker,
thank you, Maestro for taking the
time to be with us today.
(wild applause lulls)
At some point I saw you visibly
flinch as I read your bio. Did I
leave something out or are you self-
conscious about the incredibly
varied things that you’ve achieved?
TÁR
Well, in today’s world, varied is a
dirty word. Our era is one of
specialists. And if someone is
trying to do more than one thing,
it’s often frowned upon.
GOPNIK
You mean we’re all typecast?
TÁR
Yes... aggressively so.
GOPNIK
When do people who write about classical
music stop using gender as distinction?
TÁR
I’m probably the wrong person to
ask since I don’t read reviews.
GOPNIK
Do you read any press at all?
TÁR
No. But it is odd that people ever
felt compelled to substitute
“maestro” with “maestra.”
 —6—

TÁR (CONT'D)
We don’t call women astronauts
“astronettes.” But as to the
question of gender bias, I have
nothing to complain about. Nor,
for that matter, should Nathalie
Stutzmann, Laurence Equilbey,
Marin Alsop, or JoAnn Falletta.
There were so many incredible
women who came before us, women
who did the real lifting.
GOPNIK
Name one.
TÁR
Okay, first and foremost, Nadia
Boulanger. That’s the happy example.
The sad one would be Antonia Brico,
who by all accounts was an incredible
conductor but was ghettoized into the
non-glamorous status of “guest
conductor” and essentially treated as
a dog act.
GOPNIK
She never had the opportunity to
conduct a major orchestra?
TÁR
She did conduct the Berlin Philharmonic,
as well as the Met. But again, only as
a guest conductor. At that time, it was
all gender spectacle. Fortunately,
times change. The Pauline conversion is,
if not complete, then evolving nicely.
GOPNIK
Words of hope. Okay, let’s talk about
translation. Many people think of a
conductor as essentially a human
metronome.
TÁR
Well, that’s partly true. Keeping
time is no small thing.
GOPNIK
But there’s much more isn’t there?
TÁR
I hope so, yes. But time is the
thing. Time is the essential piece
of interpretation. You cannot start
without me. I start the clock. My
left hand shapes, but my right hand,
the second-hand, marks time and moves
it forward.
 —7—

TAR (CONT'D)
However, unlike a clock, sometimes my
second-hand stops... which means
time stops. The illusion is that,
like you, I’m responding to the
orchestra in real-time, and making a
decision about the right moment to
restart the thing, or reset it... or
throw time out the window altogether.
The reality is that from the very
beginning... I know precisely what
time it is, and the exact moment we
will arrive at our destination
together. The only real discovery for
me is in the rehearsal, never the
performance.
GOPNIK
Tough question, I know, but what was
the most important thing you learned
from Bernstein?
TÁR
Kavanah, it’s Hebrew for: attention
to meaning, or intent. What are the
composer’s priorities, what are yours?
GOPNIK
Kavanah... I think many in our
audience may have other
associations with that word.
TÁR
Yes, I’d imagine so.
GOPNIK
The first conductors on the scene
weren’t all that important, right?
TÁR
Yes, that’s right. By default it
was the job of the principal
violinist.
GOPNIK
When does that change? And why?
TÁR
With the French composer Jean
Baptiste Lully who reportedly used a
rather enormous, rather pointy staff
to pound the tempi into the floor.
It’s not something I imagine the
players particularly appreciated...
anyway, that technique ended during
a performance when he accidentally
stabbed himself in the foot with the
thing, and died of gangrene.
 —8—

TÁR (CONT'D)
(audience laughs)
But the conductor becomes essential
as the ensembles get bigger. And
once again, we go back to Beethoven.
(sings opening of fifth)
Doesn’t start with the eighth note.
The downbeat’s silent. Someone had
to start that clock. Now when that
someone was Lenny, the orchestra was
led on the most extraordinary tour
of pleasures. He knew the music,
Mahler especially, as well, or
better, than anyone. And of course
deeply and truly loved it. So he
often played with the form. He
wanted an orchestra to feel like
they’d never seen, let alone heard,
or performed, any of that music. So
he’d do radical things... like
disregarding the tempo primo and
ending a phrase molto ritardando...
even though it had no such marking.
GOPNIK
He over-egged it?
TÁR
No, not at all. He celebrated the
joy of his discovery.
GOPNIK
What about your own discovery? You
say this happens in rehearsal.
TÁR
(nods)
We start Monday. However, for this
one it’s really about trying to read
the tea leaves of Mahler’s intention.
We know a great deal about this with
the other symphonies. He was so
inspired by the poetry of Rückert
that for many years he didn’t set
another author to music. But all this
changes with the Five. The Five is a
mystery. The only clue he leaves us
is on the cover of the manuscript
itself. The dedication to his new
wife, Alma. And so if you’re going to
partner with Mahler on his fifth
symphony, the first thing you must do
is try and understand that marriage.
GOPNIK
Alright then, would you say then
that your understanding of that
marriage is similar to Bernstein’s?
 —9—

TÁR
You mentioned my ethnographic
fieldwork in the Amazon. Well,
Adam, the Shipibo-Konibo only
receive an icaros, or song, if the
singer is “there” on the same side
as the spirit who created it. In
this way the past and present
converge. The flip sides of the
same cosmic coin. That definition
of fidelity makes sense to me. But
Lenny believed in teshuvah, the
Talmudic power to reach back in
time and transform the significance
of one’s past deeds. When he played
the Adagietto at Robert Kennedy’s
funeral it ran twelve minutes. He
treated it as a mass, and if you
listen to a recording of it you will
no doubt feel the pathos and
tragedy. That interpretation was
very true for Mahler later in life,
after the professional bottom
dropped out and Alma had abandoned
him for Gropius. But, as I said
before, we are dealing with time.
And this piece was not born into
aching tragedy, it was born into
young love.
GOPNIK
And you chose...
TÁR
... love.
GOPNIK
Yes, but how long?
TÁR
(shrugs, smiles)
... seven minutes.
SEAT 140, ROW V — THE BACK OF A REDHEADED WOMAN CENTERED
The house politely chuckles.
GEFFEN THEATER PROMENADE — TEN MINUTES LATER
The “Card Member Special Experience” underway. Tár fully
involved in conversation, eyes delighting on well-kept
details of the young woman’s figure, make-up, hair, nails,
10-carat Marquis-cut diamond ring, shoes, and RED HANDBAG.
YOUNG MATRON
I was so taken by what you said about
interpretation.
 —10—

YOUNG MATRON (CONT'D)

Specifically, in regard to feelings,
and the fact that you chose love. I
know it’s said you should leave the
tears for the audience, but do you
ever find yourself overwhelmed with
emotion up there on the podium?
TÁR
It does happen... there’s an
expectation/reward cycle with some
works. Spots in them I find so
incredible, that when I’m conducting
I’m not hurrying exactly. But I
can’t wait to get to that spot, and
it does it... does it every time.
Francesca lurks in Tár’s periphery. Tár tries to ignore her.
YOUNG MATRON
So it’s physical as well as emotional.
TAR
Oh, it is. It can take hours to
return to “normal.” You say things
after that others remember, but that
you won’t. Sleep is impossible.
YOUNG MATRON
Like my freshman year at Smith.
(noted by Tár)
Which piece really does that to you?
TÁR
Rite of Spring has eleven pistol-
shots -- a prime number -- that strike
you as both perpetrator and victim.
It wasn’t until I conducted it that
I became absolutely convinced that
we’re all capable of murder... that’s
a fantastic handbag by the way.
YOUNG MATRON
Oh, thanks. I’m glad you like it.
TÁR
... I do.
FRANCESCA
Excuse me. Your lunch with Mr.
Kaplan. His driver is waiting.
Tár, with the tiniest glance, shoos her away. Moves back to YM.
TÁR
I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten your name.
 —11—

YOUNG MATRON
Whitney. Whitney Reese.
TÁR
Whitney, of course.
(takes both hands)
I’m Lydia. Unfortunately, I’ve left
things a bit late and have
something I can’t get out of.
YOUNG MATRON
I understand... can I text you?
SEEN ON THE SCREEN OF A SMARTPHONE
CARLYLE HOTEL PIANO ROOM SUITE done up in a style best
described as late Elaine Stritch. Over this a TEXT EXCHANGE
commentary on the suite itself having once been the preferred
room of Plácido Domingo, with Tár relishing in the irony. The
phone drifts back into the hall, and the door whispers shut.
LE BERNARDIN
A room of diners adorned in eastern standard regimentals.
Corton-Charlemagne is uncorked and poured by ALDO SOHM into
the glass of ELIOT KAPLAN (50), who gives it a brief whiff.
ELIOT
Perfect, Aldo.
(Tár covers her glass)
I was hoping we could celebrate.
TÁR
So was I, but I’ve got a class at
Juilliard. I promised Ben.
ELIOT
Oh goody. I’m sure you’ll have a
few elbowing for an Accordion slot.
TÁR
We should open it up.
ELIOT
Expand our numbers?
TÁR
No, our sex. It feels quaint to keep
things single-gender. We’ve made our
point, and honestly had no trouble
successfully placing any of them.
ELIOT
Yes, all but one.
TÁR
... she had issues.
 —12—

ELIOT
So, I’ve heard. The topic is, if not
unavoidable, then shall we say in
the room at every Citibank meeting
attended by her father.
TÁR
I’m sorry about that.
ELIOT
It’s fine. Not something I can’t
handle. Alright, so you want to
torpedo Accordion’s founding
principal? We’d likely lose donors.
TÁR
I suppose that’s true. Maybe it’s
something to revisit down the line.
ELIOT
Bryant Park’s locked for the twenty-
fifth. Nan asked me to help fill the
place. The Kaplan Fund will buy
some radio and outdoor advertising.
TÁR
And claqueurs. It’s too big, Eliot.
She should have booked The Strand.
ELIOT
Relax. It’ll be great... and it
almost falls on your birthday.
Tár nods, bothered by the mention of the approaching date,
her periphery bothered by a BRIONI-CLAD MAN, dining with a
SHORT MAN, at a nearby table who appears to be staring.
ELIOT
I’m sorry you weren’t able to make
it to my Mahler three in London.
TÁR
Me too. Petra had a school thing.
I promised Sharon I’d be there.
ELIOT
Of course. I was just hoping for
your honest opinion. My player
rating sheets were off the charts.
TÁR
Those are confidential, Eliot.
ELIOT
(smirks)
The principal oboist is a fan.
 —13—

ELIOT (CONT'D)
On the way back, I was listening to
yours with the Israeli Phil, and
was struck by what you pulled from
the strings in the last movement.
How did you get them there. Was it
the hall? The players?
TÁR
The players weren’t very obliging.
The principal violinist came up to
me after the first rehearsal and
asked if I was a Jew. It seemed to
him unusual and perhaps, even
suspicious for a non-Jew to be
interested in conducting “Jewish”
music. I felt like Max Bruch.
ELIOT
(laughs)
Well, big Jew that I am, The Kaplan
Fund has committed a sizable amount
to them for a klezmer commission.
Perhaps they’ll invite me to guest
conduct, the way Berlin did, hmm?
TÁR
They’d be lucky to have you.
ELIOT
Please... I know my place... money
can’t always buy everything.
TÁR
You don’t really believe that.
ELIOT
I’ll have you know I tried to bribe
Francesca to let me have a look at
your notation and she sent me packing.
TÁR
Good girl.
Mr. Brioni is still staring at them. Tár’s bothered now.
TÁR (CONT'D)
That gentleman sitting over there
with the gnome, is urgently focused
on our table. At first I thought it
might be me he was looking at, but I
believe he’s got his eye on you.
ELIOT
Please try and ignore him.
 —14—

TÁR
I can excuse myself and go wash my
hands if you’d like to be alone.
ELIOT
And I’d never forgive you. The last
thing I need is to be button-holed
by someone exactly like me. What
time are you heading back tomorrow?
TÁR
Francesca’s looking into flights.
ELIOT
Call her off. Leave when you like.
TÁR
You don’t have to do that.
ELIOT
My motives are far from altruistic.
Just a peek. One peek at your
performing score?
(she doesn’t bite)
Okay, fine.
TÁR
(checks phone)
Would five-fifteen be alright?
I’ve got to get turned around fast.
We’re filling a vacant position.
ELIOT
Please tell me it’s Sebastian.
TÁR
Be fair, Eliot. Sebastian has
decent technique, he has baton.
ELIOT
I dropped into Bunkamura to hear the
touring machine trot out Chopin one
last month. Ol’ Sebastian truly is
Mr. Tempo-rubato.
TÁR
Robot-o is more like it.
ELIOT
Why do you keep him on?
TÁR
He’s Andris’s man. You know that.
ELIOT
Yes, exactly! You inherited that
decision. Seven years is a long
time to pretend you respect it.
 —15—

TÁR
We have different labor contracts
over there... he’s an odd guy.
ELIOT
Andris?
TÁR
Sebastian... he has fetishes.
ELIOT
Fetishes. What kind?
TÁR
Nostalgia for pre-war Kalmus
miniature scores, dead-stock
pencils he’s seen Karajan hold in
photographs. That sort of thing.
ELIOT
Ugg. Sad.
TÁR
But you’re not wrong... at some
point I will need to rotate him.
ELIOT
For who?
(she ignores question)
Okay... “What Love Teaches Me.”
That string notation...
TÁR
Mahler gives it to you himself:
“Langsam, ruhevoll, empfunden.”
(he’s not buying it)
Trust me, you don’t want to go to
school on someone else’s red & blue
pencil, least of all mine.
ELIOT
Oh, but I do.
TÁR
You’ll quit pestering me?
(he nods)
Free bowing. Not pretty for an
audience to look at, but if you can
manage to keep your players out of
the weeds, the sound is ferocious.
He smiles like the cat who ate the canary.
TÁR (CONT'D)
There’s no glory for a robot,
Eliot. Do your own thing.
Kaplan still smiling, but resenting the lesson.
 —16—

— A SUPERBALL MALLET STRIKES the HARP of a DETUNED PIANO —

ONSTAGE AT MORSE RECITAL HALL
MAX (24) conducts a STUDENT ENSEMBLE in rehearsal for Anna
Thorvaldsdóttir’s Ró. This interrupted by the click, click,
click of Tár’s baton striking a stand.
TÁR (O.C.)
Alright, let’s stop here.
Tár joins Max at the podium.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Thank you, Max... for my own
edification, why did you come to
Juilliard?
MAX
Uh... it’s the best music
conservatory in the country?
TÁR
People from Curtis, Eastman, and
others may beg to differ. Juilliard
is a brand, right? Did you come here
to study with a brand?
MAX
... uh, no.
TÁR
There was a teacher, or graduate
somewhere down the line that
conjured something in your
imagination. Someone you aspired to
be yourself. Who was it?
MAX
(smiles)
Sarah Chang.
TÁR
You’re a violinist.
MAX
Yes.
TÁR
(stares at score)
Then I can see why you would choose
to conduct a piece like this. There
must be a familiar pleasure in
presiding over a bed of strings
that behave as if they’re tuning.
(Max good-naturedly laughs)
This piece is very au courant.
 —17—

