“There are no two words in the English language more harmful than ‘good job.’”
The H-Bomb: Andrew Neimann (Miles Teller) is an aspiring jazz drummer attending a prestigious music academy in NYC. He has raw talent and youthful determination, all he needs is a break. One day, after hearing a bit of what Andrew can do, the school’s most respected teacher, Terrence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), invites him to join his band as the alternate drummer. Fletcher is not only the most respected teacher at this school, he is also the most feared, and on his first day in class, Andrew sees why. Fletcher will berate, bully, and humiliate anyone in the band who isn’t performing up to his standards. Imagine the D.I. from Full Metal Jacket, except with a conductor’s baton.
After Andrew initially fails to play up to snuff on the drums, Fletcher hurls a chair at his head and repeatedly bitch slaps him in front of the class. Like so many a student before him, Andrew is reduced to tears. But, unlike those many before him, Andrew doesn’t break. Instead, he practices his ass off, until his hands are bleeding, and the next chance he gets to impress Fletcher, at a jazz competition, Andrew rises to the occasion, and Fletcher makes him the core drummer of the band.
Andrew, with a new found sense of confidence, thinks he has it made. Little does he know, this is just the beginning of what Fletcher has in store for him, as the mind fuckery between the two of them is about to really heat up. Fletcher isn’t just going to give this kid a place in his band, he has to earn it, and Fletcher will push him to the limit; physically, psychologically, and beyond. Is Fletcher a mentor, or a monster? Does he want to push Andrew to succeed, or to simply destroy him?
Who ever thought a movie about jazz music could be this fucking intense?
How intense is Whiplash? Well, during the big finale, which is naturally set in a grand auditorium, I was on the edge of my seat, my hands gripping the armrests beside me, my eyes fixed on the screen. It was only when it finally ended, and the credits started to play, that I realized that I had been holding my breath the entire time. That is how Goddamn intense the film gets when it hits the climax. Intense and unsettling, to the point of being borderline unbearable, though in a good way.
Whiplash comes to us from writer/director, Damien Chazelle, who only just turned 30 at the time of this writing (January 2015), and who’s previous credits include penning the screenplays for The Last Exorcism Part II (Dogshit), and Grand Piano, an entertaining thriller I reviewed last year. While Grand Piano is a fun genre exercise, it is not even on the same level as Whiplash, a gripping, disturbing film that demonstrates what Chazelle is truly capable of as a filmmaker.
Expanding his 2013 short of the same name, Chazelle has crafted an engrossing, provocative battle of wills between an ambitious artist who will go to startling measures to achieve his life’s dream, and the demanding teacher who rides him relentlessly. It reminded me a bit of Black Swan, except without all the surreal nuttiness, or the lesbian sex. It’s difficult to articulate in a review, but the clash between these two, and the sort of fucked up bond that they develop, makes for the single most emotionally draining movie experience I’ve had in quite some time. I sit through a lot of wanna be tear-jerkers and don’t feel a damn thing, but this had me riveted in ways I never would’ve expected.
Teller is a young actor I’ve had my eye on ever since I saw Rabbit Hole a few years back, and while I felt he was wasted in a couple of dopey comedies that were truly beneath him (Project X, 21 & Over), as well as Divergent (aka The Hunger Games-lite), as Andrew, I feel he really comes into his own as an actor. He starts out as a sweet, slightly awkward kid, then we see him change gradually, and become more obsessed, as he gets in deeper with Fletcher, to the point of alienating everyone else in his life, including his father (Paul Reiser) and his girlfriend, Nicole (Melissa Benoist). Teller conveys Andrew’s near psychotic transformation brilliantly, proving himself to be a young actor of real promise.
The true revelation of Whiplash, though, is seasoned character actor Simmons, who has never had a showcase like this. He gave us all a laugh as the bombastic newspaper editor in the Sam Raimi Spider-Man flicks, and he was endearing as Juno’s well meaning, blue collar dad. As Fletcher, Simmons becomes something I never would have envisioned him as, a monster. An undeniably manipulative and possibly evil man, who toys with his students and fucks with their heads in a way that only a true sadist would. I never thought of J.K. Simmons as someone who was even remotely scary, but here, he is fucking terrifying. He has received numerous accolades for this performance, I’d say they’re all very much warranted.
There is the ambiguity around Fletcher that lies at the heart of Whiplash; is he trying to make, or ruin, his students? It’s a question I’ve been mulling over since I saw the film some 24 hours ago, and I don’t think there’s a definitive answer, even in the mind of the character himself. That, more than the performances or anything else, is a sign of what an absolutely brilliant film Whiplash is, the fact that I can’t stop thinking about it. The damned thing just won’t leave my mind, and I don’t think it will anytime soon.
