“Tár” is one of those movies you simply have to see. I can’t guarantee you’ll like it — I’m not even certain if I would use that word to describe my own feelings — but it’s a must-see for multiple reasons. 

It’s a provocative film that will make you think differently about lots of issues, from the misuse of power to the so-called cancel culture, and a film that every sophisticated Manhattanite will be talking about at every chi chi cocktail party between now and Oscar night. Also, you have to see it because maybe then you can explain to me what it’s all about.

It’s a confusing film, even a maddening one, but ultimately it’s spellbinding and raises far more questions than it answers. 

The simplest outline is that Cate Blanchett plays Lydia Tár, a fictional protegee of the late Leonard Bernstein who, as the American-born conductor of the Berlin Phil, is one of the powerhouse mega-celebrities of the classical music world. The movie begins with her speaking at the New Yorker Festival with a buddy of mine, Adam Gopnik, who plays himself. He interviews her with the same tone of reverence that he used in his one-on-one discussion with Stephen Sondheim or that David Remnick did with Bruce Springsteen.

Ms. Tár describes herself as a “U-Haul lesbian”; she has a wife, who is also her first violinist, and the two have an adopted Syrian daughter, Petra. Her relationship with the young girl is presented as uncompromised — the only one in Ms. Tár’s life — yet even there she displays what might be construed as an abuse of power. When Petra complains of being bullied at school by a bigger girl, Ms. Tár bullies the bully into leaving her alone. 

This incident is perhaps the only admirable example of how Ms. Tár metaphorically “conducts” not only the musicians in the sections but everything and everyone in her life: She manipulates all in her circles both on- and off-stage, and also has seemingly set up personal entanglements with a succession of young women. Eventually she loses control and it all comes back to bite her, whereupon she receives karmic retribution for her abuses. That’s as much as I’ll tell you.

On the undisputedly positive side, there’s Ms. Blanchett’s phenomenal performance — if she doesn’t get yet another Oscar, I’ll eat my baton.  She dominates every single scene like the alpha predator she’s portraying, and never misses a beat. It’s also a splendiferous depiction not just of the world of symphonic music but of the passion of it. All the references to composers both living and otherwise are genuine, and all the descriptions of the music and what it means ring true.  

In her interview with Mr. Gopnik, Ms. Tár talks about how the whole creative process comes out in rehearsals, how she shapes a work of music from the page to the stage in a way that the terms “dynamics” and “tempo” barely begin to describe. The scenes of her conducting — with body language even more exaggerated than that of Maestro Bernstein — are gripping and compelling. (I can only say that as a jazz fan, I’m jealous: There’s never been a movie that comes anywhere near this close to the truth of the music.) 

There’s also a scene where she takes a student to task for denouncing Bach, essentially for reasons of “white privilege,” claiming he can’t relate to a straight, white, dead patriarch. She tells him this is nonsense, but ultimately (another spoiler) gets punished for it.

“Tár” violates conventional mainstream film narrative form in many profound ways.  Having just watched “See How They Run” and “Amsterdam” (both recommended), we’re familiar with the usual custom of setting up what at first seem to be random incidents in the first half of the screenplay and ultimately resolving them closer to the end. “See How They Run,” which is an homage to the mystery story form of Agatha Christie, does this particularly well. “Tár,” though, offers dozens of vignettes that are never explained: In the first few minutes, there’s some business where Ms. Tár seems to be messing around with her partner’s prescription medications. This is never brought up again, so we never learn exactly what she was doing or to what end.  

Anyone trying to keep a list of those unresolved detours will run out of paper and ink long before the 158-minute running time is finished. This is perhaps exactly what writer-director Todd Field is trying to accomplish.

Ideally, catch the movie with a group of friends at about 6 p.m. Then, when it’s over, you can grab a drink somewhere and continue discussing “Tár” into the wee hours. At least, that’s what I did.