Thomas Edison once said that genius was one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration. If there is any truth to that then Andrew, Miles Teller’s drum protégé at the centre of this, in every sense, hard-hitting film, is hitting the right notes. He provides a copious amount of sweat as well as the considerable blood and tears, the two other bodily fluids often cited as essential to make wannabes into big time players. Success being hard work, dedication and a great deal of personal sacrifice is the theme driving the pounding alternative rhythm of Whiplash.
Any talented individual seeking the pathway to true greatness needs a mentor: drum role please for Terrence Fletcher, aka J.K Simmons. He’s the ruthlessly forceful, emotionally abusive jazz teacher, driving the admirable tenacity of our aspiring drummer. Not a man to tread carefully is an understatement; the venom and veracity of his tongue lashings make for wince-inducing, scintillating cinema. He makes the foul-mouthed drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket look like a kindly benevolent social worker. You would need a skin considerably thicker than that of a drum to withstand the torment Andrew is subjected to in Whiplash. What makes Whiplash so gripping is whether or not Andrew is going to be thick-skinned enough to endure Fletcher’s unorthodox motivational strategy, which tantalizingly remains an ambivalent unresolved issue for a long portion of the film.
Plot-wise the film is very minimalist. Going into the film, you don’t need to know much more than the outline: that this is a film about a student desperate to become a world class jazz drummer, clashing fiercely with a teacher whose methods firmly reside in in the cruel to be kind school of thought. The film is an intense, grueling study of a mesmerizing love-hate mentor/student relationship, that is as complex and winding as the extended jazz solos arrangements that the film showcases.
It’s perhaps unsurprising that the strength of the film rests with two astonishing performances which are intense for different reasons. J.K Simmons has shaped an on-screen persona as a likeable kindly father figure with films like Juno. He subverts that in the darkest fashion imaginable here, providing a believably brutal character. Simmons has always had a knack for comedy. Look at what he did as Jameson in the Spider-man films with his curt put-downs of Peter Parker. Here he channels that comic spark in a different direction, with an acerbic, bitter wit that provides much uncomfortable laughter. He is as imposing a figure on screen as you are likely to see all year. But the strength of Simmons’ performance is that he manages to make Simmons character somewhat identifiable and therefore far more than the caricature of abuse the character could have easily been.
As good as Simmons is, his performance is massively helped by the fact that he’s playing a binary opposite father figure than he is renowned for. An even more inspirational performance comes from the man with the sticks taking stick. Teller seems utterly connected to the character – the whole film rests on whether Andrew can master the drums. What makes his performance really incredible is he is playing the drums for real. Losing or putting on weight is considered method acting, so why not learning to play the drums to the same astonishing beats per minute as the jazz drummer legend repeatedly nodded to in the film, Buddy Rich? Teller was clearly put through the emotional wringer in what must have been a physically demanding performance. Even without the aid of 3D, the audience get the sense of being spattered with the blood, sweat and tears he provided. Simmons got an Oscar nomination but Teller should have too. He is the reasons why the film is so immersive and involving for an often rattled audience. The industry always favours the established names over striking newcomers.
Jazz drummer Buddy Rich is a major inspiration for Whiplash
Director Damian Chazelle tries to get to the raw truth of what it means to turn talent into greatness. He wants to say something painfully honest about what it means to achieve success: talent is a gateway but to be a truly great artist, suffering is essential. People who have hit the summit of mount success may nod in approval of Chazelle’s uncompromising message. People subjected to the same obscene amount of pressure as Andrew is, will empathize deeply with the potent drama that plays out.
You can’t help but shift uncomfortably in your seat when witnessing the sheer vitriol that Simmons summons towards Andrew though. This is a film that hurtles a stick at the liberally minded idea that positive motivation and reassuring constructive encouragement is the best motivational philosophy.
If your own boss takes inspiration from Fletcher and tries to improve your productivity with a similar method used in the film, you would have justifiable grounds for a class action lawsuit. In other words, there is a message to this film that stands in stark contrast to how the world is now shaped. It might be one of the reasons why it has struck a chord with so many people and rattled the cages of so many others.
Anyone with a dream or an ambition is forced by Chazelle’s probing film to look deep within themselves and ask :Do I have what it takes to be truly great in my field? Many people may not like the answers they find. But that’s what makes Whiplash a great film: it moves to a different beat by confronting the hard reality of what it means to turn ambition into achievement.
8.0/10
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