The setting is an urban music conservatory, similar in esteem and exclusivity to, say, Juilliard. Unlike most colleges though, we get a sense of intimacy. The sprawling and lush green campuses of normal universities are replaced with darkened rooms and muffled musical instruments of unknown origin. We meet Andrew, a freshman drum student alone with his kit. He practices with intense focus, his shirt soaked with sweat. Studying late, it seems. From the darkness comes Fletcher, a respected conductor and professor, hellbent on finding a core team for his jazz band. Their first meeting sets the tone. Andrew had dreams of greatness, and Fletcher is the God at those pearly gates to infamy, and he is anything but polite.
In an intermediate jazz class, Andrew plays with fellow students, the room coldly lit and equally inhabited. It is clear Andrew has not come to school to socialize. He sits on a stool behind the first drummer, anxiously waiting his turn to play. In comes Fletcher. Like a drill sergeant, the class comes to attention, and he methodically tests each student for any sign of potential and talent. Andrew plays perhaps 1 measure of drums. So does the first drummer. Who's to hear any difference? Fletcher does, and invites Andrew to join his ensemble bright and early the next morning.
Just as one would expect, his class is anything but fun. Andrew sits as backup to the drummer, a job which is essentially a page turner. Fletcher arrives in class and immediately commands his pupils' attention. With a slight flick of his wrist, the ensemble bursts into music. We see Fletcher stop the band, citing a flat musician amongst them. He instructs each instrument to play a bar separately. Narrowing it down to a single trombone player, he asks the student if his instrument is flat. The student, terrified, nods yes. Erupting in a burst of anger, Fletcher removes him from the band, and once he is gone, reveals that "he wasn't even flat. The fact that he didn't know if he was or wasn't is even worse..."
Andrew comes to claim the chair of first drummer mostly through circumstance, and he believes it is because he has earned Fletcher's respect. He works his students hard, and even at the cost of Andrew breaking up with his girlfriend, he sees this as the key to his long-awaited fame.
Or so he thinks...
What Damien Chazelle (the director, and his second film no less) realizes is that the great villains are those that we love to hate. Fletcher could easily be turned into a screaming maniac who drives his students to the edge with no consequence. Not so. There are glimpses of humanity: Fletcher's conversation with a small girl about piano lessons, news that one of his former students recently passed away that leaves him in tears, the smile as he hears his band succeed... Fletcher is surely one of the most vile characters on film this year, but it is his humanity that compels the story forward.
Midway to the end, Andrew sits with Fletcher at a bar (as circumstances have dramatically changed), and Fletcher discusses his teaching methods. Yes, he is an unlikeable man, but his drive is and always was to find the next great musician, one that is for the ages. Andrew asks whether or not his methods could have scared off the next great talent. Not the case, says Fletcher, a great musician would never be discouraged...
The two characters at the center of this story are great for their own reasons, and it is clear that J.K. Simmons will hog most of the spotlight. Deservedly so. From the laughable, lovable man he has come to represent in the movies, here he is completely unhinged and unlike anything I have seen before. Miles Teller is Andrew, the student, buttery in the face but dedicated to his craft. In the classroom, the lights are dim, and Fletcher is but a floating head that sits in the shadows at the front. Andrew at drums is exposed: prey. The two mercilessly work towards perfection, with literal blood pouring out of them in the hopes of approval. Fletcher shows no mercy, and Andrew takes none. These are career-defining performances, one from an actor in his prime, and one from a fairly new-comer. The talent displayed is beyond belief.
The film concludes with one gobsmacked hell of a finale, and even for those who are not musically-inclined, this is a climax that will leave you pulseless. Fletcher conducts a jazz ensemble in Carnegie Hall, of which he selects Andrew to be his drummer. Fletcher, having been fired from his teaching job, now realizing who is to blame, sets a plan in motion to ruin Andrew's dreams forever. Or does he? I can't reveal anything more of the plot, but the film ends with a drum solo that truly is astounding, one that is the realization of Fletcher's hopes as a teacher and Andrew's longing for eternal fame. In the very same scene, we go from an absolute hatred of Fletcher to the core, to a deep warmth when we see his smile upon realizing his work has not been in vain. Even thinking about it, my heart races and the chills race up and down my body. Not often has a film been so fully realized with an ending to match. It truly brought tears to my eyes.
