This
movie came out on DVD two days after
the Oscars (‘cause it’s convenient like that,) so I finally had the chance to
see it. I see exactly why it won the
awards it did (J.K. Simmons for supporting actor, sound mixing, and film
editing,) and while it’s an excellent movie, I also see why it didn’t win the
other ones it was up for (best picture and adapted screenplay.) It’s just not the sort of movie that wins
those sorts of awards. However, it is a great film, and I’m happy it wasn’t
just a seat-filler nomination.
Whiplash tells the story of Andrew, a
first-year drummer at a highly-prestigious, highly-competitive music
conservatory. He thinks he’s hit the
jackpot when Dr. Fletcher, an esteemed professor, plucks him out of obscurity
to join Fletcher’s elite jazz band.
Under the dictatorial Fletcher, it turns out, dreams come true are both
hard-earned and crushingly fleeting.
Andrew’s life becomes a pressure cooker of verbal abuse, nonstop
practicing, and rewards that are constantly in danger of being yanked
away. It’s not so much a matter of
success as it is one of survival.
Naturally,
much of the movie’s greatness owes its thanks to J.K. Simmons’s brilliant
performance as Fletcher, as well as the fine material he has to work with. This character is just remarkably exciting to
watch, because he has so many weapons in his arsenal. Sometimes he rages at his musicians, hurling
litanies of abuse (and, occasionally, chairs) at them. Sometimes he goes frighteningly quiet,
murmuring threats in their ears or commenting on their deepest vulnerabilities
with nary a thought. Sometimes the anger
begins slowly, starting off reasonably, almost reassuringly, and gradually
descending into white-hot fury. Sometimes he’s all encouragement and smiles,
lulling them into a false sense of safety while getting them to open up about
the insecurities he’ll throw back in their faces later. And worst of all, sometimes he makes these
kids feel fantastic: when he’s in Fletcher’s favor, it’s clear
that Andrew feels like a jazz-drumming stud, on top of the world, and he
subjects himself to endless ugliness, humiliation, and pain just to get those
scraps of Fletcher’s praise. The true
menace of Fletcher isn’t his insults or intimidation – it’s the way you can see
exactly why Andrew keeps chasing his approval.
And oh
boy, does he chase it. The expression
“play until your fingers bleed” isn’t the least bit figurative here, and there
are numerous moments throughout the film when I weighed the various likelihoods
of Andrew killing himself, killing Fletcher, dropping out of school, or
dropping dead of a heart attack onstage.
The tight storytelling and claustrophobic framing add to the tension,
which puts you right at the kit with Andrew and makes this movie more
edge-of-your-seat than plenty of action blockbusters out there. It’s a film that feels more like an
experience than a viewing, because it immerses you so wholly into Andrew’s
high-pressure world.
Warnings
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