TÁR (CONT'D)
Here the composer tells us to begin
with “back and forth tremolo strokes
with wire brush & slowly sliding
crotales over skin.” Sounds like René
Redzepi’s recipe for reindeer.
Max laughs again.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Exciting to play new music, isn’t it?
(Max nods)
Please join the other fellows.
Tár looks out at the seated students.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Now, I know you’re all conducting
students of Mr. Wolfe’s, but how
many of you also study composition?
(hands up, she selects one)
What is your name?
OLIVE KERR
Olive Kerr.
TÁR
Okay, Olive. What do you make of
what we’ve been listening to?
OLIVE KERR
It’s... pretty awesome... I mean
there’s incredible atonal tension.
TÁR
(leaves stage)
I agree. About the tension part.
Now you can intellectually
contemplate, or masturbate about
the felicity of the so-called
atonal, but the important question
here is what are you conducting?
What is the effect? What is it
actually doing to me?
(heads to where Max sits)
Good music can be as ornate as a
cathedral or as bare as a potting
shed. So long as it allows you to
answer both of those questions.
What do you think Max?
Max’s looks put on the spot, as nervous as his bouncing knee.
MAX
Uh... when Anna Thorvaldsdóttir gave
her Master Class.
 —18—

MAX (CONT'D)
She said she was often influenced by
the form and structure of landscapes
and nature she grew up within. But
I’m not sure if she was interested
per se, in describing those actual
sounds.
TÁR
Very Punkt Kontra Punkt.
(off blank looks, moves to
apron of stage and sits)
Yes, the intent of her composition is
vague, to say the least. So if her
intent is vague, how do you, as a
conductor, have a point of view about
anything? Now to be fair, there are
times when you will simply have no
choice and be made to stand in front
of an orchestra and pretend there are
invisible structures. But my prayer
for you is that you‘ll be spared the
embarrassment of standing on a podium
with the four thirty-three trying to
sell a car without an engine. Because
now, my friends, now is the time to
conduct music that actually requires
something from you.
(heads back to Max and
takes a seat next to him)
For instance, Max. Why not a Kyrie?
... like Bach’s Mass in B minor?
MAX
I’m not really into Bach.
TÁR
You’re not into Bach. Oh, Max. Have
you read the Schweitzer book?
MAX
No.
TÁR
Well, you should.
(feigns a head punch)
It’s an important text. Antonia
Brico thought so. So much so that
she shipped herself to Equatorial
Africa and canoed up the Congo
River to track Schweitzer down and
ask him to teach her what he knew
about Bach... somewhere I’ve got a
picture of her in a pith helmet.
Have you ever played or conducted
Bach?
 —19—

MAX
Honestly, as a BIPOC pangender-
person, I would say Bach’s
misogynistic life makes it kind of
impossible for me to take his music
seriously.
TÁR
What exactly do you mean by that?
MAX
Well, didn’t he sire like twenty
kids?
TÁR
That’s documented, along with a
considerable amount of music.
But I’m unclear what his prodigious
skills in the marital bed have to
do with B minor.
MAX’S KNEE NOW ON OVERDRIVE, unignorable and intolerable to
Tár who gets to her feet and heads back up onto the stage.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Okay, sure. It’s your choice. A soul
selects her own society. But
remember the flip-side of that
selection closes the valves of one’s
attention.
(pacing now)
Of course, siloing what’s acceptable
or not acceptable is a construct of
many, if not most, symphony
orchestras, who see it as their
imperial right to curate for the
cretins. So, slippery as it is,
there’s some merit in examining
Max’s allergy. Can classical music
written by a bunch of straight,
Austro-German, church-going white
guys, exalt us individually, as well
as collectively? And who, may I ask,
gets to decide that?
(turns back to Max)
What about Beethoven? Are you into
him? Because for meee? As a U-Haul
Lesbian? I’m not really sure about
ol’ Ludwig. But then I face him and
find myself nose-to-nose with his
magnitude and inevitability.
(moves to piano bench)
Max, indulge me, let us allow Bach a
similar gaze.
She gestures Max over to join her at the bench. He walks back
up onto the stage and just stands there.
 —20—

TÁR (CONT'D)
(pats bench)
Sit.
She playfully begins the C Major Prelude from Bach’s Well-
Tempered Clavier. She makes a clown face. The point being
this piece is so well-known that she knows she must make fun
of the example before anyone else in the room can.
TÁR (CONT'D)
This is all filigree. It could be a
first-year piano student, or
Schroder playing for Lucy.
(she gazes up moon-eyed)
... or Glen Gould for that matter.
She Gould-groans and changes the attack. Then stops.
TÁR (CONT'D)
It’s not until it changes.
(she plays the first change)
When you get inside, that you see
what it really is. A question, and
an answer.
(plays second change)
That begs another question. There’s a
humility in Bach. He’s not pretending
he’s certain of anything. He knows
it’s the question that involves the
listener. Never the answer.
(stops)
What do you think, Max?
MAX
You play really well? But...
nowadays? White, male, cis
composers? Just not my thing.
MAX’S KNEE starts BOUNCING up and down again. TÁR’S HAND
reaches over and stops it.
TÁR
Don’t be so eager to be offended.
The narcissism of small differences
leads to the most boring conformity.
MAX
I guess Edgar Varèse is okay...
I mean I like Arcana anyway.
Tár leaves stage, up the aisle, into the rake with the other
fellows, leaving Max alone on the piano bench. Twenty vs one.
 —21—

TÁR
Then you must be aware that Varèse
once famously stated that jazz was
“a negro product exploited by the
Jews.” That didn’t stop Gerry
Goldsmith from ripping him off for
his Planet of the Apes score.
(pacing the rake)
Kind of a perfect insult, don’t you
think? But you see the problem with
enrolling yourself as an ultrasonic
epistemic dissident is, if Bach’s
talent can be reduced to his gender,
birth country, religion, sexuality,
and so on -- then so can yours.
Someday Max, when you go out into
the world and guest conduct before a
major, or minor, orchestra, you may
notice that the players have more
than lightbulbs and music on their
stands. They’ll also have been
handed rating sheets. The purpose of
which is to rate you. What kind of
criteria would you hope they use to
do this? Your score reading and
stick technique, or something else?
(Max is silent)
Okay everyone. Using Max’s
criteria, let us consider Max’s
thing. In this case Anna
Thorvaldsdóttir. Now, can we agree
upon two pieces of observation:
One, that Anna was born in Iceland?
And two, that she is -- in a Waldorf
teacher kind of way -- a super hot
young woman? Show of hands.
(hands shoot up )
Great. Now let’s turn our gaze back
to the piano bench up there and see
if we can square how any of those
things possibly relate to the
person seated before us.
(Max heads for the exit)
Where are you going?
MAX
You’re a fucking bitch!
TÁR
And you are a robot! Unfortunately,
the architect of your soul appears to
be social media. If you want to dance
the mask, you must service the
composer. Sublimate yourself, your
ego, and yes, your identity! You must
in fact stand in front of the public
and God and obliterate yourself.
 —22—

ON A LAPTOP SCREEN
Someone copying coverage from today’s New Yorker interview
into Tár’s wikipedia page. Given the nimbleness with which
this is accomplished, it’s clearly habit. Emanating from the
laptop speakers is Alex Baldwin’s “Here’s The Thing.” An
exchange with Tár concerning her partner Sharon Goodnow.
BEHIND THE REDHEADED WOMAN
Watching Francesca cross from Zitomer’s to The Carlyle.
THE SUITE DOOR OPENS
To Francesca holding a GARMENT BAG from Mr. Ned.
SOMETIME LATER
Francesca appraises Tár’s outfit examining her head-to-toe.
FRANCESCA
Jake said he was certain you’d be
happy with the drape of the seat.
TÁR
I will, if I can keep the fat off
until next month.
FRANCESCA
You never gain weight. Your mother
texted me. She knows you’re busy
but is hoping to drop by.
TÁR
Next trip.
FRANCESCA
What are you thinking for dinner?
TÁR
I’ll stay in and put this piano to
use. I’m suspicious of that E natural
in the cello line... doesn’t it sound
like warmed over Charles Ives to you?
FRANCESCA
Not at all.
Tár plucks a MANUSCRIPT from the table and moves to the piano.
TÁR
You must have some New Haven friends
you’d like to catch up with tonight.
FRANCESCA
No, not really. Should I stop by
later for notes?
 —23—

TÁR
That won’t be necessary.
Tár’s silence followed by her hand striking a note on the
keyboard makes it clear to Francesca she’s been dismissed.
She turns, then stops and reaches into her bag and retrieves
a tastefully-wrapped BOOK-SIZED PACKAGE.
FRANCESCA
I almost forgot. This was left for
you at the front desk.
TÁR
By who?
FRANCESCA
They didn’t say.
TAR
No card?
FRANCESCA
No.
TAR
Okay, thanks, just leave it there.
FRANCESCA
Goodnight.
Francesca sets it down and exits.
Tár plays the cello line. Working it over again, and again.
SUITE BATHROOM
Far from settling in for the night, Tár stands in front of
the mirror dolling herself up. From the other room, Jessica
Hansen’s voice is heard reading NPR program breaks. Tár
responds to the distinctive Hansen lilt, then imitates her
read. Tár’s eyes, satisfied with her mimicry, suddenly fill
with concern. She turns and looks back into the suite, as if
sensing someone or something. But there’s nothing there.
MAYBACH IN THE BATTERY TUNNEL
Francesca and Tár in the back.
TÁR
(not happy)
When were you informed of this?
FRANCESCA
Just this morning. Mr. Kaplan was
very apologetic... I was able to
get us on the seven a.m. you like
through Munich.
 —24—

FRANCESCA (CONT'D)
The connection’s short, but special
services are standing by.
TÁR
Where are things are with DG? Tell
me they’ve finally woken up to see
the wisdom of honest-to-God LPs for
this release.
FRANCESCA
(scans phone)
No movement there yet.
TÁR
The email I drafted for you--
FRANCESCA
I sent it last night.
TÁR
Forward me their response...
your take on the New Yorker talk.
FRANCESCA
... it went well, I thought.
TÁR
You’re hedging. I was garrulous.
FRANCESCA
No, not at all.
TÁR
Francesca, if you have any real
interest in conducting, then you
need to be able to speak your mind.
FRANCESCA
... perhaps you could have made
less of the relationship with--
TÁR
Lenny?
FRANCESCA
No... I was thinking about Mahler
and Alma’s. You implied that she
betrayed him, and I’m not sure
I agree with that.
TÁR
Oh, really.
FRANCESCA
Alma was a composer too, but Mahler
insisted she stop writing music. He
said there was only room for --
 —25—

TÁR
(cutting her off)
One asshole in the house?
FRANCESCA
Yes.
TÁR
But she agreed to those rules. No
one made that decision for her.
Hashtag rulesofthegame.
FRANCESCA (SUBTITLED FRENCH)
“If woman has the right to mount the
scaffold; she must equally have the
right to mount the tribune.”
Francesca playfully sticks her tongue out at a gloating Tár.
There is an underlying tension between the two. The tension
of people who have at times slept together, but no longer do.
Francesca’s eyes land on the handle of a familiar red handbag.
FRANCESCA
How was your evening?
TAR
Uneventful. Any of Sharon’s pills left?
FRANCESCA
No, but Dr. Korovin called these in.
(hands her Zitomer’s sack)
I received another weird email from
Krista. How should I reply.
TÁR
Don’t.
FRANCESCA
This one felt particularly desperate.
TÁR (SUBTITLED GERMAN)
‘Hope Dies Last.’
AIRCRAFT LAVATORY
Locks the door, Purells her hands, retrieves the prescription.
Takes a pill. Returns the bottle to her handbag, and returns
with the still-unopened wrapped package.
She hesitates, then removes the wrapping paper to find a
first edition of Vita Sackville-West’s Challenge.
She sits on the closed commode, opens the book to the title
page where West’s signature has been crossed out, and below
it, a repetitive geometric pattern scrawled, like a maze.
 —26—

She takes a breath, rips the page out, stands, and tries to
shove it, and the book, into the trash’s very small opening.
BACK AT HER SEAT
Working an anagram for Krista. The first three: traiks,
straik, kraits. She puzzles out “at risk.”
TÁR’S HOME
She arrives in the middle of night, and habitually begins
turning off LIGHTS left on EVERYWHERE.
Stops when she sees the light on at the end of the far hallway
where a woman paces back and forth.
LIBRARY SITTING ROOM
She enters to find SHARON GOODNOW (40) pacing in her underwear.
SHARON
The flutter’s back. It’s racing. I
can’t find my Metoprolol anywhere.
Tár immediately heads to
THE BATHROOM
Takes the bottle from her bag, taps out a pill, and noisily
closes the medicine cabinet before returning to
THE SITTING ROOM
TÁR
This was lying loose on the
counter. Is it the right one?
Sharon looks at it, nods, and swallows it.
SHARON
Thank you... is that a new bag?
TÁR
A gift from Eliot. Do you want it?
SHARON
(sits, catches breath)
... no, suits you.
Tár moves to her office, slips an LP from a cover adorned with
a mushroom cloud, and places it on a TURNTABLE.
TÁR
Let’s slow things down to sixty
beats a minute.
She takes Sharon into her arms and they slow dance to the
Basie Band playing Neal Hefti’s Li’l Darlin’.
 —27—

SHARON
... actually it’s sixty-four...
tried reaching you on your mobile
last night, and again at the hotel.
TÁR
Must of been asleep.
SHARON
You never sleep that deeply.
TÁR
Don’t be a scold.
(sings softly)
When I get to feelin', a feelin'
For something there ain't too much of
My sweet lil' darlin' gives me her love.
SHARON
... I’m worried about Petra. She’s
starting to disappear into herself.
TÁR
Be specific.
SHARON
She keeps coming home with bruises
on her shins, and when I ask her
about it she gets quiet. I hope it’s
just playground football and not a
Biodeutsche thing.
TÁR
... we talked about this.
SHARON
... maybe we just need to put more
effort into finding her a friend.
Last year was so hard. To be locked
up alone with two old ladies like us.
TÁR
... she’s old enough now to begin
piano lessons. I’ll teach her.
SHARON
Yes, that might be good.
TÁR
How’s your heart?
SHARON
... better now, thank you.
They keep share a tender kiss.
 —28—

