Like the slow rhythmic tapping on the drumskin, Damian Chazelle’s exhaustively brilliant drama begins as a quiet character study, slowly works in its astonishing acting components as an accompanying beat, before exploding into a bloodied knuckle crescendo of a finale which ranks as one of the very best performed, edited, and emotionally stimulating scenes in recent memory.
So very much more than a percussion heavy Rocky or an exercise in battle-of-the-bands predictability, Whiplash is a psychological war between student and teacher, one which pushes both to the very limits of physical and emotional abuse.
Andrew (Miles Teller) attends the premier music school in America in the hope of becoming the next Charlie “Bird” Parker. A quiet student, he finds it hard to integrate with his peers and bandmates, with his social life reduced to movie nights with his dad (Paul Reiser), or cripplingly shy half-chats with the girl who sells the popcorn (Melissa Benoist).
The reason the school is held in such high regard is that lurking through frosted glass classroom windows or dimly lit corridors is the equally driven, spittle fuelled figure of bottled rage that is Mr Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), for whom it is considered an honour to be selected as one of his core players.
With Andrew’s talent and Fletcher’s ear for it, their paths were destined to cross, so when they do, a war of wills begins, one that sees both lose as much as they gain. But for the young protégée, the incessant mind-games, put-downs, and substantial body turmoil threaten to break him altogether.
An astonishing symphony, Whiplash is first and foremost a meticulously well made film.
Chazelle’s influences are there from the off. The jazz soundtrack helps, but you can’t help but be stirred by the similarities to Scorsese with the smoke filled opening scenes, and the way in which Simmons is introduced as the mythical authoritarian.
With tracking shots down the sparse school corridors, it’s unavoidably Kubrickian too, and helps to establish an air of fear in a narrative that could easily be interpreted as horror. Intentional or not, they’re complementary comparisons.
However, the director’s calling card for now and the foreseeable future will be a sequence of such incredible ingenuity and musical kineticism that caps off the film. The editing is taut, flitting between Simmons and Teller as the drama and beats intensify, and coupled with the pay-off of their individual performances and character arcs, results in a spine-tingling, finger-tapping, standing ovation kind of cathartic moment which happens all too rarely in this medium.
With a screenplay that seems as intricately scripted as a piece of annotated sheet music, Whiplash isn’t just about loud noises.
There is a family dinner sequence during which the cutting dialogue is as tight as any drum solo: funny, uncomfortable, and perfectly serving the fully rounded characters which have been created.
Two of whom give career defining performances: Teller because he’s returning to the kind of wounded, self-analytical soul echoed from his brilliant turn in Rabbit Hole. It’s a committed, wince inducing performance as shattering to watch as it must have been to act out. He earns our sympathy, applause, and sporadic laughter as he goes head-to-head with Simmons.
The veteran actor, known for his witty retorts and no-BS manner, dials it up to 11 here, with a turn of such imposing misogyny, homophobia, and downright nastiness, with only the slightest hint of humanity to lull the audience and Andrew into a false sense of security, before being slapped in the face by another outburst.
On their own they’re outstanding, together they’re untouchable. The chemistry through conflict on display here is as a result of some of the best acting this decade. If those words aren’t convincing enough then wait until you’ve seen the “rushing or dragging” sequence. It’s brutal.
Having said that, don’t worry that Whiplash is going to be as depressing as living next to an angry teenager with a drumkit in his garage. There are plenty of light-hearted moments to go with those that you watch between fingers, fingers that will be tapping away on your leg a matter of seconds later.
It goes without saying that Whiplash is played at everyone’s tempo.
‘Whiplash’
Director: Damian Chazelle
Starring: Miles Teller, J.K. Simmons, Paul Reiser, Melissa Benoist
Running time: 1 hour, 46 minutes
Release date: Jan. 16, 2015 (UK)
5 stars out of 5
Follow Matthew Rodgers on Twitter: @MainstreamMatt
