Blood, sweat and jazz
Music school as battlefield, ‘Whiplash’ strikes a pitch-perfect tone
J.K. Simmons in his Oscar-nominated turn in ‘Whiplash’
I hate making lists. I know I bitch about that a lot, but a film like “Whiplash” is why I hate making them. On the heels of its five Oscar nominations, the film is enjoying a theatrical re-release, and now I want to add it to what should have always been a Spinal Tap-esque Top 11 of 2014. (It just goes to 11 now.)
Andrew Neimann (Miles Teller), is an uber-talented jazz percussionist attending the prestigious Shaffer Conservatory of Music. His expertise and passion attracts the attention of Terrence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), a notoriously—sometimes monstrously—uncompromising teacher and conductor. Membership in Fletcher’s studio band can launch careers, and Fletcher invites Neimann to try out for the seat currently occupied by Carl (Nate Lang). Fletcher is a cut-throat ball buster, but the results speak for themselves.
When Neimann inevitably washes out, he uses his passion, anger and frustration to hone his craft—shedding literal blood to will his way back into the band, and into an ever-escalating battle with Fletcher to find his limits and transcend them—or die trying.
Writer and director Damien Chazelle penned the script for “Whiplash” based on his own experiences in a competition jazz band and its conductor, and the film crackles with a fantastic realism and energy—a ring of truth that comes with having lived it. This isn’t “Fame” or “Mr. Holland’s Opus.” Although it does hit on some familiar sports movie tropes, the real suspense of the competition isn’t between the band and the audience, but instead between Neimann and Fletcher, and it sometimes goes to genuinely dark places.
It helps that Chazelle’s crafted a great story out of that experience, one that sees two essentially unhinged perfectionists battling each other for control in a game of one-upmanship that almost turns “Whiplash” into a suspense film in moments.
That sense is bolstered by the realism of the musical performances. I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand watching a movie about musicians with actors who can’t play an instrument—editing around it in ways about as subtle as an archery shot in a 3-D movie. Teller can clearly play the drums, which goes a long way to selling the (literally) blistering training montages.
Speaking of which, the music of “Whiplash” is a star all its own, and you could do worse than to watch this alongside “Birdman,” whose similar thematic ground and arty sense of visual and narrative jazz (as well as a lot of kickass drum solos), contrasts Chazelle’s more formalist but equally invigorating film.
Teller has been doing solid work since 2011’s surprisingly good “Footloose” remake (in which he subtly infused his Willard with respectful shades of Chris Penn but made it his own). 2013’s “The Spectacular Now” proved he could own a screen. With “Whiplash,” it’s evident he can own a screen alongside the outsized, scenery-chewing presence of Simmons. No mean feat, considering.
Here Teller captures the youthful frustration and stubbornness of a driven talent. He unnecessarily dumps his girlfriend because he doesn’t want to be bothered, he mocks his cousins and uncle (Chris Mulkey of “Twin Peaks”) for their commoner dreams of football stardom and holds an underlying disdain for his father’s (an amiable Paul Reiser) protectiveness. Teller transparently becomes Neimann, grounding every scene.
Simmons is a force of nature—vulgar, hilarious, scary and razor-sharp. It’s such a balancing act. Fletcher is a soldier who has no problem with killing in war as long as the goal is achieved; he’s possessed of a nearly sociopathic drive that fuels his quest for perfection. Yet we still understand him, and ultimately like him, because he and Neimann are entwined by those inherent qualities (they’re both assholes who know it), becoming the catalyst for one another’s growth.
“Whiplash” is as memorable as it is rare—an essentially formulaic film that’s anything but contrived—and certainly one of the best of 2014. It’s probably your tempo.
Want more stories from Joe? Check out his chat with Matt Cauthron and Joshua Kline about the 2015 Oscar nominations and his reviews of "Birdman" and "Inherent Vice."