NEXT MORNING
The clock radio clicks on. Tár wakes alone to the classical
station playing the final movement of Shostakovich’s Symphony
no. 5. Percussion driving the screaming brass.
TÁR
(to self)
Knock, knock... who’s there?
Walter? Lenny? No it’s you MTT!
Why do you insist on holding things
up like that? Your business here is
rejoicing. Not screaming like a
fucking porn star!
It ends. The DJ confirms that it’s in fact Michael Tilson Thomas.
BATHROOM — LATER
Tár at the mirror, the foreground dirties, she quickly turns
to find PETRA, her six-year-old adopted Syrian daughter.
TÁR
Hello Petra. Why are you lurking?
(Petra is silent)
Tell me and I will help.
SHARON’S OFFICE
Tár, now holding Petra’s hand, peeks in to Sharon.
TÁR
Sharon, I’m driving Petra to school.
TÁR (PRE-LAP)
“Who’ll bear the pall?”
IN TÁR’S TAYCAN
Tár driving, Petra in better spirits.
PETRA
‘We,’ said the Wren. ‘Both the cock
and the hen, we'll bear the pall.’
TÁR
"Who'll sing a psalm?"
PETRA
‘I,’ said the Thrush. As she sat
on a bush, ‘I'll sing a psalm.’
TÁR
"Who'll toll the bell?"
PETRA
‘I,’ said the bull, ‘because I
can pull, I'll toll the bell.’
 —29—

TOGETHER
“All the birds of the air fell
a-sighing and a-sobbing, when
they heard the bell toll for
poor Cock Robin.”
OUTSIDE AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL IN CHARLOTTENBURG
Tár stands by the Taycan, scanning the other CHILDREN and
PARENTS, while Petra struggles into her knapsack.
TÁR
Which one is she?
Petra looks around and points to a KNOT of GIRLS clustered
around JOHANNA, a perfect blond Aryan child in a red jacket.
PETRA
... the red one.
TÁR
Okay. Go on in.
Tár watches Petra head up the stairs to the entrance. As soon
as she’s safely inside, Tár pivots, walks over to the girls
and crouches down in front of the red-coated blond child.
TÁR (SUBTITLED GERMAN)
Hello, Johanna. I’m Petra’s father.
She’s told me a lot about you.
The other girls share complicit looks before drifting away.
Johanna, in a state of surprise, just stands there frozen.
TÁR (SUBTITLED GERMAN)(CONT'D)
I know what you’re doing to her.
And if you ever do it again, do
you know what I’ll do? I’ll get you.
And if you tell any grown-ups what I
just said -- they won’t believe you.
Because I’m a grown-up. But you need to
believe me: I will get you. Remember
this Johanna, God watches all of us.
Her intensity terrifies the child. Tár gets up and walks away.
Johanna watches as Tár crosses the street, approaches her car,
and gives a friendly wave to an arriving parent.
BERLIN ORCHESTRA HALL, BACKSTAGE HALLWAY - LATER
Tár on the move exchanges greetings and handshakes with
behind-the-scene hands of the orchestra. Francesca waits
with Purell...
FRANCESCA
They’re already in the chamber hall.
Tár shakes her head and heads into the
 —30—

LADIES ROOM
Washing her hands like a surgeon. 60 BPM HEEL STRIKES bring
her gaze to the MIRROR in time to see an attractive YOUNG
WOMAN disappear into a STALL.
Tár dries her hands and starts out, but curiosity gets the
best of her. She squats
To PEER under the stall, taking note of the young woman’s
BOOTS.
CHAMBER HALL
Tár enters and observes Sharon, who we will come to know as the
Concertmaster, whispering to one of the FOUR player/auditors.
Tár approaches the auditor’s table and an older man, SEBASTIAN
BRIX (70, Assistant Conductor) stands, and she takes his place.
SEBASTIAN
(nervously clicks pen)
I’m sorry, Maestro, we weren’t sure
you were coming. We were told there
might be a scheduling conflict.
She smiles tightly, and cocks an eyebrow at Sharon who shrugs.
SEBASTIAN (CONT'D)
Would you like me to take notes?
TÁR
(reaches out to stop clicking)
Thank you, Sebastian, but that
won’t be necessary.
Sebastian, looking a bit glum, shuffles to the back.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Do we all have our rating sheets?
I see you’ve narrowed it to three.
Unless anyone has other business to
discuss, let’s bring in number one.
She looks to Francesca who slips behind a SCREEN. We hear the
noises-off entrance of someone taking their seat behind it.
A SERIES OF JUMP CUTS
Take us through THREE UNSEEN PLAYERS’ solo auditions. As the
last player finishes their piece, we glimpse Tár’s audit
sheet and the 1 thru 5 category checks for all three players.
60 BPM HEEL STRIKES exiting the room, make her glance up
toward the screen before returning to her sheet to adjust it.
 —31—

INSIDE THE SAVOY HAVANA BAR

Where ANDRIS DAVIS, 82, is known and still feels like a big
deal. The walls adorned with framed B&W photos of famous dead
people. Other than Marlene Deitrich, nearly all are white
males of classical music. Among them Furtwängler and Karajan,
Tár hates the place, and pokes at a salad while listening to
old man stories, hoping she never becomes such a creature.
ANDRIS
Goosens stands, sounds his A. Léon of
course was famous for his rather wide
vibrato, and so Beecham looks up and
says, “Gentleman, take your pick.”
(she laughs politely)
How’s the writing going?
TÁR
I never know how to answer that
question. It makes it sound like a
physical act. Like how’s the
shitting going?
ANDRIS
Okay, how’s the thinking going?
TÁR
Not so well. I keep hearing
something and getting excited only
to catch myself in pastiche.
ANDRIS
It’s all pastiche. We all have the
same musical grammar. Just look at
Beethoven Five. The third movement's
theme has the same sequence of
intervals as the opening theme of the
final movement of Mozart forty.
TÁR
That could have been coincidence.
ANDRIS
Not in this case. If you examine the
sketchbooks he used, twenty-nine
bars of Mozart's finale appear,
copied out by Beethoven.
TÁR
I find that extremely depressing.
ANDRIS
I finished reading your manuscript.
It’s very good, Lydia. One for the
ages and, I dare say, will be
available long after my book has
been forgotten.
 —32—

TÁR
You’re right. The entire first
printing will always be available.
ANDRIS
Too modest, as usual.
He produces an ENVELOPE from his pocket, and hands it to her.
She frees a slip of typewritten paper, reads it, and smiles.
TÁR
Thank you, Andris. I’ll cherish this.
ANDRIS
(waves hand)
You may use it.
(Tár looks confused)
A blurb... for the cover.
TÁR
(uncomfortable)
Oh... thank you... I’ll send it to
the publisher... hopefully, there’s
still time.
ANDRIS
I’m proud to say you were my pupil.
Even though there was really
nothing I could teach you.
TÁR
That’s not true. I’d never have the
position here were it not for you.
ANDRIS
Then you’d be in London, or New York.
TÁR
They’re not Berlin. Besides, I’m
not sure what Sharon would do if we
were ever to leave. She’s so close
with her family.
ANDRIS
Ah, yes the Goodnow sisters, I
remember that older one being an
absolute ballbuster when she still
held sway at DG.
TÁR
Heika is a woman of many opinions.
And that voice. The signal-to-noise
ratio is unbearable. I’ve had to bolt-
hole at my old place in town to get
any writing done.
 —33—

ANDRIS
Schopenhauer measured a person’s
intelligence against their
sensitivity to noise.
TÁR
Didn’t he also famously throw a
woman down a flight of stairs who
later sued him?
ANDRIS
Yes, though it’s unclear that this
private and personal failing is at
all relevant to his work.
OUTSIDE THE SAVOY
Tár stands with Andris. His CAR arrives, the driver gets out
to open the door for Andris, but Tár waves him off.
TÁR
You’re late.
TÁR ENTERS HER OLD CHARLOTTENBERG APT
And begins a ritual that involves candles and breath. There
are three frames on the wall: a 1912 PORTRAIT of the German
mathematician David Hilbert. A DRAWING of his curve in its
sixth configuration. And a B&W photo of a 24-year-old Tár,
whose face is painted with a Kené pattern, as is the tribal
elder of the Shipibo-Konibo shaman who emits smoke onto her.
She hangs her coat, kicks off her shoes, picks out score
she’s composing. We may glimpse the redhead in BG out of
focus. We move with Tár L to R. She finds the sheet she wants
and turns back to work table, but there is no one there. She
adjusts the notation, and carries the sheet over to the
piano, takes a seat, and plays a phrase. She stops and turns
as if someone might be sneaking up on her. She brushes her
shoulders and repeats woosh-breaths to escape the feeling.
LATER
In the kitchen she pours herself some tea. A faint repetitive
TWO-TONE ELECTRONIC CHIME catches her attention. She sets her
cup down. Heads back into the
APARTMENT COMMON ROOM
Stops and stands listening. Unsure if she still hears it, or
if it’s the memory of an irritant. She hums the tones. Moves
to the piano and finds the interval.
BENEATH AN S-BAHN TRESTLE
On her daily run passing all manner of wild posts that
include images of herself facing off with Mahler, as if
promising a live V prizefight between the two of them.
 —34—

LIETZENSEE PARK
She moves along the lake shore and into
LANGGRASWIESE
Stops to catch her breath. Her ears prick to something like
WOOD CRACKING followed by A WOMAN CRYING IN TERROR, and or
AGONY. She scans the middle-distance for the source.
SPRINTS TO THE LIKELY AREA OF THE SOUND
Cutting across meadowland to a
COPSE OF TREES, but doesn’t see anything. The scream grows
distant, but at the same time more terrifyingly desperate.
SHE LIES AWAKE IN BED
The sound still echoing in her head.
TÁR’S OLD CHARLOTTENBERG APARTMENT
AT THE PIANO working over the thing she’s writing, she stops,
niggled by something. That FAINT two-tone interval. Something
electronic but at a remove, as if coming through the wall.
She stands
PEEKS INTO THE HALL. Nothing. Shuts the door.
AT THE PIANO she plucks out the interval, rests her chin in
her hand and, using only her index finger continues the
electronic interval letting it naturally progress to bars 15-
17 of Trauermarsch, like a child playing around, singing it,
until she reaches bar 18 when she uses both hands for the
crashing chords of this and bar 19.
GROSSER SAAL - MAHLER V. MOVEMENT I. TRAUERMARSCH. BAR 20 TO 34
Tár leading a rehearsal. The sonic power of one of the world’s
greatest orchestras with players from across the globe. Tár
addresses them mostly in English. This is where we see the
why and how of who she is. The art of the particular. The
discipline. The only real reason that people put up with her.
A SERIES OF STARTS & STOPS:
TÁR
Alright. Good. Back to one. Remember
that sforzando on the whole note
attached to the eighth must be
strict. But also as if we’re hearing
it from a great distance. Ta Ta Ta
kaaa. Ta Ta Ta kaaa. Ta Ta Ta kaaaaaa.
She looks around. Squints into the auditorium. Calls out.
 —35—

TÁR (CONT'D)
Is Harald nearby?
We HEAR a man’s voice answer her back over a LOUDSPEAKER.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Great. I wonder if you might
quickly rig something up for us.
MOMENTS LATER - TRAUERMARSCH. BAR 1 TO 13
The FIRST CHAIR TRUMPET stands backstage, horn raised,
staring at a MONITOR displaying TÁR ON THE PODIUM, hands
gesturing the downbeat, and he attacks the triplets. The view
ADJUSTS to include the OPEN STAGE DOOR and Tár on the podium
beyond. The distance achieves the desired effect.
TÁR
Good, good, wonderful.
(stops them at bar 13)
Harald? We’ll want this same set-up
for the live recording.
THIRD MOVEMENT. SCHERZO. BAR 448 TO 469
TÁR
No. No diminuendo. Never get softer
before the pianos. Maintain the
tension. Then piano subito. Okay.
Back from 462.
SECOND MOVEMENT. STÜRMISCH BEWEGET. BAR 16 TO 33
TÁR
However much you move your heads,
we still can’t hear the sforzando.
(sings line, mimics heads)
Looks great, but we need to hear it.
A small squabble between TWO VIOLINISTS
TÁR (CONT'D)
(stops it by tapping baton)
Okay twenty-seven. Strings alone.
Now remember. Before the
transition. It’s got to be like a
shot.
STÜRMISCH BEWEGET. BAR 27 TO 31
TÁR (CONT'D)
(they start, she stops them)
No, much too slow. It has to vanish
immediately. Sharon?
 —36—

STÜRMISCH BEWEGET. BAR 30

Sharon perfectly demonstrates what Tár’s after. Satisfied,
Tár allows the strings to continue, then stops them.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Okay, tutti. Two before with the
upbeat on bar 29.
POST REHEARSAL - RECORDING BOOTH
Tár drops in and is greeted from behind a bank of monitors
and sliders by HARALD (45), Chief Lighting/Video Technician,
and CHRISTIAN (40), Chief Sound Mixer.
TÁR
How are things feeling up here?
CHRISTIAN
Great! It’s a shame we won’t lay
this one down direct-to-disk.
TÁR
Criminal is more like it. Shoot me
the mp3s?
CHRISTIAN
You don’t want WAVs?
TÁR
No. Just what people will actually
be streaming.
HARALD
Video?
TÁR
Yes, stage left A camera.
(he nods)
Thanks guys.

BLOCK K - MOMENTS LATER

Tár in an aisle seat making notes, Sharon and Francesca
seated nearby. Sebastian stands in Tár’s immediate periphery,
waiting to be summoned, Tár bothered, finally nods him over.
SEBASTIAN
(squats, whispers)
One small thing Maestro. During the
scherzo, the clarinet solo is a bit
too loud. It really should be an
accompanying figure to the first
violins -- but other than that I’d
say we’re in very good shape.
He nervously CLICKS his BALLPOINT PEN.
 —37—

TÁR
Thank you, Sebastian.
He exits. She watches him ascend the stairs.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Accurate assessment?
SHARON
No, I don’t think so. The clarinet
is marked p and we’re marked pp.
TÁR
Francesca?
FRANCESCA
Sebastian likes to sit in the
stalls —- there’s no problem with
the balance in the circle. It’s
going to sing in the hall.
CONCERT HALL — MOMENTS LATER
They now sit with a photographer, KARL (28) and a stylist
TANYA (23) making a presentation using examples of past work:
Come-hither images of Lola Astonova, Janine Jansen, and
Natalie Cleina. A color-me interesting DG cover of Víkingur
Ólafsson, and a super-serious image of Anu Tali.
KARL
Oh, and here is something super
playful Tanya and I did with Gustavo.
Tár nods, pretending to appreciate these stomach-turners.
TÁR
Really wonderful work, Karl. But
I’m wondering if we might try
something a little less considered.
MOMENTS LATER
Francesca stands with Karl and Tanya looking at Tár in the
overly-considered pose she lifted from the Abbado album.
FRANCESCA
(to Karl)
Something simple like this. I’m not
sure how you would want to light it.
TÁR
Have Harald dim to half.
FRANCESCA
(into walkie)
House lights down half please.
 —38—

LIGHTS DIM, Tár briefly lifts her eyes from the prop of her
open score, and senses someone watching her. Her gaze finds
BLOCK G
Where Olga sits staring at her. Tár doesn’t break her gaze.
Finally, Olga stands, and exits. Tár smiles to herself, and
catches Francesca watching both Tár and the exiting Olga.
PRINCIPAL CONDUCTOR’S OFFICE
Tár enters to find Knut Braun, the clarinet player from the
audition. He stands and Tár gestures him to sit again.
TÁR
Thank you for waiting.
KNUT
Of course, Maestro. How are you
feeling about today’s rehearsal?
Tár smiles. A moment, then.
TÁR
Sebastian thinks your clarinet solo
in the scherzo is too loud.
KNUT
... it’s possible.
TÁR
I don’t agree. Your dynamic marking is
higher than that of the first violin.
KNUT
Yes, that’s true.
TÁR
Sebastian is getting old, Knut.
I’m rotating him out. You’re the
first to know.
KNUT
Oh... well... then I will organize
a caucus and we will take a vote.
TÁR
No, you won’t.
KNUT
A vote must be taken.
TÁR
I’m familiar with the electoral
conclave. But the appointment of
the assistant conductor is entirely
my decision.
 —39—

Knut considers this, then nods.

