The credits essentially are backwards, starting with special thanks to different groups and ending with the producers, main cast, and Todd Field himself. This might seem odd until one realizes that much like film, an orchestra is a collaborative medium consisting of many different parts working together. By starting with the "lowest" members of the crew and going up to the main players, the film is appreciating everyone's contributions and not taking anyone for granted—basically everything that Lydia couldn't do.
Even though Tar claims to control when an orchestra starts or stops, the movie opens with her in the vulnerable position of being photographed and commented on while she sleeps, and the credits start before she even begins speaking on stage. The movie's introduction therefore undermines Tár's claim that the orchestra cannot start without her, instead showing the audience how she's beholden to people around her whom she has neglected (and how even a film driven by an auteur director, centered around one famous actress' performance, relies on a vast crew to function).
The film opens with Lydia telling everyone in the first interview scene that she considers her ultimate source of power as a conductor to be being able to manipulate time through tempo. In the final scene, she is given headphones with the Monster Hunter: World concert, which would play her a metronome or a "click track," a computerized and predetermined tempo map that allows the orchestra to synchronize with the videos on the screen behind the orchestra. On top of her perceived humiliation of conducting a concert like this, by giving her that click track, she is also completely stripped of her power as a conductor to put her own spin or take on the music, even the most basic power to stop and start the piece, and is instead totally beholden to the headphones and the metronome.
While Tár going Mama Bear on the girl who was bullying Petra is at first one of her better moments, it takes a very disturbing turn when she tells the girl that if she tells anyone that Tár threatened her, no one will believe her, because Tár is the grownup. If, God forbid, that girl is ever abused or molested by an adult, those words will be in her head, and it's very likely that because of what Tár said, she won't tell anyone that could help her. Bully or not, no child deserves that.
When Tár is revealed to be a sexual predator, her threat to the girl becomes even creepier. It's very possible she's told the young women she's abused not to bother telling anyone, because no one will believe them. Even worse, it turns out that at least some of Tár's coworkers know exactly what's going on. It's not that no one will believe them; it's that, until Tár's behavior becomes a liability for her employers, nobody cares.
