When I was first encouraged to watch Damien Chazelle’s 2014 jazz-injected drama Whiplash, I was hesitant. As a drummer and lover of jazz myself, I had seen other attempts to bring realistically compelling percussion to the big screen (in films like Drumline and Wayne’s World) and was always underwhelmed. I felt that films like these had never quite captured the fiery, domineering nature of drumming that I thought a silver-screen treatment deserved. Eventually, however, I sat down many years ago to watch the film and it quickly became one of my favorite films of all time.
Why? I guess you’ll have to keep reading to find out… 😉 [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “Whiplash.” You have been warned.] The Good For the uninitiated, Whiplash tells the story of freshman college student Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller) who is also an aspiring jazz drummer with a dream of being “one of the greats.” After meeting prestigious jazz constructor Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), he is given that opportunity to prove himself and achieve greatness. But the more time he spends under the cruel and ruthless tutelage of Fletcher, it becomes clear to Neiman that the path he is on may not be worth the potential reward in the end. This first section is devoted to highlighting some good aspects of the film that may be overshadowed by other elements that I’ll be addressing later. To call these things weak in comparison to the great things of Whiplash would be to unfairly characterize them as anything but sufficiently competent filmmaking. While many viewers come away in awe of the central performances (notably Simmons), I always come to appreciate the two important supporting characters more every time I revisit Whiplash: Andrew’s unambitious but loving father Jim (Paul Reiser) and Andrew’s short-lived girlfriend Nicole (Melissa Benoist). Both characters serve as the only substantive perspectives the audience gets looking from the outside into this absurd, jazz-obsessed world that Andrew becomes consumed with as the film goes on. Thus, they offer a refreshing way for Chazelle to give the audience some reprieve and reassurance that our concerns about Andrew’s well-being while in Fletcher’s presence are merited and understandable. Furthermore, both Benoist and Reiser play their respective roles well without overshadowing our protagonist and antagonist. In my humble opinion, they are examples of the best kind of supporting performances. Reiser remains Andrew’s steadfast supporter and mentor who only wants him to be happy and free of the undue stress and abuse that Fletcher causes (I’ll talk more about him in the next section regarding the film’s ending). Benoist, on the other hand, gives the audience a glimpse in the film’s first act into the kind of college life Andrew could have by balancing fierce dedication to academics with fostering a genuine, meaningful relationship with Nicole. Instead, however, Fletcher’s incessant pushing of him towards greatness pushes Andrew down the rabbit hole towards greatness to the point that he breaks it off with her in the worst way possible. And Benoist plays their break-up scene well by both spelling out Andrew’s flawed, selfish reasoning for ending their relationship and calling him out on how much of a jackass he is being in the process. Simply put, Benoist never plays Nicole as a dolt but as an intelligent young woman who sees the core of Andrew’s obsession with greatness as a warning sign and exits his life before she is dragged down with him. Which brings us to the film’s central theme: the cost of success. Arguably, the various ways in which Chazelle explores this idea are better than good but I will focus on some of those ways in later sections. Instead, I want to focus here on pouring praise and admiration onto Whiplash for exploring this theme in the first place. Certainly, other movies have addressed this notion of whether or not it is worth life and limb to become great (Spider-Man 2 and The Social Network come to mind). But Whiplash brings many disparate elements together to do so in a way that (in my humble opinion) remains unmatched to this day. From showing the complex dimensions of Andrew’s toxic mentor-mentee relationship with Fletcher to the emphasis on the technicality and physical brutality of drumming (especially jazz drumming) as a visual metaphor, Chazelle never relents on keeping the audience asking the question: is all of this worth it? We never necessarily get a conclusive answer, but the film never fails to inspire critical examination, discussion, and introspection about the many inherent flaws of this notion in our culture about doing everything within our power to become great. There are many movies that explore heady, sophisticated, and relevant themes like this, but few do it as well as Whiplash does. The Great While I greatly respect and appreciate the skill of Benoist and Reiser’s supporting performances, it is undeniable that the true stars of this film are Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons. When comparing the two, it’s easy to view Simmons as the superior talent here (evidenced by his winning an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor). However, I find it virtually impossible for me to separate the greatness of either of these two actors’ performances from each other because of how much the story intertwines their fates. Regarding Teller, he could have easily submitted to an on-the-nose naivete in portraying Andrew and his swift, sudden realization of Fletcher’s true