Damien Chazelle. A man the majority of us hadn’t heard of until the universally acclaimed exploits of his sophomore venture: Whiplash – named after the Hank Levy composition used in the film – earned him a place on the bill of nominees at a number of major award ceremonies this year. After his professional writing and directorial debut:Guy And Madeleine On A Park Bench received strong critical acclaim throughout its lengthy 2009-10 festival run, those who where ‘in the know’ about this ‘genius’ as some have referred to him as – most notably J.K. Simmons – would have sat down at screenings with bated breath to see what would become of the project’s evolution from a short to a feature, and boy were they right to do so.
Whiplash tells the tempestuous story of drummer Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller – Divergent) – a 19-year-old freshman at the Shaffer Conservatory of Music – and his studio band conductor: Terrence Fletcher’s (J.K. Simmons – Spiderman Trilogy) increasingly brutal ‘relationship’ – if you could call it that. The pair initially encounter a somewhat chance meeting during the Fall/Autumn semester – Neiman is practising one evening and Fletcher overhears. What subsequently ensues is a high-tension, arduous journey of frustration, determination and in essence: self-discovery as Andrew pushes himself beyond what he believed he was capable of, while Terrence continues to strive to find and mould his very own ‘Charlie Parker’. This pursuit of greatness leads to the mimicking of what was a defining event in the real-life sax-virtuoso’s rise to legendary status: the moment Jo Jones threw a cymbal at Parker’s feet during a jam session in Kansas City – although in the film this is altered to his head for dramatic effect, with Fletcher instead selecting a folded metal chair as his weapon of choice.
There are no two words in the English language, more harmful than ‘good job’
– Terrence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons)
Regardless of age, lifestyle or background, I’m sure we’ve all been in a situation somewhat similar to the one Neiman finds himself in – maybe even Fletcher as well. It is this deeply realistic factor of the film’s narrative that entrusts it with the power to engross, indulge and command the emphatic nature of each and every viewer. The world will always need works of pure art like Whiplash – an intimately unifying exploration of dedication and willpower, so typically human in every aspect. Which is funny in a way, considering at various points, both Andrew & Terrence manage to lose touch of their humanity.
So much of this genuine, sympathetic connection we as an audience establish with the two lead characters – most likely through comparative experiences relating to either – must be attributed to both the exquisitely executed performances of Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons as well as Damien Chazelle’s consummate ingenuity and flawless judgement concerning the necessity – or lack there of – for detailed, emotive visuals throughout. It was no surprise to see J.K. Simmons collect the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor, as his portrayal of Terrence Fletcher’s excessively abusive and obsessive ethos for success resonates such potent obstinance, that he is incredibly deserving of each and every accolade he receives for this role. The same goes for Miles Teller, who’s dedication to the part of Andrew Neiman is enough in itself to warrant considerable recognition – having spent 4 hours practising, 3 days a week leading up to the 19-day shoot, in order to transpose his playing style from the matched grip he was familiar with, to a traditional grip for jazz compositions.
Considering the fact that Chazelle – in a way – may still be considered a fairly inexperienced auteur, Whiplash is an absolutely phenomenal feature. One that many a seasoned compatriot of the craft would be extremely proud of. To borrow from the dictionary of Terrence Fletcher: this is a film that is neither dragging nor rushing, but right on tempo.
Words by Alex Graham