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Whiplash, 2014
An aspiring drummer at a prestigious music conservatory, Andrew (Miles Teller), lands on the radar of a highly demanding, abusive instructor named Fletcher (JK Simmons). As Fletcher ups his mind games and manipulations, Andrew moves closer and closer to a breaking point.
So . . . did this film actually need to be longer than 30 minutes? I ask this not because there is anything wrong with the film, but because, interestingly enough, it fully gets its point across in the first two scenes between Andrew and Fletcher. Fletcher is a textbook abuser: he rains down derision and deeply personal attacks, alternating them with just enough praise and motivational moments to imply that his actions come from a place of being firm but fair. After all, he's just trying to bring out the best in them.
It's unsurprising that Simmons got so much attention for his performance here: he absolutely nails the mentor/abuser dynamic. Everything about the character is perfect: the casual sexism and homophobia (under the umbrella of just being "truthful"), the trick of turning the students on each other, the thinly-veiled ego-centrism (those tight black T-shirts are an amazing touch). And Teller is a good counter-part, conveying the perfect storm of drive and need that would lead a person to lean in to such abuse and internalize its messages.
Something that gave me a bit of pause about the film was the way that it approaches its central question. The film asks its own question out loud in the third act: is there such a thing as too far? And the film does acknowledge the damage of Fletcher's techniques, whether that's through
. But one thing that the film never shows is the idea that greatness can be achieved by anything other than rigorous, abusive demand. It's true that some people respond to such pressure by rising past their previous limitations, but these methods are not the ONLY way to get there. Yet the film seems to posit it as an all-or-nothing: either dive into the abuse and being pushed violently, or give up your dreams. I can understand why Andrew sees it as a dichotomy this way--and the film is highly subjective--but I wish that the movie itself had given a nod to a third option. There are people at the top of their field who don't seem to have gotten that way because someone beat them into greatness.
This film honestly made me think a lot of the documentary Athlete A, which was about the sexual abuse perpetrated against members of the USA Gymnastics team, but was also about the broader abuse (mental, physical, emotional) of the entire gymnastics program.
Despite having some mixed feelings about the film's message, I did think that the final sequence was incredibly satisfying. It ends on a very powerful note. While the middle third felt redundant at times (oh, look, more insults! More abuse!), it finds a solid footing in the last 20 minutes or so.
From a style point of view, my only complaint was the way that the band sequences were shot. Music is exciting enough on its own, and the frequent zoom into trumpets or saxophones felt too much like someone trying to make music exciting.
It's not a film that I can imagine wanting to watch again, but I enjoyed it and the performances from both Teller and Simmons are worthy of their praise.
Whiplash, 2014
An aspiring drummer at a prestigious music conservatory, Andrew (Miles Teller), lands on the radar of a highly demanding, abusive instructor named Fletcher (JK Simmons). As Fletcher ups his mind games and manipulations, Andrew moves closer and closer to a breaking point.
So . . . did this film actually need to be longer than 30 minutes? I ask this not because there is anything wrong with the film, but because, interestingly enough, it fully gets its point across in the first two scenes between Andrew and Fletcher. Fletcher is a textbook abuser: he rains down derision and deeply personal attacks, alternating them with just enough praise and motivational moments to imply that his actions come from a place of being firm but fair. After all, he's just trying to bring out the best in them.
It's unsurprising that Simmons got so much attention for his performance here: he absolutely nails the mentor/abuser dynamic. Everything about the character is perfect: the casual sexism and homophobia (under the umbrella of just being "truthful"), the trick of turning the students on each other, the thinly-veiled ego-centrism (those tight black T-shirts are an amazing touch). And Teller is a good counter-part, conveying the perfect storm of drive and need that would lead a person to lean in to such abuse and internalize its messages.
Something that gave me a bit of pause about the film was the way that it approaches its central question. The film asks its own question out loud in the third act: is there such a thing as too far? And the film does acknowledge the damage of Fletcher's techniques, whether that's through
WARNING: spoilers below
one of his students committing suicide, or through other students leaving the program
This film honestly made me think a lot of the documentary Athlete A, which was about the sexual abuse perpetrated against members of the USA Gymnastics team, but was also about the broader abuse (mental, physical, emotional) of the entire gymnastics program.
Despite having some mixed feelings about the film's message, I did think that the final sequence was incredibly satisfying. It ends on a very powerful note. While the middle third felt redundant at times (oh, look, more insults! More abuse!), it finds a solid footing in the last 20 minutes or so.
From a style point of view, my only complaint was the way that the band sequences were shot. Music is exciting enough on its own, and the frequent zoom into trumpets or saxophones felt too much like someone trying to make music exciting.
It's not a film that I can imagine wanting to watch again, but I enjoyed it and the performances from both Teller and Simmons are worthy of their praise.