TÁR
Then I can count on your support
with the others?
KNUT
Yes. Who will you replace him with?
TÁR
I’m looking at several possible
candidates. The main thing is that
we move forward immediately.
KNUT
I understand... Maestro, the
players would like to know if you
have chosen the companion piece?
TÁR (SUBTITLE)
Soon. I promise.
SHE RUNS THE TUNNEL
Connecting the lakes of Lietzensee Park and out into
THE RAIN, CLIMBING A RISE TO AN OUTDOOR ZEITUNGSSTAND
Rifles the CULTURE SECTIONS of NATIONAL NEWS MAGAZINES
looking for any possible reference to herself. A sharp
WHISTLE turns her attention to the HAND that shoots from the
kiosk holding DER SPIEGEL. She moves to the MAN inside the
kiosk holding it. She takes it from him, tries to pay, but he
waves her off.
TÁR'S HOME STUDY — LATER
A page containing a photo and story about Tár are carefully
removed from the magazine, placed into a box labeled
“sundries,“ and slid into the back recess of a credenza.
Tár grabs a Blackwing 602, and Caran d’Ache red & blue
correction pencil from a cabinet of working supplies.
GRAZE THE SHELVES for spine-titled boxes containing Tár’s
performance scores. She retrieves the Mahler V, moves to the
piano and opens it. Plays the opening triplet. Closes it,
shoves it to the side, grabs her composition and plays the
cello line. Working it over again, and again.
She plays it once more, changes the A to an F. Doesn’t move
during the pedaled decay. Then plucks out.
TÁR (CONT'D)
“But how strange the change/ From
major to minor.”
 —40—

She exhales, closes her eyes and smiles at a private memory.

Her eyes jolt open, she turns to see Francesca in the doorway.
FRANCESCA
I’m sorry, I knocked but no one
answered. I knew you wanted your
keys back as quickly as possible.
TÁR
Thank you. Did you use the company
card?
(Francesca nods)
Great, use it for your taxi home.
(Francesca doesn’t move)
You can go.
FRANCESCA
Um. It wasn’t just the keys... I
need... I need someone to hold me.
TÁR
This isn’t the place, Francesca.
FRANCESCA
You’re... that’s not... I just got
this from someone over at Accordion.
She offers her phone to Tár who looks at the screen.
TÁR
Oh, no... when did this happen?
FRANCESCA
Day before yesterday. That email
she sent you... it felt like--
TÁR
(cutting her off)
Delete it and the rest. No reason to
get caught up in any intrigue.
Francesca turns away, fighting emotion. Tár stands and takes
the young woman into her arms, cooing and trying to calm her.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Now, now, it’s sad, I know. But
there’s nothing we could have done
to stop her. She wasn’t one of us.
FRANCESCA
I can’t stop thinking about our
trip up the Ucayali... the three
of us were so...
TÁR
Yes, that was before she started
making demands. Something wasn’t
right with her.
 —41—

FRANCESCA
... she had so much promise.
TÁR
(steps back from her)
Yes, she did. Almost as much as you.
It’s best we forget about her. You
understand, right?
There’s an implicit threat in this last line.
FRANCESCA
I’m sorry. I know you’re working.
(leaves room)
Your keys are on the kitchen table.
Tár listens to her footfalls, then moves to her laptop
Launches MAIL, clicks SENT FOLDER, searches “Krista Taylor.”
GLIMPSE email headers from both major and minor orchestras.
CHECKERBOARD letters of inquiry with Tár’s responses: WORDS
string together to form a single damning sentence “I must warn
you of the danger to your orchestra in hiring Ms. Taylor.”
She highlights and deletes the entire list.
LATER - TÁR SOAKS IN THE SHOWER
Working something over.
IN THE GREAT ROOM NOW
Looking out at the night sky. Sharon enters, pours both some
wine, and sits.
SHARON
She went straight to sleep. I didn’t
even have to hold her foot. And she
came home in a much better mood.
TÀR
Atta girl.
SHARON
I met the new cellist today.
TÁR
What was that like?
SHARON
Olga Metkina. Russian. Strong player.
TÁR
Oh, good.
SHARON
Her facial posture is a bit much.
 —42—

TÁR
How so?
SHARON
Her legato. It looks like she’s on
the verge of climaxing.
TÁR
(sits)
Well, she’s young.
SHARON
Ah, so you’ve met her.
TÁR
Francesca mentioned something.
She’s arranging a welcome lunch.
SHARON
You may want to hold off on that.
Her invitation is conditional.
TÁR
You have reservations?
SHARON
No, not really, but we need to see
if she fits in.
TÁR
Did you take your pill?
SHARON
(stands)
No. Thank you for reminding me.
LATER
Sharon and Tár sound asleep. Three seconds of silence
followed by the tick-tock-tick-tock of 120 beats per minute.
Tár wakes, rises, and leaves the bedroom to investigate.
HALLWAY
The SOUND louder, she moves to her
HOME STUDY
Follows the sound to the pencil supply door, opens it, the
recess empty save for her METRONOME. She stops the arm, picks
up the cover to replace it, and stops when she notices
A maze-like pattern drawn in blue pencil on the inside of the
lid. The pattern inked onto the title page of the book she
received and disposed of in the airplane lavatory.
A trace of recognition crosses her eyes. She kills the light.
 —43—

IN THE TAYCAN — MOVING

TÁR
How was Johanna yesterday?
PETRA
... she stays away now.
TÁR
Let me know if that changes. Petra,
last night... were you by any chance
drawing in the closet of my study?
PETRA
No, Lydia. I’m not supposed to go
into that room without you.
TÁR
Yes... that’s right.
Tar’s eyes find the PASSENGER AIR VENT, its louvers making a
rattling SOUND. Something seems to have come loose.
FOURTH MOVEMENT. ADAGIETTO. BAR 37 TO 42
TÁR
No, no, no. It’s got to be messier.
Not so simple. It needs to sound like
violins and cellos... but also horns.
Because Mahler doesn’t give us any here.
Long bow strokes. Lots of pressure.
Her right hand holds her baton like a violin, her left index
finger acts as a bow moving across and bending it.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Forget Visconti. It’s so familiar
to everyone. It really doesn’t help
to know this piece so well.
ADAGIETTO. BAR 58 TO 64
TÁR (CONT'D)
(at Bar 60)
Nur ein kleines crescendo. Jetzt
die Terz durchlassen (Just a little
crescendo, now let the third come
through).
(stops them at 64)
Bitte Sie mussen mich anschauen.
Das ist ganz frei hier. (Please you
must watch. It’s completely free
here). It’s got to be like one
person singing their heart out...
HER EYES, for the first time, MEET with those of OLGA METKINA.
The energy immediate and electric. Bordering on uncomfortable.
 —44—

Tár, dumbstruck, averts her gaze. Sharon catches this.

TÁR (CONT'D)
... and you’re playing like an--uh,
exercise. Once again from the top of
the Adagietto.
Tár removes the band from her ponytail, shaking her hair out.
SEBASTIAN’S OFFICE
Exactly as described by Tár to Eliot: Ye Olde Curiosity Shop.
A KNOCK at the door has Sebastian look up from his lunch.
SEBASTIAN
Come in.
Tár enters and closes the door, Sebastian hurries to move his
FOOD TRAY to a side table.
SEBASTIAN (CONT'D)
Maestro, what a surprise. I was
just having a bit of lunch. Can I
offer you anything?
TÁR
No, thank you.
SEBASTIAN
Some tea, then?
TÁR
No, thank you, Sebastian.
She sits, folds her hands, uncomfortably eyes the BALLPOINT
on the table in front of him, then makes a show of taking in
the packed walls and shelves full of totems and memorabilia.
TÁR (CONT'D)
I forget sometimes how impressive
your collection is here. Is that
Kalinnikov?
He beams and moves to the shelves. She takes this opportunity
to snatch his ballpoint pen and hide it under her leg.
He hefts a SMALL BRONZE HEAD, and carries it over to her.
SEBASTIAN
Yes, isn’t he marvelous. He belongs
in a museum. I rescued him for a
hundred rubles from a Kiev street
fair back in ninety. Right after
the wall came down.
TÁR
(examines bust)
That must have really been something.
 —45—

SEBASTIAN
Oh, incredible to have lived
through it. I’d only just arrived
here with Andris. Suddenly the
impossible was possible.
TÁR
I’d like to talk about that.
SEBASTIAN
The reunification?
TÁR
No. The possibility of you fronting
a subscription orchestra.
SEBASTIAN
But I already do.
TÁR
Yes, but not as a Kapellmeister.
If not now, then when, Sebastian?
SEBASTIAN
... you mean leave Berlin?
TÁR
Well... rotate somewhere, yes.
SEBASTIAN
But... this is my home.
TÁR
Our only home is the podium. We all
live out of a suitcase. You know
that as well as anyone.
(stands to leave)
Think about it. Take you’re time.
It’s not something you need to
decide now.
SEBASTIAN
... it’s the girl, isn’t it?
TÁR
What girl?
SEBASTIAN
You’re not asking. You’re telling.
I knew as soon as she showed up that
my days here were numbered. Andris
told me not to worry, but I knew.
TÁR
I’m sure I don’t know what you’re
talking about.
 —46—

SEBASTIAN
Oh, please. Just because no one
dares breathe it, we know the things
you do! The little favors you grant.
Tár shakes her head. Looks away and feigns disappointment.
TÁR
I really don’t know what to say,
Sebastian. You, of all people, have
the temerity to question my integrity?
Sebastian looks scared. He knows he’s gone too far.
SEBASTIAN
... I’m sorry... I’m sorry,
Maestro. I don’t know what I’m
saying... I just... I just...
TÁR
No, it’s clear you know exactly
what you’re saying. And if that’s
how you really feel about me,
wouldn’t you say that staying is
entirely out of the question?
SEBASTIAN
(pleading)
Please Maestro, please forgive me.
TÁR
For what? Your obsequiousness, your
hypocrisy, your misogamy?
SEBASTIAN
I am not a misogynist.
TÁR
Mis-og-amy — a hatred of marriage.
Andris is still very much married, and
you occupy an apartment on the same
floor, don’t you?
The man looks horrified.
TÁR & SHARON’S KITCHEN
They share kitchen clean-up duties.
TÁR
I just don’t like what he’s implying.
It could lead to more than Chinese
whispers.
SHARON
I know we barely survived Der
Spiegel when you and I came out
together.
 —47—

SHARON (CONT'D)
But with Francesca no one could
point their finger, it’s not like
you two are in a relationship.
TÁR
... true. But it turns my stomach to
think that the old robot would be
right about something. I’m sure
he’s already run to Andris.
SHARON
Well, is there someone other than
Francesca you feel is more qualified?
TÁR
There are others equal to the task.
SHARON
... maybe wait to decide.
PRINCIPAL CONDUCTOR’S OFFICE — NEXT DAY
Tár looking a bit haggard, blinking her eyes to stay awake as
she shops the CAMI website for conducting and concertmaster
clients. A KNOCK at her door. She shuts her laptop.
TÁR
Yes.
Francesca enters with a FRUIT PLATE and sets it up for Tár.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Where are we with DG?
FRANCESCA
I spoke to an assistant in Boyd
Muir’s office who said they weren’t
sure why they decided on a digital-
only set... what the criteria were.
I do know they just did a full vinyl
pressing for Long Yu.
TÁR
Of course they did. The Chinese
market is incredible... alright.
Gloves off. I’m going straight to
Lucian. Maybe he needs to be reminded
about his Annenberg Inclusion Initiative.
You’ve got his contact details, right?
(Francesca nods, pulls them up)
... my machine is misbehaving. I’ve
called IT. In the meantime let me
borrow yours.
Francesca retrieves it, sets it in front of Tár, unlocks it.
 —48—

TÁR (CONT'D)
Thank you. Where’s the matcha?
Francesca hesitates for the tiniest moment, then leaves.
FRANCESCA’S SCREEN
Tár launches mail, searches “Krista Taylor.” Dozens of emails
still appear in the timeline.
Tár looks disappointed, then absolutely furious.
She’s about to quit out, but instead opens the latest email.
TÁR BOXING
Taking her frustration out on her SPARRING PARTNER’s gloves.
Working herself into a lather.
PRINCIPAL CONDUCTOR’S OFFICE
She arrives back to find Francesca on the couch texting.
A PAPER TAKE-AWAY CUP on the table in front of her.
FRANCESCA
I wasn’t sure where you were.
TÁR
(stretching)
Working out a kink.
FRANCESCA
(stands)
The matcha‘s cold. I’ll get another.
TÁR
That’s alright. I don’t need it.
Let’s keep working.
Tár takes a seat at her work table, pretends to busy herself.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Francesca. You did as I asked, and
deleted any and all correspondence
with Krista, correct?
Francesca knows that there is no safe way to answer. If she
makes an excuse, there will be pain. If she lies, and Tár has
been snooping, things will be much worse, perhaps even fatal.
FRANCESCA
I’m not sure... I’ll double-check.
TÁR
(unreadable)
Sebastian is leaving us.
 —49—

TÁR (CONT'D)
And I’m wondering if you wouldn’t
mind compiling a list of suitable
replacements?
The light leaves Francesca’s eyes. After awhile she nods.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Of course, please feel free to
include your own name.
FRANCESCA
(brightens some)
Thank you...
(smartphone tings)
Your lunch with the new cellist.
TÁR
I meant to have you reschedule that
until the orchestra votes.
FRANCESCA
I’ll text her now.
TÁR
... no wait.
(stands)
Might as well see what she’s made of.
Francesca doesn’t look the least bit surprised.
ZUR LETZTEN INSTANZ
In stark contrast to Andris’ clubby let-us-now-praise-famous-
men hang, this old world eatery has seen it all, and is not
impressed by anyone.
Tár watching Olga looking over the menu and breaking into the
unguarded smile of a child, then laughing.
OLGA
This food!
TÁR
The cucumber salad is very good.
It’s kind of the only real option at
this place if you’re a vegetarian.
Do you eat fish?
OLGA
Not really.
TÁR
We can go somewhere else. Like the
Store Kitchen. Kind of a silly
tradition that new members are
brought here to sup with ghosts of
the past.
 —50—

