★★★★☆
Four Stars
On a black screen, drum rolls develop, building up in intensity. In the first scene, we discover the drummer responsible: Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller) is a first year student at the fictional Schaffer School of Music. It is allegedly the best music school in the country, but that is not enough for Andrew. He will stop at nothing to be a great jazz musician like Charlie Parker. He listens to Bobby Rich religiously, and he spends his spare time practising, occasionally taking a break to go to the movies with his father. It is evident that he has enormous drive and ambition, in contrast with the laid-back attitude of his family, in particular, his father.
The drums stop. Terence Fletcher (J. K. Simmons) fills the door. Emerging from the darkness like a mysterious character out of film noir, it is immediately obvious that he is the one to impress. He is the conductor of the studio band, and a place on there could potentially lead to greatness. It is also immediately obvious that this is a difficult task, and he does not suffer fools gladly. After stretching Andrew to play in double time, he leaves as quickly as he came, seemingly unimpressed. The door swings open again. Surely an offer to play in the band is on the cards? No: he came for his jacket. This is not the film you were expecting.
This is also not a movie about the kindly mentor/protégé relationship. Far from that; it is the tale of obsession with an art, and the means someone will go through to achieve their ambitions. After gaining a place on the band, Andrew is initially ecstatic. Although brutal to his band, Terence seems to genuinely care about him, asking him about his family situation and what he hopes to achieve in jazz drumming. When he allows Andrew to practise ‘Whiplash’ with the band, he pauses at a part where there is a change of rhythm. He turns to Andrew.
“Not quite my tempo.“
These four words will be etched upon your memory having seen the film. Initially gentle, it is clear that this was merely a façade for Terence, the Sergeant Harman of this Full Metal Drumkit. After repeated failed attempts to play the correct rhythm, Terence hurls a chair at Andrew, hurling abuse about his family and slapping him. He is obviously a man who cares so much about art, like Andrew, that he will stop at nothing to achieve great results, even if it means physical abuse and inflicting psychological terror on members of his band. He also has the very best lines. Gazing into the terrified face of Andrew, struggling to hold back tears, he berates: “Oh my dear God – are you one of those single tear people?“
J. K. Simmons is wonderful as the intimidating Fletcher, and it is no surprise that he has mopped up every Best Supporting Actor award in the run up to Oscars season. He delivers his lines perfectly, frequently humorous but always with a malicious edge. However later we also see another, more vulnerable side to him in the film, and both sides are effectively captured by Simmons. In Whiplash, the character he plays is not merely just the head of a jazz band. He also embodies drive and ambition, and is the man that Andrew needs to see him on the way to greatness. The pairing of these two characters is electrifying to see: it is an unhealthy relationship, with both members exacerbating each other’s worst characteristics, but together they can produce something great.
We also cannot forget Miles Teller, who is shaping up as one of the best emerging actors of his generation. Every single scene contains Teller’s Andrew, and although unsympathetic at times in his interactions outside the world of jazz drumming (one notable scene with Andrew’s girlfriend is reminiscent of – and equally biting as – the opening scene from The Social Network), Teller is very effective in conveying Andrew’s feelings to the screen. Watching the film, it is possible to feel the pain, both physically and emotionally, that Andrew goes through, and the contrast between the beauty of the jazz and the visceral reality of drumming.
For a film about music, the soundtrack is exceptional. Even for non-musicians, the film makes it possible to appreciate the hours of practice put into a performance and the pure joy of performing music. The ending scene in particular is quite possibly the best 15 minutes of cinema I have enjoyed for a long time. It is amazing that such a simple scene on paper can evoke such tension and rise to such breathtaking heights, and I defy anyone who watches this scene to not feel the same way.
Whiplash is effective because it tackles age-old themes of aspirations, sacrifices, motivation, and the mentor-protégé relationship, and although many films have dealt with these principles, Whiplash turns much of this on its head and possesses an incredible script and wonderful actors. Compared to the other Best Picture nominees, there is also a refreshing brevity about the film. All the scenes are perfectly structured, and there are none that are excessive or lacking. Feeling self-conscious, perhaps this review has been rushing or dragging, but similar criticisms cannot be levied against Whiplash. It is an interesting, entertaining film with two amazing performances, and I cannot recommend it highly enough.
