NO PAIN NO GAIN
Oscar Nominee Movie Review – “Whiplash”
Review by Steven Lewis
*This review contains mild spoilers*
WHIPLASH is a story about the pursuit of excellence.
Now, anyone who has not actually seen the movie could be forgiven for reading the above sentence and thinking “Oh, ok – I get it. A film wrapped in trumpets and uplift, about a young man overcoming odds to become the best he can be – probably with the help of a wisened mentor and/or a gruff but inspirational authority figure who coaxes greatness out of him. OF COURSE it’s nominated for Best Picture – the Academy eats this stuff up like catnip!” And vague images of THE KARATE KID, or AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN, or perhaps even REMEMBER THE TITANS may dance around in your mind. Well … no. WHIPLASH is not like any of those movies. Or, rather it is – but it goes beyond their simple formulas and easy platitudes into darker and more uncharted emotional territories. To me, it was the best picture I saw all of last year.
Its setup is simple enough: Miles Teller plays Andrew Neyman, a young man with a burning desire to be a great jazz drummer. To that end, he has applied for and been accepted at a prestigious east coast music conservatory (Shaffer, though Juliard is probably the association we are supposed to make). As the movie opens, his rehearsal room practice session is noticed by Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), a legendary teacher at the school, who then invites Andrew to be a part of his jazz ensemble – which we are meant to understand is the most esteemed of the entire program. But HOW are we meant to understand this? Mainly through Andrew’s eyes, and the enthusiasm he shows at being accepted – as well as the fear-shaking deference he pays to Fletcher. Not that Fletcher doesn’t do everything he can to induce such fear and deference: in J.K. Simmons’ towering performance he is every bit the self-aware icon, a man who has tailored his own legacy to a finely burnished point, and in every word and gesture aggrandizes himself and his teaching philosophy. But that’s just it – the audience is given no real counter view of this man. Supporting characters in this movie are few; it is mostly a two-hander piece between Andrew and Fletcher, and the increasingly uncomfortable chess match of wills that develops between them over the course of the months Andrew finds himself in Fletcher’s band. Fletcher is an overbearing instructor, who uses tactics of bullying and shaming in order to both keep his charges in line, as well as to bring up the level of their play to the status of excellence. We see Andrew alternately enlivened and overwhelmed by these tactics – but we never see him question them.
And that limitation of vision is part of what makes WHIPLASH the riveting movie it is. From the time Andrew joins Fletcher’s band, we in the audience are caught in his fever-dream, his monomaniacal focus on raising the level of his playing to the standards demanded by his taskmaster instructor. Tense moments abound in the rehearsal room, which are brilliantly acted by Teller and Simmons – and just as brilliantly shot by writer/director Damien Chazelle, who on evidence of this movie has quite the promising future as a filmmaker (and who was robbed of a Best Director nod, if you want my humble opinion). Equally torturous are the ends we witness Andrew going to on his own in order to conform to the almost impossible ideal of “greatness” laid down by Fletcher. Rehearsal montages seeped in sweat and blood populate a good deal of the film. Also, a wonderfully written and played scene in which Andrew breaks off a budding relationship he has begun with a sweet young co-ed from a nearby college (Melissa Benoist). He matter-of-factly explains that he cannot be with her because he is pursuing greatness, something she couldn’t possibly understand, and that he cannot afford to divert his energies toward anything else right now. The move, so cold and brutal on the surface, actually makes total sense within the world that WHIPLASH has set up: the very storyline of the movie perfectly mirrors Andy’s single-mindedness, allowing nothing else to get in its way. Lesser films (and there are many) like nothing so much as to set up a “love interest” for the hero, which acts as a countermanding influence upon him, and a way to show and develop another side to the character. WHIPLASH understands that trope, but deliberately sets it up as a strawman to be kicked over and dispensed with. Characters like Andy have in fact no time for “love”.
Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Well, the movie refuses to tip its hand. It takes pains to show the exhausting, painful process Andy goes through – both on a physical and psychological level – and the increasingly more sadistic measures utilized by Fletcher to push him beyond his limits. However, it does not editorialize. As such, it acts as a Rorschach test for each individual audience member. How we feel about what we see playing out before us likely has more to do with the associations we bring into the film: about the value of harsh vs. “soft” instruction, about the value of individual achievement vs. group hegemony, and indeed about the very possibility of “excellence” in the first place. We all admire excellence, or at least say we do. But getting up close enough to look it in the face – that is not something we tend to think about as often. What does excellence truly look like, off the stage (or the field, or the battleground, or whatever specific arena we are talking about)? Does everyone have an equal shot at it, through development and hard work, or does one have to be a special person from the get go in order to even stake a claim? And if the latter is true, what is the best way to develop the talents of such a person? What role does education play in the process: can excellence be truly taught, or is the role of the educator to stubbornly coax it forth? In which case, what responsibility does an instructor have to the “non-excellent”? I know that’s a lot of question marks to throw into one paragragh, but to me the strength of this movie rests precisely in the questions it forces a viewer to ask, all without hope of answer from the film itself. I will say here that from my standpoint, Fletcher’s techniques seemed utterly monstrous. But then again, I’m not “great” and so then what do I know about the pursuit of greatness? Perhaps this is exactly what it is supposed to look like – all notions of humane-ness and good sense be damned.
Or perhaps Fletcher is exactly the smug, self-important prick that no doubt at least half the audience will want to take him for anyway. Much of the tension the movie generates is centered around the question of whether Andy will become more LIKE Fletcher, or whether he will be able to escape from his teacher’s clutches with his dignity intact. For this exact reason, the way the film plays out its endgame is truly genius. It first allows us a seemingly privileged glimpse behind the gruff and supercilious mask Fletcher throws up to get at the very heart of his philosophy and belief system. However, ensuing events throw even that glimpse into question, making us wonder anew whether Fletcher is not exactly the monster we thought. But then, we are also forced to ask – if he IS a monster, is it not possible that that’s exactly what Andy needed? Or … no, maybe not. The final fifteen minutes of this movie represent some of the tautest, tensest, most gripping and enthralling in the history of cinema, and any true film lover won’t want to miss them. But the most intriguing thing about the ending of this movie is that its central question and thematic preoccupation – namely, where does Andy come to stand in relation to Fletcher and all that he represents – is left enticingly unresolved, in a way that not only plays fair but in fact creates a stronger impression with the viewer than if it had definitively been answered. Ambiguity is not always the surest hand for a movie to play, as there is a danger it will simply come across as muddled. But when it is presented with the strength, intelligence, and cinematic assurance that WHIPLASH does, it becomes the best kind of movie: the kind that will make you want to talk about it afterward.
That’s what I’ve been doing, ever since this wonderful movie came out. Hopefully, the Academy sees fit to award it in such a way that it will encourage a whole host of others to see it and do the same. For, in every facet of its production – from acting to directing to editing and sound and lighting and set design – WHIPLASH simultaneously displays that quality which is at the same time its subject and driving preoccupation: excellence.
Directed by: Damien Chazelle
Release Date: October 10, 2014
Run Time: 107 Minutes
Country: USA
Rated: R
Distributor: SONY Pictures Classics