TÁR (CONT'D)
At some point everyone from
Napoleon to Beethoven tucked into a
meal at one of these tables.
OLGA
Yes, and Clara Zetkin.
(looks around)
... I wonder which one.
TÁR
Who’s that? A musician?
OLGA
No. She helped found social-
democratic women's movement in
Germany. And KPD until Hitler came
to power and she was exiled to
Soviet Union.
TÁR
Clara Zetkin?
OLGA
Yes. Every March eighth we place
flowers at her plaque in Kremlin
Wall Necropolis.
TÁR
Her birthday.
OLGA
(as if to a child)
No, International Women's Day.
Tár feeling outclassed by a long-dead woman, and out-educated
by the one seated across from her.
The waiter appears.
WAITER
Ready Maestro?
OLGA
(beats Tár to it)
Yes, first shashlik then veal.
TÁR
... cucumber salad. Thank you.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER
Tár watches Olga savor each bite of meat, closing her eyes,
humming to herself, her eyes open and catch Tár watching her.
OLGA
Is good. Would you like a bite?
 —51—

TÁR
No, thank you... have you lived in
Berlin long?
OLGA
No, not at all. I have friends in
Neukölln I visit until I know
decision of orchestra.
TÁR
Simonov will hold your place?
OLGA
Yes, I think so. He is my uncle.
But my dream has always been to
play with Berlin.
TÁR
Me too. There’s no place like it.
I imagine Rostropovich is a hero
of yours?
OLGA
Of course he was great, we study him
at Moscow Conservatory. But growing
up, my favorite is Jacqueline du
Pre. She made me want to play cello.
TÁR
Which record was it?
OLGA
Not record. YouTube. Elgar
Concerto.
TÁR
With Barenboim conducting the
London Philharmonic.
OLGA
I don’t know who was conducting. But
she did something to me. That’s when
I decide to learn piece and play it
with youth orchestra.
TÁR
Quite a challenge. How old were you?
OLGA
Thirteen.
TÁR
Wow... I’d love to hear it.
OLGA
(focused on next bite)
They make video. I will text to you.
 —52—

Tár watches this young woman’s impressive appetite, somewhat

envious of her utter lack of fear, and any kind of pretense.
She picks at her cucumber salad wishing for something else.
THE MOSCOW YOUTH ORCHESTRA — SEVEN YEARS AGO
The moderato leading to the cadenza of Elgar's Cello Concerto.
Downstage center sits a THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD OLGA looking very
much like a young du Pré, and like du Pré, the smiling free-
spirited intelligence displayed at lunch in stark contrast
with the single-minded ferocity of the young girl on display
here. Leaving the viewer, and Tár, somewhat breathless.
TÁR WATCHING THIS AT THE CHARLOTTENBERG APARTMENT
Her attraction transposed into a kind of awe and respect.
The moment interrupted by the muted ELECTRONIC TWO-TONE
interval heard before. Tár grimaces wondering where it’s
coming from. It stops. She looks relieved then turns her
attention back to the girl on screen. There’s a SHARP KNOCK
on the door. She looks up annoyed.
THE DOOR OPENS
To a portly pale woman dressed in a rumpled black pantsuit and
orthopedic shoes. Dirty parted-hair combed tightly to her head
around a face whose lack of exposure to the sun makes it hard to
discern whether she is 40 or 60. This is ELEANOR. Developmentally
disabled and, at the moment, extremely desperate.
TÁR
Yes?
ELEANOR (GERMAN SUBTITLED)
My mother’s paper arrives each morning
at six. It’s missing. Do you have it?
TÁR
No.
ELEANOR
This you are sure?
TÁR
(closes door)
Yes, I’m sorry.
MIDDLE OF NIGHT
Tár wakes to a TONE emanating within in the house.
IN THE KITCHEN
She moves to the refrigerator, opens the door, the tone
stops. Her back tenses. She turns
But no one’s there.
 —53—

S-BAHN TRESTLE
Running now, as if something’s behind her.
— DIMINUENDO LEADING TO THE FINAL PEDAL A OF THE ADAGIETTO —
FRANCESCA IN THE BACK OF GROSSER SAAL
Listening to the last bars of the ADAGIETTO, she appears to
have quite a bit on her mind.
ADAGIETTO. BAR 98 TO END
Tár conducting. She looks exhausted. She closes the iris.
Allows the decay, then smiles.
TÁR
Very nice indeed. Let’s leave it
here. Tomorrow we’ll begin with the
Rondo-Finale.
(players begin packing up)
Before we break, I know many of you
are curious what the companion piece
will be. I’ve been thinking quite a
bit about it and wondering if we
might take an informal poll about
possibly pairing five with the Elgar
Cello Concerto?
Tár’s eyes flick to the surprised eyes of Olga.
Then Sharon’s, who closes hers, and begins a solemn process,
followed by the other players who sit in silence.
Listening in their head, to what this might smell like. A
HAND beating time against a leg, the NOD of a head comparing
Elgar’s theme with that of Mahler’s.
Tár watching this arcane process, something timeless and yet
strange too, a kind of group hypnosis.
One smile then another. The first BOW raises, followed by a
SECOND, and THIRD. Tár watches the forest grow denser until
it’s fully matured.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Wonderful. Elgar it is. Would
anyone object if the soloist came
from within our own ranks?
THE CELLO SECTION places their attention squarely on the
First Principal Cellist GOSIA PROBOZ (45) who smiles. Bows
gently tap on music stands.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Okay, and one more question. And
this is really just for you, Gosia.
(Gosia looks up expectedly)
 —54—

TÁR (CONT'D)
As a practical matter, this task
would normally, fall to you.
(Gosia nods)
But given how much will be asked of
you for the Mahler... I wonder if
you would be at all bothered if we
were to hold auditions?
The cellist looks uncomfortable. Tár’s put her in an
impossible position. Not lost on anyone present.
GOSIA
Well, that is a bit unorthodox...
but in theory I have no objection.
My only hesitation would depend on
when these auditions might take
place. I wouldn’t want them in any
way to interfere with our sectionals.
TÁR
Good point. It must be a sprint.
How about this coming Monday?
GOSIA
... alright.
TÁR
Knut, please assemble a quorum for
Monday. All section players welcome.
Tár purposefully ignores Olga’s gaze.
Gosia catches Sharon’s eye. The two section leaders
uncomfortable with what just happened.
LATER TÁR STRIDES UP THE AISLE - 120 BPM
And greets BRITTA MENGES (55). The two have a proper and
professional working relationship.
TÁR
Britta.
BRITTA
Lydia.
(they sit)
Just caught the end.
TÁR
What do you think? How’s it sounding?
BRITTA
Fantastic. I can’t wait until the
live recording concert.
TÁR
I’ll be happy when it’s over.
 —55—

BRITTA
It’s always that way. I know you’re
busy and I don’t want to add to your
load, but Andris Davis phoned.
TÁR
He’s upset I’m rotating Sebastian.
BRITTA
No, something else. But you’ll
please let Laura know as soon as
you’ve chosen his replacement so
she can prepare a press release.
TÁR
Of course. What did he want?
BRITTA
To complain about the punctuality
of the driver he seems to believe
the board supplies him with. Do you
know anything about this?
TÁR
Yes. It’s something I pay for.
BRITTA
Then why does he believe it’s the
board?
TÁR
Because he needs to believe that.
Needs to believe he hasn’t been
forgotten, Britta. The academy has
von Karajan’s name on it. There are
love shrines to Abbado all over
this place. But the name Davis is
essentially nowhere to be seen.
BRITTA
(unhappy with the lie)
... alright. Then perhaps Francesca
could have a word with the driver.
TÁR
(stands)
Of course.
BRITTA
One other thing... it’s unpleasant.
TÁR
An operational shortfall?
(sits back down)
Must I take Mrs. Sewing out for
drinks again?
 —56—

BRITTA
No, it has nothing to do with the
orchestra. Do you remember an
Accordion Academy fellow named
Krista Taylor?
TÁR
(pretends to search)
... oh, yes. Why?
BRITTA
Apparently she committed suicide.
Tár slumps forward, as if hearing this news for the first time.
TÁR
Oh, God. Poor thing... her parents.
... wait. I’m confused, Britta.
Why have you been put in the
position to deliver this terrible
news? Why didn’t Accordion contact
me directly?
BRITTA
It’s delicate, Lydia. Mr. Kaplan
thought it might be best if you
contacted a lawyer before speaking
with anyone at Accordion.
TÁR
... presumably that “anyone”
including Eliot himself.
Why would I need to do that?
BRITTA
Apparently, some accusations have
been made.
TÁR
What kind of accusations?
BRITTA
He didn’t say. But they were
brought to Accordion’s counsel.
Mr. Kaplan said he is certain
nothing will come of it, but one
can’t be too careful.
Tár looks furious but also frightened.
PRINCIPAL CONDUCTOR’S OFFICE
Tár places a call.
TÁR
Sorry about the hour. Yes, it’s
Lydia Tár calling, I must speak
with Mr. Singer immediately...
 —57—

TÁR'S HOME STUDY - LATER

On her machine reading an obituary for Krista Taylor from the
Mount Kisko Daily Voice that includes a picture of Krista
conducting a youth orchestra at 17. Laughing. No tattoos, no
wine glass, just a baton and a heartbreaking smile. The
accompanying text reads Krista Sides Taylor, 25, died
unexpectedly on November 4 at her Murray Hill apartment.
Funeral services will be private.
LUNCH WITH ANDRIS — SAVOY HAVANA BAR
Tár exhausted, wobbly, rubs her eyes.
ANDRIS
Tired?
TÁR
Sleep is elusive.
ANDRIS
I was the same before a recording
date... Lydia, are you absolutely
certain about Sebastian?
(she nods, he frowns)
Mmm... how did he take the news?
TÁR
Not well.
ANDRIS
... who will you replace him with?
TÁR
Possibly Andrew Crust. He’s been
assisting Otto Tausk at the VSO.
ANDRIS
Not the girl?
Tár ignores the question, Andris drops it.
TÁR
... Andris? Did you ever have an issue
with a student or colleague? Where
that person...
ANDRIS TAR
Has someone been complaining Of course not.
about me?
ANDRIS (CONT'D)
Because at this point they’ve
missed their chance. I’m out of the
game. Thank God I never had to be
pulled from the podium like Jimmy
Levine...
 —58—

ANDRIS (CONT'D)
... or hunted like Charles Dutoit. I
take it you’re asking for a reason.
TÁR
There’s just been so much of this
kind of thing in the news lately.
ANDRIS
Well, nowadays being accused is the
same as being guilty. But I suppose
this was also the case many years
ago with Furtwängler and a bit with
Karajan too.
TÁR
Who was the better conductor?
ANDRIS
I never played under Furtwängler.
When I first arrived here the older
members had hushed opinions. But at
the same time they wanted to leave
that era behind.
TÁR
The war?
ANDRIS
Post-war. The denazification. If
someone pointed a finger at you,
the process started all over again.
Furtwängler never joined the Party.
Refused to give the salute, to conduct
the Horst-Wessel-Lied... or to sign
his letters with "Heil Hitler,” even
those he wrote to Hitler. But he was
required to be denazified. Until then,
he was semi-retired -- playing corpses.
TÁR
“Playing corpses?”
ANDRIS
Secretly performing in a cemetery.
TÁR
Surely you’re not equating sexual
impropriety with being an accused Nazi?
ANDRIS
Either way you have to be ready. For
years I made sure all the hangers in
my closet were facing the same
direction.
 —59—

AWAKE IN BED
Sharon reading. Tár with the hangars. After awhile.
TÁR
How many are auditioning Monday?
SHARON
No one.
TÁR
No one?
SHARON
Well, perhaps Martin who has never
gotten along with Gosia, and would
be happy to sit downstage for once.
TÁR
He will still need to audition.
SHARON
Of course. We must follow the rules.
CHAMBER HALL
The same adjudicators as before, Sharon, Knut, ANOTHER
ORCHESTRA MEMBER, and of course Tár. The four sit waiting as
Francesca hands out score sheets and pencils.
TÁR
Aren’t we being a bit formal,
Francesca? From what I understand,
there’s just one player auditioning.
FRANCESCA
No, Maestro... there are two.
TWO AUDITIONS IN MINIATURE
The first played on the faces of those in the rake. The
second PUSHING TOWARD THE STAGE like a cat stalking its prey.
The movement in sync with the long dramatic phrase leading up
to the cadenza.
The piece ends. The unseen player behind the screen departs.
Sharon, Tár and Knut are bowled over and there’s no hiding it.
MOMENTS LATER
Results in. Francesca at the ready. Sharon reading the tally.
SHARON
... well, it’s unanimous
(looks up from paper)
... and we have a problem. She’s not
officially been invited to become a
member of the orchestra.
 —60—

TÁR
She wouldn’t need be to solo for us.
KNUT
I believe the criteria for the
audition was “all section players.”
Sharon and Francesca watching closely to see if Tár will object.
TÁR
Then her audition gets thrown out.
Francesca, please ask Martin to step
back in so we can give him the news.
SHARON
... no, wait.
OUTSIDE CHAMBER HALL — LATER
The door opens, Olga emerges with the biggest smile she’s
ever had, or will have, on her face. She sprints away.
The exiting quorum, met with a HAPPY SCREAM from some recess
in the building, exchange knowing looks.
PRINCIPAL CONDUCTOR’S OFFICE
Tár arrives to find Francesca working a WHITEBOARD CALENDAR,
filling Olga’s name into Tár’s master rehearsal schedule.
FRANCESCA
I’ll confirm these dates with her.
TÁR
Good... have a seat. I’ve made a
decision regarding Sebastian’s
replacement... and I want you to
know it wasn’t an easy one. This
position brings with it enormous
responsibility, and my personal
affection for you aside, I will
have to go with someone more...
more experienced.
Stay on FRANCESCA’S FACE.
TÁR WAKES TO THE TONE AGAIN
ENTERS THE KITCHEN
Opens the door. The tone stops. She turns as if sensing
something else in the room.
BEDROOM
She falls back into bed. Knowing she won’t sleep, and
wondering how long this feeling will continue.
 —61—

CHARLOTTENBERG APARTMENT
Tár at the piano making notations. Once again the two-tone
INTERVAL SOUNDS from somewhere beyond the wall. She grimaces,
puts her hands to her ears. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK. Furious now,
she stands, strides to the door, flings it open and...
TÁR
Leave me alone. I don’t have your--
... finds Olga standing there confused by the outburst.
TÁR (CONT'D)
... I’m sorry, please come in.
LATER
Tár at the piano accompanying Olga, strikes the chords for
what would be the string pizzicatos setting up Olga’s solo.
She plays the theme until the first pianissimo (5th bar of 42).
TÁR
Good. The contrast is better now,
don’t you think?
Olga nods. She may or may not agree. This not lost on Tár.
TÁR (CONT'D)
How do you take your tea?
OLGA
Black. Strong.
(points to piano)
Is alright, I play?
TÁR
Of course.
KITCHEN
Tár sets the KETTLE on the stove, and retrieves good CHINA.
The first notes waft in from the studio. We recognize them as
the theme of the composition Tár’s been trying to write.
However, up to this point it’s been all stop-start without
hearing the thing through. Tár’s ears perk to it, she smiles
and allows herself to experience it another way. Tár drifts
BACK INTO THE STUDIO
And watches Olga play the piece with the delicacy and
sophistication of Constance Keene. It comes to an abrupt halt.
TÁR
That’s as far as I’ve gotten.
OLGA
(plays Tár’s phrase)
... is good... this part here...
 —62—