nature. Instead, he grounds the character’s tragic flaw of desiring greatness in an observational intelligence that allows him to figure out Fletcher more and more as the runtime progresses despite always being one step behind Fletcher. Teller makes the audience root for Andrew in his struggle to prove to Fletcher that he deserves greatness, while also showing us how his drive in this struggle makes him undeserving of love and affection from his father or Nicole (or at least discourages us from wanting such things for him). Is Teller the “star” of the show? Perhaps not, but the audience’s sympathy for our protagonist only works because of the caliber of his performance. But I understand why pretty much anyone who watches Whiplash comes away loving the performance of J.K. Simmons as Fletcher. He’s damn good at being a cartoonish antagonist for Andrew in all the best ways. Never does he feel separate from the reality established in the film, but instead is the pinnacle of the worst of it. As the jazz band conductor, Simmons says and does things that force viewers to ask: does this kind of thing actually happen in band?!? In my experience, no. However, I have had conductors and teachers in the past who have done and said things that evoked similar emotions that Fletcher provokes from his students. Rather than relying on hyper-realism in characterizing Simmons’ character, Chazelle (who also wrote the film) hyperbolizes and exaggerates Fletcher’s personality while also grounding him so as to emotionally resonate with the audience. The character never falls flat or overshoots in terms of connecting with our desire to see him “defeated” in some way, and yet when that doesn’t necessarily happen by the film’s end, we’re not disappointed per se. Which brings me to one of my personal favorite elements of Chazelle’s storytelling in Whiplash: the ending. Specifically, the way that the final scene with Andrew playing his solo and Fletcher finally accepting him is shot, edited, and acted allows for a refreshing ambiguity regarding the film’s moral message. As I said in the previous section of this blog, the central question being posed is whether the reward of becoming great outweighs the costs of getting there. To be clear, I firmly believe that Chazelle the human being has a strong opinion on the matter (especially based on the fact that the story of the film is partially based on his own experiences in a “very competitive” high school jazz band). However, Chazelle the writer and director ends Whiplash in the best way by not giving his audience a conclusive answer. He never judges Andrew’s decision to go back to Fletcher’s world and reverse the humiliation he just experienced (excluding the shot of his father’s shock thanks to a heartbreaking performance from Reiser). Instead, he lets us decide for ourselves whether Andrew was right or not to do what he did and if the movie has a happy or sad ending. There is no greater praise I can give to a storyteller than for avoiding forcing their audience to come away with one moral conclusion over any other. And Chazelle does that expertly with the ending of Whiplash. The Groundbreaking While I am certainly not an expert in cinematography or post-production (i.e. editing, sound design), it does not take such expertise to watch Whiplash and not come away with recognizing the talent and craft that went into these elements of the film. Combining artful, tension-ratcheting close-ups, quick and purposeful cuts to instill a sense of chaos, and the parallel use of drumming sounds to enhance the visual storytelling, Chazelle’s creative team (cinematographer Tom Cross and sound mixers Ben Wilkins, Craig Mann, and Thomas Curley) serves up a master class of small-budget filmmaking that rivals any Best Picture winner of any decade. Period. As a whole, the cinematography, editing, and sound design of Whiplash does the impossible in putting the audience in the shoes of Andrew Neiman. In other words, it effectively projects the physical and mental sensation of drumming so as to further invest the audience in the story beyond simply relating to the characters and/or engaging with its themes. There are a handful of scenes that best exemplify this craft, but the one that best encapsulates all of these talents into a singular artistic vision is Andrew’s solo performance during the climax. From the cutting back-and-forth between Andrew’s solo fills and Fletcher conducting the rest of the band to the zooms into Andrew’s face contrasted with his sticks hitting the drum heads, this scene is everything. Of course, it serves as the catharsis for the story as we finally see Andrew overcome Fletcher’s doubts and abuse by proving his greatness (in spite of the ambiguous character of this decision exemplified by the look on his father’s face). But Chazelle’s goal in the scene simply falls flat if not for the expert combination of editing and sound design that went into it. If a movie about (on the surface) jazz drumming lacked a cohesive vision when it came to its look and sound in establishing its mood and tone, then it simply wouldn’t work. Needless to say, Whiplash is not one of those. Conclusion Without question, Whiplash is one of my favorite films of all time—and easily one of the best of this century—and thus it felt fitting to discuss it today on the seventh anniversary of its release. What are your thoughts on Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash? What do you think of his other films? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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