Lydia Tàr
The first week of Lydia Tár at the philharmonic of Berlin was chaotic, lots of people talking here and there, and for the first time in her life, she felt nervous, really nervous, she's not very fluid at German, thankfully the majority of people at the philharmonic speaks in English, and actually her German is not that bad. she'd never felt worried or anxious before, she is so full of herself, everything anyone would want, she's intelligent, talented, charismatic, powerful and last but not least; attractive.
When she entered the big orchestra hall the first the first thing she noticed was that the place was big, really big, eye-catching, she was eager to direct there. Her assistant director, Andris Davis greeted her at the entrance, with a friendly smile "Ms. Tár? I am Andris Davis your new assistant director" this man is like a robot she thought while he was walking her through the philharmonic and to her mentor's office. Sebastian Brix.
When she first saw the Orchestra and meet everybody, there was someone who caught her eye, Sharon Goodnow, the first violin.
If there is anyone in Berlin more self-confident than Lydia Tár, it is Sharon, but Sharon is not arrogant, she's just sat there, playing softly with the strands of her violin, without make a sound, or a face; while Lydia was talking, she slightly saw Sharon with the corner of the eye, and she had to stopped and concentrate her view just in her. And it's really understandable, Sharon is beautiful, her fluffy blonde hair, tied up in a little ponytail, her nose, a little elongated and slightly drooping; her lips are full and large very kissable, her teeth are a little bit crooked, and look pretty when she smiles; Lydia only has seen her smile once, but she is completely sure that she will make her smile more.
Lydia stood at the podium, the orchestra laid out before her, but her gaze kept drifting to Sharon. The first violinist, as graceful as she was composed, held her violin with an air of quiet authority and confidence. It was a stark contrast to the fervour Lydia usually exuded. Sharon played effortlessly, her movements fluid, almost meditative, as if she had perfected the art of silence. Lydia couldn’t help but admire that it made her presence all the more captivating. As Lydia began to lead the rehearsal, her thoughts scattered. The music was perfect, but her mind kept wandering to Sharon, she had never felt this way, she was used to being in power, who is the one being admired, ever since she was a child, she is a genius, but now, she feels small, absorbed by Sharon’s magnificent movements, her long, slightly bony fingers moving the bow of her violin as if it were a magic wand. The way she didn't seem to feel intimidated, cowed, or harassed by Lydia's grey eyes, in fact, Sharon seemed challenged.
“Ms. Goodnow,” Lydia called out, her voice cutting through the music. Sharon, in the middle of a delicate solo, didn’t flinch. She simply lowered her bow and met Lydia’s gaze, her expression unreadable. Lydia hesitated for just a fraction of a second before speaking again. “The phrasing in that passage… it’s too restrained. You’re holding back. I need more emotion. More passion.” Sharon tilted her head slightly, considering the words before responding with a cool, controlled voice. “It’s a subtle piece, Ms. Tár. Sometimes, less is more.”
Maybe Sharon is a little arrogant too. And a tease.
Lydia’s fingers curled around the conductor's baton, her grip tightening. She wasn’t used to being questioned like this, to be challenged. Especially not by a violinist, specially not by someone she has her eye on. “I’m the one conducting here, Ms. Goodnow. I’ll be the judge of what’s too much or too little. Play it again—exactly as I say.” Sharon nodded, but Lydia noticed a flicker of something in her eyes. A challenge, perhaps, or something deeper. The music began again, but this time, Lydia noticed how Sharon’s bow seemed to draw a little more forcefully, more tight across the strings. The tension in the room shifted, an unspoken defiance hanging in the air. Lydia’s heart raced, but not from anger. There was something else, something she hadn’t expected. Sharon wasn’t intimidated, nor was she submissive. She was simply... there. Unmoved by Lydia’s usual charm, her reputation, or her authority.
When the piece ended, Lydia didn’t immediately offer her critique. Instead, she stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle between them. Sharon was the first to break it, her voice quiet but firm. “You don’t always have to control everything, Ms. Tár.” Lydia blinked, caught off guard, almost angry. “I don’t ‘control’ everything,” she replied, her voice more measured than she intended. “But you try to,” Sharon added, her gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. Then she turned back to her violin, as if nothing had happened.
Lydia stood there, struck by the boldness of Sharon’s words. She had always been the one in charge, always the one who commanded the room. And yet here was Sharon—unfazed, unyielding, almost... unapproachable. It wasn’t just her talent that drew Lydia in. It was her confidence, the quiet, undeniable power she carried. But more than that, it was the way Sharon seemed to exist outside of Lydia’s influence, Sharon explodes Tár's bubble, make her go out her zone of comfort, something that Lydia couldn’t help but find both unsettling and intriguing.
After the rehearsal, as the orchestra members filtered out, Lydia found herself walking beside Sharon. The space between them felt charged, each step deliberate but laden with unspoken tension. “Sharon,” Lydia began, her voice softer now, trying to ease the friction that had built during rehearsal. “I appreciate your insight today. You’re not afraid to stand your ground. ”Sharon glanced at her, a small, knowing smile curving her lips. “I’m not afraid of you, Ms. Tár.” Lydia’s breath caught, a mix of frustration and something else bubbling to the surface. Why does she would be afraid of her? She wasn’t sure if it was the challenge or the potential for something deeper, but Sharon’s words hit like a spark in the dark. “You shouldn’t be,” Lydia said, her tone low, almost too intimate for the moment. “But you might find that it’s hard to avoid me.” Sharon’s smile didn’t fade, but she didn’t reply, leaving Lydia to wonder if she had crossed a line.
As they reached the door to the hall, Sharon paused. “I’ll see you at the next rehearsal, Ms. Tár.” Lydia nodded, but as Sharon stepped out, Lydia couldn’t help but wonder if this was the beginning of something more, a test of wills, of control, of boundaries that neither of them, or that Lydia had yet fully explored.