OLGA (CONT'D)
but maybe this is better...
(changes phrase)
... A to B flat... yes, that’s it..
oh, I like that sound.
She plays it again, her way, not Tár’s. Indifferent to the
power differential and the boundary line she just crossed.
Tár should banish her from the piano and her composition, but
instead finds herself turning a corner she never saw coming.
TÁR SITS ALONE IN HER CAR AT OLGA’S NEUKÖLLN BED STAY
Watching the young woman cross the street, turn, and give a
big goofy wave. Tár raises her hand and gives a tiny wave
back. Then watches Olga disappear into the building.
TÁR (PRE-LAP)
Hello!?
TÁR ARRIVES HOME
And heads into the
LIVING ROOM
To find ANGELA (80), Sharon’s strict, proper, frightening
mother sitting alone in a high-back chair KNITTING.
TÁR
Hello, Angela.
ANGELA (SUBTITLED)
(looks up, nods)
Sharon is out with her sister.
From the way they were whispering
I’d say that they’re up to no good.
The child is in its’ room.
PETRA'S BEDROOM
Tár peeks inside. No Petra. Just DOZENS of DOLLS on the floor
carefully arranged in a half-moon configuration facing a
small STOOL on top of which lies a WHITE STABILO, and a craft
table filled with drawings and clay moldings of the pattern.
TÁR
Petra?
The sound of the child humming the interval.
TÁR HEADS
Into her office. Pulls back the curtains and sees a tiny
mummy of a figure twisting in the sheers.
TÁR
Petra, what are you doing in here?
 —63—

PETRA
Hiding from her.
TÁR
Why?
PETRA
She told me to put my things in
order... but they already are.
TÁR
Yes, I see that... they’re all
ready for you.
PETRA’S BEDROOM
The two on the floor with Petra’s orchestra of dolls. Petra
handing out white pencils.
PETRA
I’m going to give everyone a
pencil.
TÁR
Everyone? They can’t all conduct
honey... it’s not a democracy.
GROSSER SAAL. ELGAR CONCERTO. FIGURE 72 TO END.
Olga tearing it up. A player possessed. Tár shuts the iris.
The TAP, TAP, TAP of bows on stands.
TÁR
Very nice. We’ll go back to the
Allegro Molto after the break.
Sharon watches Tár kneel down and shower Olga with attention.
MAN’S VOICE (PRE-LAP)
How long were you acquainted with
Ms. Taylor?
PRINCIPAL CONDUCTOR’S OFFICE
Tár sits facing a MICROPHONE on a stand across from a SMART-
LOOKING MAN taking notes.
TÁR
I’ll need to double-check with my
assistant, but cumulatively speaking,
I believe not more than a few months.
SMART-LOOKING MAN
(turns off recorder)
Thank you for the time, Maestro.
This recording will exist on a
protected server under attorney
client privilege with Mr. Singer.
 —64—

SMART-LOOKING MAN (CONT'D)

He will follow up with you to help
prepare for the deposition.
TÁR
Deposition?
SMART-LOOKING MAN
Yes, I assumed you were aware. Mr.
Singer’s office said they’d been
coordinating with your assistant.
TÁR STRIDES PAST OFFICE ASSISTANTS - 120 BPM
Tár on her mobile leaving a VM.
TÁR
Francesca, you had better get your
pretty little ass here right now!
LINA’S VOICE (PRE-LAP)
The only communication we’ve
received from Francesca...
HUMAN RESOURCES — MOMENTS LATER
Tár facing LINA GREFF (45) the orchestra’s head of HR.
LINA (CONT'D)
... was an email to my assistant in
the middle of the night, tendering
her immediate resignation. Stating
she would be in contact when she had
more details to provide.
TÁR
... what kind of details?
LINA
A new address I suppose. In the
meantime, we’ve been trying all
morning to find someone suitable to
assist you on a temporary basis.
For now perhaps your new assistant
conductor would be the right fit.
TÁR
Uh... no... he’s not available
until after the five live date.
THE TAYCAN MOVING TOO FAST
TÁR
That two-faced little bitch!
SHARON
Imagine her hurt, Lydia. That
position was thought to be hers.
 —65—

TÁR
Don’t you dare try and defend her.
ANOTHER CAR merges into their lane. TÁR LAYS on the HORN.
SHARON
I know how much you depended on her.
TÁR
She’ll come galumphing back. I have
a dumbphone like every robot. How
hard can it be to text all day?
SHARON
Please slow down.
(she doesn’t)
Slow down! Or drop me off!
THE TAYCAN PULLS TO THE SHOULDER
Sharon’s left there holding her violin case. Tár quickly
acclerates and screeches away.
OUTSIDE HUFEISENSIEDLUNG
Târ pounds on a door
TÁR
Francesca! Francesca, open up!
A BLOND CHILD, wearing a RED JACKET, in the yard next door,
stares over at Tár who tries the door, and it opens, she
MOVES INTO A HALLWAY
Flinching at the sight of a SHADOW cast against the wall from
the bedroom, the shape and sway looks as if it might be
Francesca’s hanging body.
IN THE BEDROOM
She SNATCHES a SCARF hanging from an open window dancing in
the breeze, the source of the shadow. It feels monumental in
a room that looks as if it has been hastily emptied.
HER FEET cross a floor strewn with red-pencilled PAGES. She
reaches down and grabs a few. The first has the MAZE-LIKE
DRAWING we’ve seen before scrawled across its length. The
second has something lined out and next to it written “more
lies.” The third a PROOF WATERMARKED TILE LEAF of Tár on Tár
marked with curves and arrows to form the anagram Rat on Rat.
A HAND falls on Tár’s shoulder. She turns and finds a FIERCE-
FACED WOMAN staring back at her.
FIERCE-FACED WOMAN (GERMAN SUBTITLED)
You’re trespassing, Fräulein.
 —66—

WHISPERS BUILD
From Francesca’s lips to others’ ears, then diminuendo into
the pulse of a drum, accompanied by something writhing,
replaced by a Shipibo-Konibo shaman, face adorned with a Kené
pattern, followed by a tableau of still water under the vast
Amazon rainforest. Floating on that water, the small sofa bed
of Tár’s Charlottenberg apartment with Tár asleep on it. A
spark and her chest ignites as a water-snake glides straight
towards the bed. Her hand rises and falls. She wakes to
SOMEONE POUNDING ON THE DOOR
Of the apartment, accompanied by the sound of the interval.
She quickly rises, opens the door, and finds Eleanor standing
there looking even more desperate than before.
ELEANOR (GERMAN SUBTITLED)
Come now!
She turns and flees down the hallway. Tár, in spite of
herself, follows her to the end where Eleanor waits at
AN OPEN DOOR
Then disappears inside. Tár cautiously follows her into a room
frozen in time. The furnishings, decor and telephone haven’t
changed since the 1950’s. The smell makes her cover her face.
The SOUND of the electronic TWO-TONE INTERVAL coming from the
other room draws her forward into
A LARGER SPACE where Eleanor stands looking down at the floor
where an impossibly undernourished OLD WOMAN lies naked,
wearing only a cotton-webbed GAIT BELT. Her backside, legs
and feet covered in FECES, she stares up helplessly. Eleanor
gestures to an ancient porcelain TRANSPORT COMMODE.
ELEANOR
We must transfer her.
Tár ill-equipped, somehow finds another gear.
TÁR
... it’s going to be alright,
Fräulein. I’m here to help you.
She steps forward to take the woman’s outstretched hand.
ELEANOR
Not the hand! Use the strap!
Tár squats, grabs one side of the belt, Eleanor grabs the
other, they manage to pull the woman to her feet and over to
the commode. Tár, unsure of her role now, looks away, and sees
A SMALL WHITE PLASTIC BOX adorned with “Smart Caregiver,”
blinking RED on a table, SOUNDING the two-tone warning.
 —67—

ELEANOR (CONT'D)
Go! Go now!
Tár nods and makes her way
BACK TO HER OWN APARTMENT
Strips out of her night gown. Washes off in the kitchen sink.
Looks up to the SOUND of someone POUNDING on her door. Shuts
off the water. Throws on a robe, and moves to open it. Olga,
dripping wet from the rain, rushes inside.
OLGA
Sorry I’m late again.
Olga noting the bed on the couch, and Tár’s pajamas.
OLGA (CONT'D)
You live here?
TÁR
... not normally, no.
OLGA
Do you have a towel?
TÁR
Of course.
MOMENTS LATER
Tár, now dressed, hands the young woman the towel who dries
her hair as Tár makes up the sofa bed. Their eyes meet and
they share a laugh at this awkward, almost domestic moment.
DRIVING THROUGH NEUKÖLLN — LATER
Same route. It’s drizzling again. The vent still rattling.
OLGA
There is small concert with
musician friends. You should come.
TÁR
Thank you, but I must get home.
OLGA
You have child, yes?
(Tár nods)
... I will not do that.
TÁR
Pets are better for some people.
Olga pulls a Teddy Bear from her bag, and waggles it at Tár.
 —68—

TÁR PULLS TO OLGA’S NEUKÖLLN BED STAY

Olga gives her a friendly peck, and gets out. Tár watches her
cross the street, turn, and give a big goofy wave. This time
Tár waves back. She’s about to pull out when she sees the bear
sitting on the passenger seat. She rolls down the window to
call after Olga but she disappears into the building recess.
TÁR HOLDING THE BEAR
Crosses the street and enters the building met by SOUNDS that
could be Olga SINGING Tár’s composition, the notes echoing as
casual as bird song. Tár follows the sound into an open
courtyard littered with stained mattresses, a rusted
wheelbarrow, and other detritus. The windows of every unit
boarded up, covered with tags. The Doppler effect here making
it impossible to accurately peg the direction of Olga’s voice.
SHE DESCENDS A STAIRCASE
And reaching the bottom finds herself in
A LONG CORRIDOR
Its floor pooling with water from overhead.
SHE MOVES FORWARD AND PEERS INTO
Abandoned squatter-like rooms. The singing disappears. All
she hears now is the dripping fluid.
SHE CONTINUES MOVING
Toward the other end of the corridor.
TÁR
Olga?
The SOUND of an animal SKITTERING behind her turns her
around. But the corridor is empty.
SHE CONTINUES ON
Hears the SOUND again and turns. Nothing.
SHE JUST WANTS TO GET OUT
The opposite direction from where the SOUND is coming from.
She hears it again, turns and a BLACK GERMAN SHEPHERD stares
at her from the other end. She backs away slowly, then runs.
REACHES AN OUTSIDE STAIRWAY
Bounding stairs two at a time. Her TOE CATCHES. She FACE-
PLANTS. CRACK! The SOUND like the breaking of cartilage.
 —69—

SHE RETURNS HOME

Through the kitchen, opens the freezer, retrieves an ICE
TRAY, empties it onto a DISH TOWEL and POUNDS it with a
ROLLING PIN. The foreground dirties.
Tár turns. Sharon shrieks. And for the first time we see the
damage: Tár’s right cheek completely swollen over a very
bloody eye. LaMotta after the Valentine’s Day Massacre.
KITCHEN STEPS - MOMENTS LATER
Sharon sits across from Tár trying to dress her wounds.
SHARON
Why didn’t you call the police?
TÁR
I fought. He ran. What’s to tell.
SHARON
I’ll get you something for the pain.
Sharon leaves. Petra crawls in and stares at Tár’s face.
PETRA (SUBTITLED)
... was someone mean to you?
TÁR’S
Ja.
Petra crawls onto Tár’s lap, reaches up and gently touches
the undamaged part of her face.
PETRA (SUBTITLED)
You’re the most beautiful person
I know.
THE RAIN COMES
Over the residence asleep. The Hamburg Steinway offers the
appearance of a casket containing someone lying in state.
PETRA (O.C.)
Lydia!... Lydia!
TÁR & SHARON’S BEDROOM
Tár wakes. Sits up, as she leaves we glimpse Krista in a
chair across the room staring back at her.
PETRA (O.C.)
Lydia!
Tár heads into
 —70—

PETRA'S BEDROOM
Closes the door, crawls in with Petra and tries to calm her.
PETRA
Hold my foot.
TÁR
Is that better?
PETRA
... yes.
Petra looks past Tár to the doorway, as if someone’s there.
Tár follows the child’s frightened gaze, and they embrace.
TRAUERMARSCH. 1ST MOVEMENT BAR 406. 2ND MOVEMENT BAR 1-4
She mounts the podium with her face cut and swollen and bruised.
Players look away, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.
TÁR
Alright. Give me some eyes, please.
(they look back up)
Let’s shoo the elephant from the
room. What the hell happened to her
face? Did she schedule a nose and eye
job, then decide to bail before the
surgeon finished the other half?
Her joke breaks the tension and they laugh.
TÁR (CONT'D)
I was attacked.
Sounds of concern from 100 people. Tár’s eyes meet Olga’s.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Thank you, but I’m fine really.
You should’ve seen the other guy.
Alright second movement let’s take
the transition Bar 406.
They enter on BAR 406 through first four bars of transition.
POST REHEARSAL - BLOCK K
Tár sits next to Sharon going through notes. Sharon tries to
rub Tár’s shoulder, but she flinches and pulls away.
TÁR
Don’t! It burns!
SHARON
You must see the doctor.
TÁR
He’s booked till next week.
 —71—

SHARON
I’ll call them again and tell them
how much pain you’re in.
TÁR
Let’s just finish up here.
Sharon knows not to push it. She looks up to see Olga waiting
at the top of the stairs.
SHARON
Overall, the balance feels right.
Other than a quick brush-up, we
should concentrate on the Elgar.
TÁR
You’re certain of that?
SHARON
... I think so, yes.
MOMENTS LATER
Tár, sitting with Olga now, flips pages on her score.
TÁR
I’ll try to hold them back here.
They’re getting caught up in the
power of your glissando and are
trying to match it.
OLGA
Where were you attacked, Maestro?
TÁR
It doesn’t matter.
Reaches into her bag, retrieves bear, hands it to Olga.
OLGA
Ah, thank you. There you are.
DOCTOR’S OFFICE — NEXT DAY
Tár, examined by her PHYSICIAN, flinches.
PHYSICIAN
When did you have this fall?
TÁR
I don’t know... ten days ago. You
should have seen my face. My
shoulder burns like hell. Like I
fell asleep by the pool.
PHYSICIAN
Okay, you can put your shirt back
on. You’ve damaged some nerves.
 —72—

PHYSICIAN
The burning sensation you’re
feeling is called Notalgia
paresthetica.
TÁR
Nostalgia?
PHYSICIAN
Notalgia, no s.
TÁR
How do you treat it?
PHYSICIAN
You don’t. Eventually it goes away.
An adjustment might help. You’re
somewhat crooked.
The unresolved theme of Tár’s composition leads us to the
CHARLOTTENBERG APARTMENT
The last chord decays. She nods, satisfied. Grabs a PENCIL
and on the front page signs “For Petra.” Stands, sits again,
crosses it out, and writes something else.
Her phone pings, she checks a text from Britta containing a
link. Clicks on it.
TÁR’S VOICE (O.C.)
A negro product exploited by the Jews.
A YOUTUBE VIDEO OF
Tár’s Juilliard Master Class posted on twitter tagged with
@lydiatár, aggressively edited, in the most damning way. At
least two angles here implying that there was more than one
person involved with its creation.
TÁR ON VIDEO
Now let’s turn our gaze back to the
piano bench up there and see if we
can square how any of those things
possibly relate to the person
seated before us.
Reaction shot of Max, and uncomfortable laughs from students.
TÁR ON VIDEO (CONT'D)
A super hot young woman? Now you
can masturbate.
We see a grainy blown-up iPhone video of her hand reaching
across Max’s lap at the piano bench and stopping his knee.
TAR’S VOICE (O.C.)
But what are you actually doing for me?
 —73—

Her mobile buzzes “Britta” and she answers it.

