Michelle Yeoh, Cate Blanchett, and Art Beyond Awards

The end is nigh for awards season—the 95th Academy Awards this coming Sunday will cap off months of campaigning and prognosticating. Guilds, critic groups, and various entertainment organizations have bestowed their honors. Each occurrence ushered in new theories on what it means for someone’s Oscar chances. One of the most closely watched and considered races this season has been for Best Actress. Putting aside the Andrea Riseborough of it all, conversations have calcified around whether Cate Blanchett for TÁR or Michelle Yeoh for Everything Everywhere All at Once will hoist the little gold man. The shame of that framing, as happens every year, is that it turns monumental work into a horse race. The focus shifts to pitting artists against each other. Stepping back from that feverish debate allows us to cut back to the work at hand.

It’s hard to imagine characters further removed from one another than Yeoh’s Evelyn Wang and Blanchett’s Lydia Tár. Evelyn, at least at first, is a frazzled business owner trying to manage her taxes. Not to mention tensions with her husband Waymond (Ke Huy Quan), and daughter Joy (Stephanie Hsu). From there, the film’s multiversal lynchpin means a variety of Evelyn’s sally forth. Comparatively, Tár’s position as one of the world’s pre-eminent conductors and composers envelops her in the rarified realm of an internationally renowned figure. Of course, that is until her mistreatment of former protégé Krista Taylor (Sylvia Flote) brings her power-abusing past to bear. Some of the Evelyns we glimpse may closer resemble Tár. Yet, the central figures that Yeoh and Blanchett embody are drastically different. Resultantly, their performances are, to invoke Tár’s profession, distinct compositions. 

Carrying that metaphor onward, Yeoh’s work is akin to the theme and variation structure beloved by the likes of Bach, and Brahms. The basic concept is that a composer introduces a main theme. Then, they subsequently remodel that theme into a series of refracted variations. These variations may launch far afield of the initial point, or simply reimagine a musical phrase here and there. Yeoh does exactly this with Evelyn. Her opening scenes establish the baseline character traits and biographical details that persist. No matter how gonzo the Evelyn variations that writer-directors Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert imagine, Yeoh anchors each to the feelings introduced early in her performance. As the Daniels braid the many strands together, Yeoh’s chameleonic work coalesces into one ultimate vision of who Evelyn is, no matter the universe. The film simply would not work without Yeoh’s breathtaking range and relative steadiness. 

By contrast, Blanchett’s vision of Tár is the darkest of sonatas. The sonata form is composed of multiple movements, each a musically and thematically distinct passage that nonetheless ties together with the whole. Possibly the most well-known example would be Beethoven’s “Piano Sonata No. 14” a.k.a. “Moonlight Sonata.” Whereas there are many Evelyns, there is only one Lydia Tár. Blanchett shepherds through a titanic fall from grace that, if we stick with the Beethoven touchpoint, channels the great works. We meet Tár in a state of grace—the adagio of Beethoven’s piece. She is about to complete her Mahler cycle. As she reveals herself in an electric classroom scene and truths come out all around her, the anxiety and intensity increase—we’ve cued the allegretto. Before long, the seams split and Tár tumbles into the darkest night of her soul—presto agitato. Under writer-director Todd Field, Blanchett masters each movement. 

Yeoh and Blanchett’s performances moor two films that have a great deal of intellectual and emotional stakes baked into them. Films such as these can get away from their creators, slipping off into the realm of a well-meaning misfire. While there is an incredible amount of artistry and creativity that ensures both TÁR and Everything Everywhere All at Once remain far away from that fate, Blanchett and Yeoh are the fundamental components that all else revolves around. TÁR is the quintessential tragedy, while Everything Everywhere All at Once blossoms into classical comedy. Every choice Yeoh and Blanchett make seals those tones and arc into place, allowing the cast and crew around them to deliver the goods without fear of the center losing hold. In that way, both performances are miraculous endeavors pulled off by actresses who are singularly gifted with the skills to realize them. 

Awards are fun. They are a chance to root for films and people that we feel connected to and care about. Unfortunately, they are also used as an excuse for vitriol. A chance to degrade one piece of art in favor of elevating another. Blanchett and Yeoh are no exception. Both women have faced a season of voices working to tear one down so the other may prevail. What that attitude viciously impedes is the chance to trumpet the power of both these performances and ensure they are celebrated and remembered. TÁR and Everything Everywhere All at Once will not simply poof out of existence once awards season sunsets, and what Blanchett and Yeoh have accomplished does not degrade because of an award. Let that be the bottom line.