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| Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics |
But
there’s a vast difference between cultivating talent through discipline and
being a dictator who delights in psychological abuse. It’s a concept that writer-director
Damien Chazelle examines in Whiplash, an astonishing gut-punch of a character
study that unfolds like a horror movie. But instead of a masked,
machete-wielding maniac, the antagonist is a brilliant, sadistic music instructor
who pushes his students to the brink of insanity to cultivate extraordinary
performances. I guarantee it will appear on my Best of 2014 list.
Miles
Teller (one of this generation’s most promising actors) plays Andrew Neiman, an
ambitious jazz drummer who attends the prestigious Shaffer Conservatory of
Music (a fictional stand-in for Julliard). His dreams of becoming an all-time
great, and he plays every night until his fingers bleed to make sure that
happens.
During
a particularly brutal practice session, he looks up from his drum set to see
Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), Shaffer’s most revered – and feared –
conductor, standing in the doorway. This sudden appearance marks the beginning
of a mesmerizing partnership that becomes the sole focus of Andrew’s existence,
to the detriment of his relationships with his father (Paul Reiser) and his new
girlfriend (Melissa Benoist). All aspects of his life that aren’t music-related
melt away in pursuit of his descent into madness or an ascent into greatness,
depending on your perspective.
When
it comes to analyzing Whiplash, I have to be honest: I’m trying my best to
put the rest of this review into words instead of just typing 20 lines of
exclamation marks. I can’t remember the last time I had such a visceral
reaction to a film. There’s a beat in the last scene of the film – involving Teller’s
character hitting his cymbal at a precise moment – that made me lean forward in
my seat with my mouth hanging open. It’s incredibly powerful, and the music communicates
all the emotions. It was all I could do to refrain from cheering.
Stuff
like that is what makes the movie so great; Chazelle wisely directs the focus
of every technical aspect of filmmaking toward the two central powerhouse
performances, highlighting just how special they are – just observe the
frequent whip pans as the camera moves back and forth between the characters.
Teller
continues to prove why he’s one of my favorite young actors with his depiction
of Andrew. He completely sells the character’s transformation from a kid who
can’t even make eye contact with a cute girl to a confident, aggressive hothead
who shuts down a family dinner by verbally destroying his father’s friends.
That’s
due to the unparalleled chemistry Teller has with his co-star. Simmons is too
amazing for words, delivering his greatest performance in a career filled with
brilliant work. He’s absolutely terrifying (and often blisteringly funny at the
same time), but there’s no denying the results of Fletcher’s methods.
Even
more compelling, Chazelle doesn’t make him a total monster. Late in the film,
there’s a scene where the teacher unpacks his philosophy for Andrew and he’s
dangerously persuasive. He’s so powerful, so charismatic, that he can utter the
phrase, “there are no two words in the English language more harmful than ‘good
job’” and you totally buy it.
Current
buzz has Whiplash as a Best Picture contender and Simmons as a shoo-in for a
Best Supporting Actor nomination, but Teller is equally worthy of recognition. I
can’t recommend the film highly enough. It’s one of the most thrilling
experiences I’ve had in a theater this year.
Whiplash is rated
R for strong language including some sexual references.
Grade:
A
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