TÁR
Hello, Britta... yes, I just saw
it... this afternoon?
SHE LOCKS UP THE APARTMENT
Heads downstairs and sees a covered GURNEY being carried from
Eleanor’s apartment by two UNDERTAKERS. She pushes herself
into the corner to let them pass before following. A
frightened Eleanor appears on the landing above, for the
tiniest moment their eyes meet.
ORCHESTRA’S BOARD ROOM
She sits with Britta and board members comprised of players,
including Knut. For once she’s outnumbered.
TÁR
First of all, that class was conducted
in a tech-free zone.
She’s interrupted by the UNSCREWING of a TALL WATER BOTTLE,
followed by the FIZZY FAST POUR into a GLASS, the hard
LANDING of the bottle, then Knut draining the glass.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Second, whoever violated that rule,
edited what we’ve all seen to create
linguistic traps to completely redefine
my words. Look at the reverse shots on
the students. There’s no way those were
done in real time. It’s a hatchet job.
BRITTA
I’m sure that’s true, Lydia. And were
it just this video, we’d not be sitting
here. Unfortunately it’s linked to an
article in the New York Post regarding
Krista Taylor’s suicide...
Tár, blindsided, takes a moment to process this.
BRITTA (CONT'D)
... which alludes to other
Accordion Fellows they claim to
have interviewed. Laura? Can you
tell us about your conversations?
LAURA KIM (25) the orchestra’s publicist stands.
LAURA KIM
We haven’t had any. Obviously, we
gave no response, as we first
wanted to meet to discuss strategy.
Here’s a summary of the article.
 —74—

TÁR
Thank you, Laura.
(looks it over)
"... enticed... and groomed
multiple young women to engage in
sex acts for professional favors.
Blocked opportunities to those who
didn’t comply...” This is total
fiction!
(tosses it, forces a laugh)
The Post is a how-de-do scandal
rag. No serious person reads it.
(room stares back at her)
And so far as Krista Taylor goes,
she was disturbed, fixated on me!
MALE BOARD MEMBER
In what way?
TÁR
She sent weird gifts, trolled me on-
line, tried to send me signals...
MALE BOARD MEMBER
What kind of signals?
TÁR
Vandalizing my wikipedia page to
say that she was my “muse.”
(to Laura)
That’s easily checked, right?
Laura nods.
MALE BOARD MEMBER
Did you ever report this or file a
complaint.
TÁR
No, I probably should have... but I
felt sorry for her.
BRITTA
Is this something you’ve shared
with Sharon?
TÁR
I didn’t want to burden her with it.
BRITTA TAR
Don’t you think-- Yes, yes.
MALE BOARD MEMBER
(to Laura)
What do you advise?
 —75—

LAURA KIM
Well, for now, it hasn’t gotten all
that much traction. None of the
trades have linked to it, or called
for comment. Let’s see what happens.
MALE BOARD MEMBER
We wanted to give you as much
warning as possible, Lydia. Before
this Friday’s donor meeting.
TÁR
Unfortunately, I won’t be there.
MALE BOARD MEMBER
I’d very much advise that you are.
TÁR
I have the book launch in New York
and, apparently, a deposition.
The board, uncomfortable with her decision, exchange looks.
MALE BOARD MEMBER
We’ll fill you in upon your return.
Tár gabs her coat and leaves.
TÁR (O.C.)
Enjoy your weekend.
SHE ARRIVES HOME
Sharon looks up from her office.
TÁR
(putting on happy face)
Finished my thing today.
SHARON
Congratulations. We should go out
and celebrate.
TÁR
Can’t. Need to pack.
PETRA (O.C.)
Hi Lydia!
TÁR
Hi!
TÁR’S HOME OFFICE
She drops her composition on the table, moves over to the
performance score shelf, and stands there looking confused.
There’s an EMPTY SPACE between Mahler IV and VI.
 —76—

SHARON’S OFFICE
TÁR
Sharon? Did you see my performance
score?
SHARON
No, isn’t it on the shelf with the
others?
TÁR
No.
TÁR & SHARON'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Tár packing while on the phone with the orchestra librarian.
TÁR
You’re sure it’s not in my office?
What about the orchestra library?
Can you look again please?
PETRA'S BEDROOM — LATER
Petra asleep, Tár holding her foot, releases it, and turns
off the lamp.
PETRA
Lydia?
TÁR
Yes.
PETRA
When will you come back?
TÁR
The day after tomorrow.
PETRA
You promise?
TÁR
Yes. I promise.
TXL PRIVATE HANGAR — DAWN
A uniformed FLIGHT ATTENDANT takes Tár’s CARRY-ON BAG as she
ascends a gangway to a G550.
INSIDE THE AIRCRAFT — MOMENTS LATER
The same flight attendant brings her a GLASS of water.
TÁR
Do you have any bottles?
 —77—

FLIGHT ATTENDANT
Of course. Do you need anything
else before I close the cabin door?
TÁR
Yes, we’re waiting on one more.
TÁR IN THE BACK OF A BLACK SUV
Moving through mid-town Manhattan.
VOICE (PRE-LAP)
To all of my questions pertaining to
your communications with Krista Taylor
and others, your answers have been 'I
don't know,' or 'I don't remember.’
TÁR AT A CONFERENCE TABLE
Seated behind a MIKE next to MARTY SINGER. Both facing
COUNSEL FOR THE TAYLOR FAMILY, and the COURT REPORTER.
TAYLOR FAMILY COUNSEL
Is there anything I could show you
that might refresh your recollection?
Any document such as emails from you,
or your personal assistant Ms.
Lentini, that might help you recall
what you did and didn’t say?
ELIOT KAPLAN’S OFFICE
Tár steps in. Eliot gets to his feet. No greeting. No
handshake. This is all business, and they both know it.
ELIOT
Guess you know by now that Bryant
Park bumped you to 53rd Street.
(hands her sheet of paper)
The Kaplan Fund’s prepared
statement. I’m sorry to say that
this will likely be the last time
we see each other.
TÁR
Well, now I can book my own plane
tickets, and you can bother someone
else to try and teach you how to
crawl to the podium.
THE SUV TRAVELING SOUTH ON FIFTH
Tár & Olga in back. They turn onto 53rd and pull in front of
the library, Tár noting the outdoor advertising Eliot
promised, along with DOZENS OF YOUNG MEN & WOMEN beating
drums, sounding horns and holding signs emblazoned with
“JUSTICE FOR KRISTA!” and “LISTEN TO THE SURVIVORS!”
 —78—

Tár, unnerved, looks to a seemingly oblivious Olga glued to

her smartphone, and leans forward to the driver.
TÁR
Is there a back entrance?
TÁR BEHIND A MIKE
Reading from her book in the small area off rare books room.
TÁR
“The link between music and language is
what makes music unique to human beings--
Her eyes find Olga in the back flirting with a young man.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Indeed, the common metaphors used
to explain music are based on the
idea that music is a language...
albeit a secret one, and in this
way, holy and unknowable. These
joyful noises we make being the
closest thing any of us might ever
experience to the divine...
Snide TEXTS fly OVER her IMAGE: “trotted out metaphor saw and
divinity bit--fuck me if she uses the word ‘allegory.’”
TÁR (ON SMARTPHONE SCREEN)(CONT’D)
... yet something born by the mere
act of moving air...”
CARLYLE HOTEL ELEVATOR
Tár and Olga ascend with the uniformed operator who smiles.
THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPEN
Olga and Tár step off.
TÁR
Meet downstairs for dinner, in say
thirty minutes?
OLGA
Thank you, but I am jet lag.
I go to sleep now.
TÁR
(hides disappointment)
Of course. I’ll probably do the same.
 —79—

SOMETIME LATER
On her machine searching her name on twitter and hearting a
post accompanied by a picture of her “wonderful talk by the
great Lydia Tár.” She scrolls to the next “@Tár and her fresh
meat” above a phone clip of she and Olga rushing together
into the library entrance with one of the protestors yelling
“If you’re her new girlfriend, you better watch out honey!”
Her mobile rings “Sharon,” she silences it. A moment later
the room phone rings. She ignores it. Finally it stops.
She closes her machine. Moves to her bag, hunts a beta-
blocker, moves to the minibar looking for water, nothing.
TÁR
(picks up house phone)
How long would it take to get a
bottle of water? ... no, that’s
alright, I’ll just run down.
She crosses the room, opens the door, and steps out in time
to see Olga disappear back into the elevator for a night out.
OLGA (O.C.)
Lobby please.
BATTERY TUNNEL — TOWNCAR ON THE MOVE — EARLY MORNING
Tár watches a completely absent Olga texting.
TÁR ARRIVES HOME
And begins turning off the lights. Moves to kill the last,
senses someone there, and turns. It’s Sharon.
TÁR
Jesus!
Sharon silent. The moment freighted. Tár moves to attack.
TÁR (CONT'D)
It was Britta, right? That is how
you heard about these millennial
robots trading in lies.
SHARON
(calm)
I could care less about the
Juilliard thing.
TÁR
She has too much time on her hands.
She’s fringe, the worst kind...
(on the move)
Every time I walk out of this house
she’s in your ear with intrigue.
 —80—

TÁR'S HOME STUDY

She pulls performance scores from her shelves, dropping them
on the floor in a panic.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Or asking me about some other
piece of fringe like Samantha
Hankey. A nobody who has nothing
better to do than drop my name at
lunch and imply things.
SHARON
(arrives in doorway)
I feel sorry for you.
TÁR
Save it.
SHARON
I tried calling you last night. Did
you have fun with her?
TÁR
... my back is killing me.
(brushes past her)
Francesca left. And I simply needed
someone to carry my bags. Who was I
supposed to ask to go with me, Knut?
SHARON
(calmly follows)
There are many things I accept
about you, and in the end I’m sure
I could get over something like
this. But that’s not we’re talking
about, is it?
Tár busies herself in their private rooms, as if the
conversation is over. Sharon watches her from the library.
SHARON (CONT'D)
These accusations from the parents
of the girl who suicided?
This stops Tár cold, who for the first time realizes the
extent of what Sharon knows.
TÁR
... you honestly believe what
they’re saying... they’re lies.
She moves back into the other room, teeters, sits, and drops
her head into her hands, trying to decide her next move.
 —81—

SHARON
Do you understand what it was like
to walk into my sectional yesterday
and see people whispering about me?
It’s got nothing to do with what
they’re accusing you of — it’s a
simple matter of not warning me that
our family is in danger...
TÁR
(with contempt)
What good would that have done?
What could you possibly do to make
things better?
Sharon kneels down to Tár’s level, face-to-face now.
SHARON
(with equal contempt)
Because I deserve that! Those are
the rules. You are to ask for my
fucking council the way you always
have. The way you did when you first
arrived here as a guest conductor
looking for a permanent position.
You asked, what were the politics,
what were the moves --- How could we
swing it? Of course, those discussions
took place in another bed. Or rather,
on the couch of that horrible place
you still can’t let go of.
TÁR
Ah, the old sorrow blows in...
how cruel of you to define our
relationship as transactional.
SHARON
There’s only one relationship
you’ve ever had that wasn’t, and
she’s sleeping in the room next
door...
(stands and moves off)
Apparently this hasn’t even
crossed your mind.
ORCHESTRA PARKING GARAGE
She pulls into her reserved space, is about to climb out but
stops when she sees three BOARD MEMBERS and Andris talking
next to a car ten spaces down. Tár curious why Andris would
be among them. Seeing her too now, they quickly disperse.
ORCHESTRA CONFERENCE ROOM
Tár enters to a packed house. Upon seeing her, thirty-five
people in noisy conversation suddenly go silent and stare
back at her with stone cold faces. She knows that this is it.
 —82—

GROSSER SAAL. SECTION K.

