The power of music

Rating: 8/10 (6 May 2015)

Man oh man, it's been a while since I was so fired up over a film. Indeed, the other times I can remember being this excited were when I first watched Memento roughly ten years ago and In the Mood for Love several years back. Regardless of any complaints I might have, to finally witness a film again that makes good on the promise of all those remarks about how 'astounding,' 'exhilarating' and 'electrifying' it is, is a breath of fresh air. Whiplash reminds me of Black Swan. Both films deal with an (unhealthy) desire to achieve artistic perfection. There's a key difference in the way both films handle this theme, however, which I think is crucial to understand why Whiplash is ultimately the superior filmbut more on that later.
Whiplash starts in pitch black as we hear the faint sound of drums slowly tapping. And then it slowly goes fasterand faster and just when you think it couldn't possibly go any faster, it does. The effect is euphoric. With a bang the first image appears, protagonist Andrew, a first-year student at Schaffer Conservatory in New York, sitting at his drum set, practicing. He is startled to see Terence Fletcher, a jazz instructor at the conservatory, watching him from a distance. Though Fletcher doesn't seem to be impressed, Andrew is eventually allowed to join his band as the alternate for the core drummer. Fletcher, however, turns out to be to jazz instructors what Gny. Sgt. Hartman from Full Metal Jacket is to drill sergeants: aka hardcore. Fletcher comes from the school of hard knocks and believes the only way new musical legends will ever arise is if people are pushed "beyond what is expected of them." Naturally, his teaching methods will have psychologists weeping in their theatre seats, but there you go. Andrew, feeling his family and friends don't truly understand and appreciate his efforts, naturally isolates himself from those around him and starts practicing until his hands bleed. The rest of the film traces his efforts to achieve his goals and his relationship with Fletcher.
In pure cinematic terms, I'd almost label Whiplash a thriller. It's edited in such a way that even the act of Andrew quickly grabbing his stuff and getting into a car becomes exhausting. Even during scenes of jazz being played, the editing is alive, panning from player to player with quick close-ups of players and instruments added as well. Truly, this film is the perfect showcase for the power of editing.
As for the acting, if you've heard anything at all about it, you'll know J.J. Jameson, uh, J.K. Simmons acts the hell out of his part. It's impossible not to feel a bit discouraged by the fact that only now, when he nabbed a really scene-chewing part, he's showered with awards, but it's hard not to like him, the man, mind you, not the character. What's more upsetting, however, is how Miles Teller (you know, the protagonist) flew under the collective radars of pretty much all major award bodies. I guess they felt it's hard to name someone 'best actor' when 50% of the time he's playing the drums. Nevertheless, he gives an astounding performance.
As for the crucial difference between Black Swan and Whiplash: in Black Swan, you never 'felt' Nina's desire to become the best. You knew that's what she wanted, but you didn't share that longing. The film couldn't convey the feeling of reaching perfection being the only thing that matters. In Whiplash, however, there are no cheesy surrealist nightmare sequences with oh so deep symbolism. Instead, we see Andrew practicing and practicing and listening to old tapes of the drummers he's always idolized. When he starts experiencing success in Fletcher's band, we share his feeling of isolation when no one in his family appreciates the sacrifices he's made in the name of art. We start to share the feeling that being anything less than the next Charlie Parker just won't do.
If there is a downside, it's that the film lacks a certain amount of plausibility. Whenever a film like Whiplash or Black Swan attempts to portray the quest for 'true art,' it's always paired with physical and emotional violence and so on. I get the point, believe me, but there's something unbelievable about a man like Fletcher doing what he does and it not resulting in his immediate dismissal from the conservatory. The film does its best to remedy this with characters that emphasize the emotional abuse Fletcher is dishing out to his players, basic human decency as portrayed by Andrew's father and by explicitly/implicitly dealing with questions of whether or not the end justifies Fletcher's means, whether being told you did a "good job" is good enough, whether or not all this effort and sacrifice is worth it, etc. Any viewer with a working thinking cap will realize the film doesn't portray Fletcher's methods as being the one path to greatness.
But in the end, these minor quibbles don't stand in the way of Whiplash's true achievement: coming to share and understand Andrew's desire to succeed and this the film does with aplomb. Nowhere is this more evident than in the spectacular finale, one long rousing scene that is almost completely without dialogue. The music does all the talking.