If I had to choose one word to describe Whiplash, it would be “intense.” I first saw Whiplash back in January at the Sundance Film Festival (where it won both the Audience Award and the Grand Jury Award). My jaw was literally dropped through almost the entire film. This week I watched it again as it premiered in LA. Even though I knew what to expect, I was still blown away by the intensity of this film.
J.K. Simmons’ performance as the aggressively harsh jazz instructor Mr. Fletcher is astonishing. A teacher at one of the best music schools in the country, Fletcher believes in pushing people beyond what they are capable of in order to foster greatness in them. As he tells Miles Teller’s character Andrew Neyman, “There are no two words in the English language more harmful than ‘good job.'” However, Fletcher’s methods are less than conventional. He regularly subjects his students to enormous amounts of verbal, mental, and emotional abuse whenever they disappoint him. Every single one of his actions, however abrasive, have the intention of pushing his students toward a high level of perfection.
Like so many other great films, the intensity in Whiplash builds steadily until its climax, which arrives at the perfect moment. The final scene was the most compelling ten minutes of film I have seen all year. It encapsulates the relationship between Fletcher and Neyman more aptly than any other scene in the film. Rather than relying on dialogue to carry the scene, it makes use of the emotions on the actors’ faces as well as the music, cinematography, and editing. It delivers a rousing conclusion that earned a standing ovation when it screened at Sundance.
The cinematography in Whiplash is brilliant, filled with rapid pans and sharp cuts that paralleled elements of the music (such as the precise beats of Neyman’s drumming). Cinematographer Sharone Meir masterfully utilizes every frame to communicate the full impact of each scene. One of my favorite shots is when a drop of Neyman’s own blood splashes onto a cymbal in slow motion. In a similarly powerful shot, the camera is shifted 90 degrees as Neyman’s bloody hand plunges horizontally across the screen into a clear bucket of ice water. As the water slowly turns red, Neyman then goes right back to drumming once his hands are suitably numbed. Brutal shots like these reminded me of the uncomfortable level to which Neyman is willing to push himself. He possesses a relentless drive for perfection that ignores any amount of pain.
Whiplash is a deeply provocative film which asks many tough questions. How far is too far? What is the acceptable limit to which students can be pushed? Does the end justify the means? Is Fletcher’s philosophy of teaching appropriate if he can justify it with results – such as students in which he is able to foster greatness? Is greatness worth pursuing if it requires a tremendous amount of pain? Yes, pain is often a necessary part of growth, but at what point does pain stop being helpful and start to become harmful?
Our culture has attempted to answer these questions in a variety of ways, with mixed results. One such response is best represented by the “participation trophy,” something which I remember from my own childhood. The use of the participation trophy sought to downplay the negative aura associated with losing and held that even if you did not win, it was still better to participate and just try your best. It was often accompanied by those two words that Fletcher hates so much: “Good job.” This approach is well illustrated in the 2006 Sundance film Little Miss Sunshine through the way in which the Hoover family encourages young Olive’s desire to enter a beauty pageant that they know she is destined to lose.
At the other end of the spectrum is a harsh approach like Fletcher’s. There are many today who relish success so much that they are willing to allow a tremendous amount of abuse in order to achieve that success. The reality television show Dance Moms illustrates this mindset. The show’s lead, Abby Lee Miller, is somewhat of a real-life Fletcher. Her teaching method is grueling and harsh. She has been able to produce greatness in many of her dancers (some of them thrive under the intense pressure just like Neyman did). Her methods have proven to be quite harmful to others (last week the family of one of the former young dancers filed suit against Miller, accusing her of alleged physical, mental, and emotional abuse). This show is a prime example of the extreme educational philosophy embodied by Fletcher in Whiplash.
Whiplash is an incredibly well-written, beautifully shot, and masterfully directed film. It deserves our attention for those reasons alone. Yet it is also worthy of a deeper look because it asks some very compelling moral questions. Whether you identify more closely with Neyman, Fletcher, or fall somewhere in between, Whiplash will cause you to evaluate your own beliefs about how you value success.
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