Running time: 107 minutes
Screenplay: Damien Chazelle
Director: Damien Chazelle
Starring: Miles Teller, J.K. Simmons, Paul Reiser, Melissa Benoist, Austin Stowell, Nate Lang
|Fletcher, looking closely for the smallest mistake to punish.|
Andrew gets the attention of Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), who picks him for the school's jazz band. Fletcher is a monster, relentless in his pressure to push his students to greatness, belittling then for even the smallest mistakes - he is genuinely outraged when the music isn't completely flawless. Simmons skirts the edges of caricature, but never crosses over, becoming instead a towering presence, terrifyingly single-minded in his attempts to mould greatness.
Andrew is determined enough to respond to Fletcher's goading and pushes himself harder and harder. Neither of these two characters are particularly likable - Andrew sees everything other than practise as an unwelcome distraction, from girlfriend Nicole (Melissa Benoist) to dinner guests, whom he sees as mediocre nobodies to regard with only contempt. It's when these two are together, Andrew behind the drum kit, Fletcher ready to vent his spleen at any imperfection, that Whiplash is truly terrific. The tension between them, winding higher and higher, makes for glorious viewing.
|Just the end of another day of practice.|
After the air has cleared, following Fletcher losing his job due to his abusive teaching methods, the two appear to be on slightly better terms, but it just sets the scene for the blistering finale. Fletcher, guessing correctly the Andrew had testified against him, sets him up to destroy any hope of a career, but it is here you finally begin to route for Andrew. Refusing to let his tormentor/mentor get the better of him, the performance at the climax focuses on just the two of them, ignoring almost everything else, including a packed concert hall, becoming as intimate as a sex scene. Teller is utterly convincing in his performance, appearing to play the drums as well as anyone in the world, and Simmons, conducting with a rapturous intensity, conveys everything with his eyes - beaten in this game of one-upmanship, he is nevertheless delighted by the extraordinary talent his excessive methods have produced.
The film doesn't appear to judge Fletcher's methods; it leaves it for you to decide if it was worth it, but there is no doubt in the minds of both Andrew and Fletcher - it was worth every last drop of blood.
Just mesmerising to watch.
Praise is overflowing for Whiplash, as shown in these reviews from Robbie at the Telegraph and Geoffrey at the Independent.