An example of its own doctrine

Rating: 1/10 (16 January 2020)

Whiplash the movie is a perfect example of the artistic idea its story seems to be espousing for its entire length: that technique counts for everything, and heart and soul count for nothing.
Any professional musician (and I am one) will tell you that, as far as the study of music goes, this is wrongheaded and inaccurate in almost every way. Yes, hard work is necessary, and technical skill is important, but that's a given in almost any field. However the story depicts almost none of the other most important realities of studying and playing music, least of all the JOY of doing it. But then this film is really not about the desire to be a musician, or an artist of any kind. It's about wanting to be perceived as being THE GREATEST. In other words it's all about ego - how one wishes oneself to be described.
True artists work at their art because it's what they want to do and they get fulfillment from doing it. Whether they are "great" or simply "good" can be left to others to decide - their focus is on following their passion and developing their voices. Good teachers can help them find their path. But Fletcher, the teacher in this movie, is - well, psychotic, really. There's no other way to describe his delusional artistic "philosophy". And there's certainly no way to defend his destructive methods. His ludicrous tantrums are supposed to have the effect of "inspiring" growth, but never is he shown actually TEACHING his students ANYTHING. All he does is inflict emotional, psychological and even physical abuse on them. The idea that this guy would last more than a week in any teaching institution is absurd.
But then the writing overall is ultra-problematic, because it is not rooted in any reality - the two principal characters may as well be living on another planet. Some of the principal plot points don't make any logical sense at all: in the final jazz festival sequence, why on earth would Fletcher, for his big "comeback" moment on the NY music scene, invite a drummer to come play who has not been practicing with the band, and then deliberately set him up to crash and burn? To get revenge, clearly - but all it would really do is make Fletcher and the rest of the band (whom Fletcher clearly cares not a whit about) look bad. J.K. Simmons is a very accomplished actor, but there is nothing to his character beyond his psychosis - Simmons gives a performance I felt he could have done in his sleep (basically his character from "The Closer", with a humorectomy). Miles Teller is OK as the student, but his character is not sympathetic because he never seems to be doing music for the right reason (i.e. a love or passion for it).
And just as Fletcher completely negates the heart and soul of playing music in favor of emphasizing pure technique, so does Damien Chazelle avoid exploring the heart and soul of his subject, concentrating instead on flashy filmmaking technique. Admittedly, the technical aspects of Whiplash ARE superb: the photography, editing, and film scoring are all done so well that they almost succeed in distracting from the basic hollowness and dishonesty of the story they are servicing.
Normally I would give more points for such filmmaking finesse, but I feel incredibly offended by such a false portrayal of a life work that I have intimate knowledge of. I will grant that all the technical fireworks give the story a degree of drama and excitement, but so much of it feels artificially earned. A massive demonstration of style over substance, Whiplash is, at its core, meaningless, and I can't give it any more than 1 point.