"Whiplash" deserves to be at the top of any yearly movie list because, quite frankly, it earns it. Just as we see Andrew's drum set soaked red with blood, so does this film bear a mark unlike most I have seen: the absolute authenticity that comes from raw storytelling. This movie strips its audience bare and wins them over, one beat at a time...
(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Simmons (who is apparently campaigning in supporting because... who knows), Teller), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Original Score, Best Editing, Best Sound Mixing, Best Cinematography)
Just as one would expect, his class is anything but fun. Andrew sits as backup to the drummer, a job which is essentially a page turner. Fletcher arrives in class and immediately commands his pupils' attention. With a slight flick of his wrist, the ensemble bursts into music. We see Fletcher stop the band, citing a flat musician amongst them. He instructs each instrument to play a bar separately. Narrowing it down to a single trombone player, he asks the student if his instrument is flat. The student, terrified, nods yes. Erupting in a burst of anger, Fletcher removes him from the band, and once he is gone, reveals that "he wasn't even flat. The fact that he didn't know if he was or wasn't is even worse..."
Andrew comes to claim the chair of first drummer mostly through circumstance, and he believes it is because he has earned Fletcher's respect. He works his students hard, and even at the cost of Andrew breaking up with his girlfriend, he sees this as the key to his long-awaited fame.
Or so he thinks...
What Damien Chazelle (the director, and his second film no less) realizes is that the great villains are those that we love to hate. Fletcher could easily be turned into a screaming maniac who drives his students to the edge with no consequence. Not so. There are glimpses of humanity: Fletcher's conversation with a small girl about piano lessons, news that one of his former students recently passed away that leaves him in tears, the smile as he hears his band succeed... Fletcher is surely one of the most vile characters on film this year, but it is his humanity that compels the story forward.
Midway to the end, Andrew sits with Fletcher at a bar (as circumstances have dramatically changed), and Fletcher discusses his teaching methods. Yes, he is an unlikeable man, but his drive is and always was to find the next great musician, one that is for the ages. Andrew asks whether or not his methods could have scared off the next great talent. Not the case, says Fletcher, a great musician would never be discouraged...
The two characters at the center of this story are great for their own reasons, and it is clear that J.K. Simmons will hog most of the spotlight. Deservedly so. From the laughable, lovable man he has come to represent in the movies, here he is completely unhinged and unlike anything I have seen before. Miles Teller is Andrew, the student, buttery in the face but dedicated to his craft. In the classroom, the lights are dim, and Fletcher is but a floating head that sits in the shadows at the front. Andrew at drums is exposed: prey. The two mercilessly work towards perfection, with literal blood pouring out of them in the hopes of approval. Fletcher shows no mercy, and Andrew takes none. These are career-defining performances, one from an actor in his prime, and one from a fairly new-comer. The talent displayed is beyond belief.
The film concludes with one gobsmacked hell of a finale, and even for those who are not musically-inclined, this is a climax that will leave you pulseless. Fletcher conducts a jazz ensemble in Carnegie Hall, of which he selects Andrew to be his drummer. Fletcher, having been fired from his teaching job, now realizing who is to blame, sets a plan in motion to ruin Andrew's dreams forever. Or does he? I can't reveal anything more of the plot, but the film ends with a drum solo that truly is astounding, one that is the realization of Fletcher's hopes as a teacher and Andrew's longing for eternal fame. In the very same scene, we go from an absolute hatred of Fletcher to the core, to a deep warmth when we see his smile upon realizing his work has not been in vain. Even thinking about it, my heart races and the chills race up and down my body. Not often has a film been so fully realized with an ending to match. It truly brought tears to my eyes.
"Whiplash" deserves to be at the top of any yearly movie list because, quite frankly, it earns it. Just as we see Andrew's drum set soaked red with blood, so does this film bear a mark unlike most I have seen: the absolute authenticity that comes from raw storytelling. This movie strips its audience bare and wins them over, one beat at a time...
(Awards potential: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Simmons (who is apparently campaigning in supporting because... who knows), Teller), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Original Score, Best Editing, Best Sound Mixing, Best Cinematography)
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