When considering
the portrayals of student-teacher relationships on film, particularly
regarding music, the default is the uplifting, "Mr Holland's Opus"
model. Though there's often initial reluctance, the relationship is
largely a nurturing one, full of positive reinforcement, creative
solutions to obstacles, and feel-good messages. "Whiplash" does not
have any of those things. Rather, it portrays a student-teacher
relationship with all the sentiment of a barroom brawl, one full of
provocation, violence, threats, abuse, and a worrying amount of blood.
Drummer
Andrew Neyman (Miles Teller) is a student at the best music
conservatory in the country, and has caught the eye of Terence Fletcher
(JK Simmons), the notorious instructor who conducts the school's
prestigious competitive jazz band. Andrew wants to be one of the
greats, and believes that Fletcher's tough-love methods can get him
there. But as Andrew becomes more obsessed with achieving perfection,
Fletcher keeps pushing his limits to dangerous extremes, to the dismay
of Andrew's father (Paul Reiser) and new girlfriend (Melissa Benoist).
It's so rare to find a film about artists that's
actually about the pursuit of the art itself - not their romantic
relationships, not their ability to overcome personal adversity, but the
artist's active pursuit of bettering their craft. "Whiplash" puts the
conflict between Andrew and Fletcher front and center, but it hinges on
Andrew's intense drive and desire for greatness. The situation wouldn't
keep escalating to the extent that it does otherwise. J.K. Simmons has
rightly won heaps of praise for his performance as the sadistic,
manipulative music teacher from hell, but "Whiplash" owes just as much
to Miles Teller. It's Teller embodying Andrew's glory-seeking
self-destructiveness combined with some seriously impressive drumming
skills that sells the whole conceit of the picture.
Of
course, the bulk of the credit for "Whiplash" goes to writer/director
Damien Chazell. Despite few credits to his name, his work here is
incredibly assured and effective. I love that he strips down the
narrative to the absolute essentials, resisting the urge to add
unnecessary context or to flesh out the little side relationships that
might take attention away from the main event. There's a romance, yes,
but it's always put in service of the larger story. Chazell isn't
afraid of treating the drumming like a life-or-death battle, and parts
of the movie are structured like a thriller or horror film, much like
what Darren Aronofsky did with ballet on "Black Swan." He shoots the
final performance like an action sequence, and it's electrifying. And I
love the way the whole movie is steeped in the culture and the craft
of playing music. I've never seen it done better.
I should
clarify that "Whiplash" is not a candid look at this particular corner
of the music world - the movie is clearly an allegory that stretches
the limits of believability toward the end. If you think about the
sequence of events, there's a lot that doesn't make sense. But because
the director took the trouble to get all the little technical details
right, it's so much easier to buy into this story, and to appreciate the
level of musical talent on display. It's difficult to imagine the
movie without the music - I have no particular fondness for jazz, but
now I want the "Whiplash" soundtrack.
And I
suspect that many a viewer with no interest in drumming, in
teacher-student stories, or even music films would enjoy
"Whiplash." And ironically, audience members looking for the typical,
feel-good movie about musical education might be blindsided by J.K.
Simmons' expertly deployed vitriol and Miles Teller's descent into
percussive madness. The drama is intense, the performances are
perfectly pitched, and the director takes some considerable risks that
pay off in spades. I'm hesitant to call this a great film, but it's
surely close enough to be up for debate.
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