Movie Review: Whiplash

Whiplash (2014)

Five Stars out of Five

R

Andrew Neiman: Miles Teller

Terrence Fletcher: JK Simmons (2015 Oscar Winner for Best Supporting Actor)

Writer/Director: Damien Chazelle (2015 Oscar Nominee for Best Picture and Adapted Screenplay)

Music: Justin Hurwitz

Film Editing: Tom Cross (2015 Oscar Winner for Film Editing)

also 2015 Oscar Winner for Sound Mixing

Cinematography:  Sharon Meir

I have always found Film Editing to be one of the most difficult aspects of movie making to review. However, every once in a while a movie like “Whiplash” comes along where the genius of great film editing is there for all to experience. From the opening minutes in 2014’s “Whiplash”, the viewer is catapulted into a series of camera angles, lighting, writing and acting sequences that go so far in the first ten minutes of “Whiplash” to tell the whole story and rhythm of the movie; you must be thinking what an incredible movie and film editing experience you have just begun. But why point out the film editing if it is the cinematography, acting or directing that makes all of those film segments work? Because it is the sequencing and exquisite timing of each segment that the film editor uses as he links them together that can break or in the case of “Whiplash” make a good film into a great film. To say that the film editing is the only even the primary reason Whiplash has earned five stars from me in this review would be a major disservice to JK Simmons’ acting or Damien Chazelle’s writing and directing; all are of the highest caliber.

“Whiplash” is a story of a young music student, Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller) in his first year at the prestigious (but fictional) Shaffer School of Music in New York. Writer/director Chazelle has crafted a story of ambition and clash of wills from his own experience in a high school band. I kept thinking throughout the movie, that it could have come from his experience in a US Marine Corp boot camp; it certainly made me think of boot camp. Andrew’s experience at Shaffer begins its rocky ascent as he is confronted late in the day practicing his drums by the school’s predominant (and dominating) music conductor, Terrence Fletcher (JK Simmons). Fletcher sees or hears something in Andrew that results in him eventually inviting Andrew to join his premier jazz band. That Andrew’s ascension to core drummer for Fletcher’s band comes with a series of hard knocks is quite an understatement.

Fletcher verbally and quite nearly physically abuses his entire band. When Andrew fails to keep the tempo during the Jazz standard, Whiplash, Fletcher screams at him, and eventually actually throws a chair at Andrew. It is interesting to watch the other band members during one of Fletcher’s outbursts, it is so reminiscent of boot camp as to be truly amazing – they all have their heads down; no doubt each is thinking as regards Fletcher, don’t, please don’t look at me. The entire band has been bent to Fletcher’s iron will. He states later in the movie that he feels such an “education” is one that is the only way to bring out the genius in a player, presuming that genius is there to bring out. He uses an example of how a cymbal was thrown at the head of Charlie “The Bird” Parker” early in his career for a poor performance. This cymbal motivated The Bird to practice and practice until he became the genius the world now knows him to be - or at least this the version Fletcher believes. It is Fletcher’s firm conviction that his job is to throw “cymbals” at his students, searching for the next Charlie Parker. It comes as little surprise that he also states that he has yet to find such a genius.

This should come as little surprise when one considers the seeming free form of Jazz wherein each soloist looks within to find that musical thread that he or she will explore, and in doing so achieve the artistic heights of Charlie Parker. How do you intimidate genius out of someone; is it the same as inspiring genius or simply abuse? But the misplaced intentions of Terrence Fletcher are not the point of “Whiplash”, nor even the screaming intensity that Andrew pounds into himself as he works to the point of bloody hands and a near fatal car accident to meet Fletcher’s approval. The point of “Whiplash” is watch the remarkable clash of wills and the overpowering ambitious drive each of the two protagonists are willing to exert as they move forward in their drive to perfection. Andrew will sacrifice his relationship to a girlfriend, seriously endanger his relationship to a loving father (well played by Paul Reiser), and drive himself to the point of a nervous breakdown. In the other corner stands Fletcher, a conductor and teacher willing to break down through humiliation and a million other mind games each of his students; willing to break them down so that he can in his view build them up as the genius musicians he demands for “his” band; and in fact willing to drive at least one to suicide.

The driving beat that is used to accentuate the abuse heaped upon the students and the presumed mental breakdown taking place in Andrew’s personality are hard to sit through. My daughter has told me she was so upset watching this movie that she shouted at the screen. This is easy to understand, it is not an easy movie to watch. But it is an example of genius. There are no deep undercurrents of thought in this movie, just a primal conflict between two ambitious men that is told with an artistic vision rarely seen. Not an easy picture to watch, no, but if you stare at it and try to divorce your reaction to Fletcher’s abuse, or Andrew’s self-driven acts of self-destruction, ignore the effects of the driving drum beat, and focus on the techniques of how this story is told, you will like me, be awe-struck. Like the 2015 Oscar Best Picture, “Birdman”, “Whiplash” can be a painful movie experience, but it is so striking in its technique, it is a must see for any movie-goer interested in how great pictures are made and told.

One last point: can someone practice so long and with a similar intensity as shown in this movie that they can reach genius-hood?Would this work in basketball for example, but with less success in an area of endeavor where creativity is required to earn the sobriquet of genius? I think this is a rhetorical question for many areas of study, but I think especially so for a Jazz musician. Yes, they must be proficient musicians, but they must also be creative musicians- I don't think that comes from practice, but from some other deeper part of the human soul. Both are necessary, but neither is sufficient.