Quasimodo staring down at the stage. Tár removed from the
players running a sectional below, their mocking shared laugh
might very well be at her expense.
CHARLOTTENBERG APARTMENT STAIRCASE
Huffing and puffing, Tár struggles to drag her LUGGAGE up the
five flights of stairs.
REPEATS HER DOOR RITUAL
Candles and breath. Blows out the match and falls into an in-
between place where the specter of Krista Taylor envelops her
in a fashion that appears to cause her fear and great pain.
SHE WAKES ON THE SOFA BED
BOXES ALONE WITH A HEAVY BAG
SPRINTS BENEATH THE S-BAHN TRESTLE
Sees something and begins to slow. Wild post after wild post
of she and Mahler, more than tagged, vandalized. Her face
painted over with large red x’s and other forms. She catches
her breath and rips one of the posters from the wall.
TÁR PARKED OUTSIDE PETRA’S SCHOOL
Watching parents at pick-up, quickly heads over to Petra.
We stay in the car watching as Sharon approaches Tár. Body
language clear. Tár is not welcome. Sharon leads Petra away.
CHARLOTTENBERG APARTMENT
Tár flattened by the turn of events sits on her daybed
holding her head in her hands, mumbling to herself. A SHARP
KNOCK ON THE DOOR makes her look up.
THE DOOR OPENS
To ANNA FRANZEN, a woman who in every respect, other than
complexion and wardrobe, could be Eleanor’s twin.
ANNA
Hello, I am Anna Franzen. My late
mother’s apartment is down the hall.
TÁR
I’m so sorry about your mother.
ANNA
Thank you.
TÁR
How is your sister doing?
 —83—

ANNA
Eleanor lives now in a
facility, in Neukölln.
Anna joined now by her HUSBAND and their ESTATE AGENT.
ANNA (CONT'D)
I’m sorry to trouble you. But my
husband and I are selling the place.
And couldn’t help hearing the music.
TÁR
I’m glad you enjoyed it.
ANNA
... yes.
HUSBAND
We were wondering if there are
specific hours you rehearse so we
can schedule showings around them.
ESTATE AGENT
We don’t want to scare potential
buyers off with all the noise.
A MAD RACKET
From off-camera. Tár enters playing a weird tune on an
accordion. Singing. Or rather screaming. She looks happy,
maniacally so.
TÁR
Apartment for sale! Apartment for
sale. Your mother’s buried deep,
and now you’re going to keep!
Her apartment for sale. Your
sister’s in jail. You put your
sister in jail. You’re all going to
Hell. Your apartment’s for sale!
CONCERT-GOERS CLIMB LOBBY STAIRS
On their way to the hall. We see ushers unlock the doors and
the first audience members head to their seats. Among them
are Andris & Sebastian.
BALCONY RECORDING BOOTH
Harald & Christian at their stations. Harald, watching the
monitors, cues his assistant. Through the booth windows and
on monitors we see the house lights dim.
FROM THE STAGE RIGHT DOOR FORMALLY ATTIRED PLAYERS ENTER
To loud applause that carries over into
 —84—

AN EMPTY BACKSTAGE BATHROOM

Tár’s shoes appear beneath a stall door. Thunderous APPLAUSE
swells, the kind reserved for a star conductor.
STAGE RIGHT WING
The FIRST TRUMPET PLAYER stares at a MONITOR, empties his
spit valve. The applause finally dies down, he lifts his
horn, and readies for the downbeat of the funeral march.
—TA-TA-TA-KAA— —TA-TA-TA-KAA—
—TA-TA-TA-KAAAA—
Tár breaks frame, just far enough behind the player that he
can’t see her. She stares out the open door to the stage.
—TA-TA-TA-KAA— —TA-TA-TA-KAA—
—TA-TA-TA-KAAAA—
Her expression not unlike the beginning. Wincing, frowning,
grimacing. Eyes filling and spilling with unbridled rage.
THE ORCHESTRA ENTERS. SO DOES TÁR
Striding ONSTAGE, picking up SPEED to the PODIUM, and body
SLAMMING into Eliot Kaplan knocking him off the podium and
chevron and also knocking the wind out of him.
MUSIC comes to an ABRUPT HALT. SOUNDS of SHOCK followed by
uncomfortable urgent MURMURS.
Tár straightens, steps to the podium, and LIFTS her BATON.
TÁR
Alright. Give me some eyes. From
the top.
The players, embarrassed, look away. Sharon goes white.
ELIOT (O.C.)
... Lydia.
The mere sound of this voice makes Tár even more furious.
ELIOT (CONT'D)
(finds his feet)
Lydia, you’re confused
He reaches for her arm, she BACKHANDS him ACROSS THE FACE.
And he falls again to the stage. She leaps from the podium.
TÁR
This is my score!
(kicks him in ribs)
My score!
 —85—

TÁR (CONT'D)
(kicks him again)
You fucking little...
(kicks him in the face)
... nothing!
STAFF SECURITY rush out from stage L & R, and pull her away,
but she still manages to get one last kick in.
She’s spent now. Doesn’t fight her keepers. Like someone
staggering away from a gruesome car accident.
TÁR
I’m fine, I’m fine.
Olga frozen. Sharon too. Knut leans forward with a pencil and
draws the sign of the cross on the last measure played.
INSIDE THE BATTERY TUNNEL
Chasing a LIVERY CAR.
LATER - PASSING LINCOLN CENTER
Tár in the backseat. Driver speaking Pashto into his MOBILE.
She gazes out the window as a pick-up hauling a PortaJohn
passes. The driver’s hand holding a PEN & PAD breaks frame.
DRIVER (O.C.)
Please sign the CAMI voucher.
5 COLUMBUS CIRCLE
Tár at rear of the car. The driver pops the trunk and grabs
her bag. Towering above them a pile driver pounds its tempo.
COLOMBIA ARTISTS MANAGEMENT RECEPTION
Tár sits waiting her turn, along with a cellist who can’t be
older than twelve.
MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Now normally, I’d think Lisa Rich
in our booking department would be
a great fit for you...
CORY BERG’S OFFICE
Tár sits across from CAMI President and CEO, CORY BERG, flanked
by lieutenants SHANNON, KRISTINE, WILLIAM, STEFANA, and JAKE.

CORY BERG (CONT'D)

... but she’s got too much on her
plate. So I’d like to team you with
Jake here. Jake you want to show
Lydia what you’ve prepared for her.
 —86—

JAKE
Well, right now it’s a reset. What
we’re after is less, not more. We
want to be selective, and rebuild
this from the ground up. That means
we need a new story.
A BACKSEAT VIEW
Traveling Cannon Avenue in Staten Island into a small-lot pre-
war neighborhood of UTILITY POLES wrapped in RED, WHITE & BLUE
RIBBONS, curbs parked with PANEL VANS & PICK-UP TRUCKS.
TÁR STANDS WITH HER BAG
At the door of a paint-faded two-story. Tries the door,
locked. Squats down, lifts a GNOME, and finds the extra KEY.
INSIDE
The place is tidy and, like Eleanor’s mother’s apartment,
hasn’t changed much since before Tár was born. The SPINET
PIANO and its bench now used for POTTED PLANTS, KNICK-KNACKS
and poorly composed PHOTOS.
SHE ENTERS A BEDROOM FROZEN IN TIME
Music notation-themed wallpaper, keyboard bedspread, MUSIC
STAND gathering dust, FRAMED SCHOOL AWARDS for LINDA TARR.
She steps to a WALL MIRROR sandwiched with TWO SNAPSHOTS:
A two-year-old Tár holding a toy accordion, and a ten-year-
old black-eyed Tár holding a hockey stick.
She opens the closet, slides late-80’s outfits to one side,
and squats down to find SIX SHOE BOXES covered in colored
paper, labeled in Magic Marker in the block letter style of
an eight-year-old child: “Sundries,” “Cash,“ Passport, ”My
IRA,” “Jewelry,” and finally, “Little Toys.”
She smiles then looks up to a SHELF with 53 carefully labeled
VHS’s of each and every CBS Young People’s Concerts.
TCHAIKOVSKY’S SYMPHONY NO.5 ACCOMPANYING A SCENE
Unimaginable today: eager boys and girls in neat sport coats
and pretty dresses seated in Carnegie Hall, their attention
glued to the man in front of them conducting the NY Phil. The
microphone attached to his lapel picks up his passionate
grunts and groans as he sways and moves like a dancer, a
boxer, Lear screaming at the sky. He brings the music to a
rousing crescendo, then quickly grabs his handkerchief, mops
his face and turns to the young audience, who applaud. The
man’s charm is like that of an ideal dinner guest: brilliant,
frighteningly articulate, warm, funny and wise.
 —87—

LEONARD BERNSTEIN
Didn’t you feel triumphant? Now we
can really understand what the
meaning of music really is. It’s
the way it makes you feel when you
hear it. Finally we’ve taken that
last giant step and we’re there, we
know what music means... and we
don’t have to know a lot of stuff
about sharps and flats and chords
and all that business in order to
understand music. If it tells us
something. And the most wonderful
thing of all, is that there’s no
limit to the different kind of
feelings music can make you have.
And some of those feelings are so
special, and so deep, that they
can’t even be described in words.
You see we can’t always name the
things we feel. Sometimes we can.
We can say we feel joy, pleasure,
peacefulness, whatever, love, hate.
But every once in a while, we have
feelings that are so deep, and so
special that we have no words for
them.
CLOSE ON TÁR remembering the effect this first had on her.
LEONARD BERNSTEIN
And that’s where music is so
marvelous. Because music names them
for us. Only in notes, instead of
words. It’s all in the way music
moves. You must never forget that
music is movement. Always going
somewhere. Shifting and changing,
and flowing. From one note to
another. And that can tell us more
about the way we feel than a million
words can. Now here we’re going to
play you a--
Tár starts to a DOOR slam. She stops the tape and moves to
THE LANDING
Looks down and sees her brother TONY TARR, a ropey-looking 55-
year-old man, going through the mail.
TÁR
Hello?
He looks up the stairs, and squints at her.
TÁR (CONT'D)
Tony? Is that you?
 —88—

TONY
Oh, hi Linda -- sorry, Lydia. Ma
said you’d be over. You must be
hiding out.
She’s silent. Wondering how much he knows. Probably a lot.
TÁR
Why would I be hiding out?
TONY
Beats the hell outta me. None of my
business anyhow.
(back to sorting mail)
Lotta loose ends. You gotta admit.
TÁR
Whatta you mean?
TONY
Well, like I said, it ain’t my
business... but you don’t seem to
know where the hell you came from, or
where you’re going.
Tár must admit to herself that Tony does have a point.
EASTERN & OCCIDENTAL STATION
Tár hauls her luggage down a lonely train platform.
MAKATI HOTEL ROOM
Tár opens the curtain and stares out at a new world.
CAUGHT IN THE RAIN NOW
Outside a DOOR manned by a GUARD holding an ASSAULT RIFLE.
TÁR
May I come inside?
UNIFORMED GUARD
You have identification?
IN A SMALL ROOM
She sits across from THREE eager-looking MEN & WOMEN who
speak Tagalog amongst themselves, then turn back to her.
MPO WOMAN
Sorry about that... we just wanted
to confirm...that the composer was
in fact not flying in from Osaka to
attend the concert.
 —89—

TÁR
I searched the music libraries for
her score but wasn’t able to find
anything.
MPO Woman motions to an ASSISTANT who steps forward with the
SCORE and hands it to Tár.
MPO WOMAN
This only just arrived.
TÁR
(somewhat chirpy)
Oh, that’s great.
Before she can crack it open, two young people, SHIRLEY &
CIRIO step forward and present Tár with a FLORAL GIFT BASKET.
TÁR
Thank you so much.
MPO WOMAN
Shirley and Cirio will be most
happy to show you the sights of our
beautiful country.
IN A JEEPNEY - MOVING
Shirley, Cirio and Tár in back traveling past a salvage yard.
Tár staring at a little girl seated across from her, in
another life the child’s smiling eyes could belong to Petra.
MOVING DOWN THE BUMBUNGAN RIVER
In a LONGBOAT with Shirley and Cirio. Tár, not dressed for
the humidity, rolls up her sleeves and undoes buttons.
TÁR
Maybe we could stop for a bit and
take a swim.
CIRIO
Yes, but not here. At the waterfall.
TÁR
Why? Something wrong with the water?
CIRIO
No, there are crocodiles.
TÁR
Oh. I didn’t think they’d be this
far inland.
CIRIO
They escaped from a Marlon Brando
movie.
 —90—

TÁR
Wow... that was a long time ago.
CIRIO
They survive.
MAGDAPIO FALLS
Tár, now in the water inside Devil’s Cave, looks past the
misty three-drop curtain to the two youngsters splashing and
playing on the other side. She can’t help but feel old.
TWO-STAR MAKATI HOTEL — LATER
She’s dropped off and made to walk past a CAB STAND where
GROUPS OF MEN direct loud sucking sounds in her direction.
FRONT DESK — MOMENTS LATER
She stands waiting while the man finishes a call in Tagalog.
CONCIERGE
(hangs up, hands her sack)
Here is the prescription you asked
us to fill. Would you prefer to pay
cash or put the charge on your room?
TÁR
Cash. Would it be possible to book
a massage? I was hoping it might
help me with this jet lag.
CONCIERGE
There is a very nice place I know.
TÁR STANDS AT ANOTHER RECEPTION DESK
Counting out pesos to the woman behind it.
RECEPTIONIST
Please step over to the fishbowl.
TÁR
The fishbowl?
The woman gestures for Tár to step over to a large marbled-
looking plate glass window.
Tár stares into a so-called fishbowl containing 30 LIGHT-
SKINNED GIRLS, hands clasped, heel sitting upon a half-moon
tiered rake, all smiling at the floor. All dressed in white
cotton robes embroidered with individual RED NUMBERS.
TÁR
I’m confused. How does this work?
 —91—

The receptionist comes out from behind the counter.

RECEPTIONIST
Pick a number.
TÁR
Pick a number?
Tár stares at the seating arrangement, noting the similarity
to that of a small chamber orchestra. Her right hand lifts,
almost as if conducting, her eyes drift to number 5, whose
eyes find hers. The foreground dirties.
RECEPTIONIST’S VOICE
Number Five?
Tár turns back, her face fills with horror, and she flees
OUTSIDE SPA
Lurches forward into the street, falls to her knees and vomits.
HOTEL HALLWAY — NEXT MORNING
SOUND of a VACUUM. She strides past ROOM after OPEN ROOM
revealing HOUSEKEEPING STAFF changing dirty sheets in each.
REHEARSAL SPACE
She stands on a podium fronting a YOUTH ORCHESTRA.
TÁR
Good morning. Now before we begin.
Let’s talk a bit about the
composer’s intent with this piece.
And what she might be after.
STREET RESTAURANT — NIGHT
Tár seated at a table with a simple meal. Studying the score.
Conducting passages with a TOOTHPICK.
DRESSING ROOM — LATER
Tár in front of a mirror dressed in a simple black suit,
beating time, turning pages. Her hand finds a prescription
bottle. She lifts it, as if making a decision.
The STAGE MANAGER knocks.
STAGE MANAGER
Five minutes, Maestro.
SHE WALKS A LONG HALLWAY
Repeating her ritual from the beginning of brushing off both
shoulders.
 —92—

STANDS IN THE WINGS

Breathing heavily. Collecting herself for what’s to come. A
FOLLOW SPOT hits the wall beyond her. She inhales, steps into
it, and walks onstage to a SMATTERING OF APPLAUSE. Gestures
to the youth concertmaster - Shirley - who receives BIGGER
APPLAUSE. The stage manager hands Tár a click track HEADSET.
TÁR
Thank you.
She puts it on, finds her posture, and is made to wait while
THREE MOVIE SCREENS lower behind the orchestra, arriving to
even LOUDER APPLAUSE.
The LIGHTS DIM. She gives the downbeat. The orchestra enters
as the screens fill with flapping medieval tapestries from
the high fantasy game MONSTER HUNTER. A HYPER-MASCULINE VOICE
drowns the music.
HYPER-MASCULINE VOICE
Sisters and brothers of the fifth
fleet, it’s time. I’ll keep my farewell
brief——never was much with words.
MOVE up the aisles. Row after row of Filipinos in RPG gack.
HYPER-MASCULINE VOICE (CONT'D)
Once you board this ship, there is no
turning back. The next ground your feet
touch will be that of the New World.
A cosplayed audience of "Gajalaka" coupled with "Hunters" and
dragons and dangerous-looking unicorns stare back at us.
HYPER-MASCULINE VOICE (CONT'D)
If any of you have lost your nerve, then
step away now and let no one judge you.

— MEMENTO MORI —