In Whiplash we are
confronted with the meaning of artistic greatness and what we can, would, and should
do for it. The story of a student jazz drummer in a prestigious music school and his
submissiveness and eventual confrontation with his tyrannical instructor does
not seem to be an original theme to start with, but the usual teacher-student Hollywood
clichés are rendered useless here almost from the beginning, as any sense of our
current sense of “fairness” and political correctness is destroyed with
impunity.
It is up to the audience to decide if the instructor Terence
Fletcher (J.K. Simmons) is a good-intentioned monster or if he is just a
monster, plain and simple. He challenges his students with demands that seem to
be absurd, creates jealousy among them and shakes any sense of comfort that they
could legitimately aspire to. On the other side, Andrew Neyman (Miles Teller),
the student, is not painted with rosy colors either. He is serious, he is
ambitious, and his bleeding hands are a testimony of his dedication. However,
we detect a scent of arrogance in his interventions during a family dinner, and
he unexpectedly severs his relationship with a nice girlfriend that we have barely
seen onscreen and who provides a tenuous link with normalcy in his life.
Director Damien Chazelle takes both characters to a sophisticated
and cruel confrontation on the limits of sanity. Showing restraint and economy in
every scene, supported by amazing actors, and achieving a top-notch technical level
during the music performances, Whiplash delivers punch after punch of intense,
unpredictable, and genuine situations.
This might be my favorite nominee for Best Picture in the
Oscars 2015.
