Premise: a tough teacher with heterodox methods who manipulates and mistreats a promising protegé in order to make a triumph of him. The former gets away with psychological torture and even physical abuse in a manner that, in real life, would get him fired and banned from his profession in 15 seconds, and yet he succeeds... even when trying to undermine the poor kid. In another movie this would turn me off completely and make me snore for the whole 107 minutes.
Instead, it is one of the most thrilling flicks I have ever seen. It put me firmly in the edge of my seat.
That's because the "art" at stake is no McGuffin. The jazz drumming is a third, more powerful protagonist than either the bully or the victim, or their face-off - despite the undeniably excellent performances (JK Simmons is a slam dunk at the Oscar). The characters say what they are doing is all about the music, about becoming Charlie Parker, about being "one of the greats".
But in reality you could not pull off this story with any other jazz instrument - certainly not with Parker's saxophone.
I can't stress it enough. Damn the brass, the woodwinds, the bass. In the drums there is something visceral, at the same time primitive and sublime that comes through in a away music listeners perhaps never realized. The instrument forces the character to bleed, to suffer, to submit his mind to the beat, to the merciless tempo, to the task of commanding the band at the same time the player seems to be in the background. It demands his transfiguration into a brute who brings delight. It is much tougher than the sadistic, over-the-top teacher.
The movie is about taming an instrument more than Karate Kid is about karate, or the first half of Full Metal Jacket is about making soldiers. More than any sports movie are about a sport. You never cared so much about the activity that supposedly is there only to provide the plot, without even noticing it.
And you don't realize it, because the characters never discuss the particularities of the dreaded sticks, snares and cymbals. Not for one second. Maybe that is the brilliancy of Whiplash. People talk about the drum set as if it was any other jazz instrument. It is not! Instead, they just show and show and show challenge of the drumming. You live it, you suffer it, and you are enchanted by it. There is a reason the first and last shots of the movie, both abrupt, have Andrew at the stool, hitting the cymbals with all his energy and skill. In the end you don't know why you loved the movie, despite the stock characters, weak plot twist, and clichéd situations that stretch credulity. You are swept, and wonder what is there that you never seen before. The drum set is omnipresent yet and nearly unmentioned. It's alive. The drum set is the real appeal of Whiplash. It IS Whiplash.
The piece that gives the movie its title and is played over and over has a heterodox, challenging time signature. Seven beats per measure. Maybe this strangeness contributes, but I don't know jazz enough to say for sure. The direction is above par, stylish and discreet at the same time. The actors are brilliant. But who cares? Just hit the notes, Andy, until you bleed, get beaten up by the instrument until your brain turns into mush, and ultimately produce pure art.
Instead, it is one of the most thrilling flicks I have ever seen. It put me firmly in the edge of my seat.
That's because the "art" at stake is no McGuffin. The jazz drumming is a third, more powerful protagonist than either the bully or the victim, or their face-off - despite the undeniably excellent performances (JK Simmons is a slam dunk at the Oscar). The characters say what they are doing is all about the music, about becoming Charlie Parker, about being "one of the greats".
But in reality you could not pull off this story with any other jazz instrument - certainly not with Parker's saxophone.
I can't stress it enough. Damn the brass, the woodwinds, the bass. In the drums there is something visceral, at the same time primitive and sublime that comes through in a away music listeners perhaps never realized. The instrument forces the character to bleed, to suffer, to submit his mind to the beat, to the merciless tempo, to the task of commanding the band at the same time the player seems to be in the background. It demands his transfiguration into a brute who brings delight. It is much tougher than the sadistic, over-the-top teacher.
The movie is about taming an instrument more than Karate Kid is about karate, or the first half of Full Metal Jacket is about making soldiers. More than any sports movie are about a sport. You never cared so much about the activity that supposedly is there only to provide the plot, without even noticing it.
And you don't realize it, because the characters never discuss the particularities of the dreaded sticks, snares and cymbals. Not for one second. Maybe that is the brilliancy of Whiplash. People talk about the drum set as if it was any other jazz instrument. It is not! Instead, they just show and show and show challenge of the drumming. You live it, you suffer it, and you are enchanted by it. There is a reason the first and last shots of the movie, both abrupt, have Andrew at the stool, hitting the cymbals with all his energy and skill. In the end you don't know why you loved the movie, despite the stock characters, weak plot twist, and clichéd situations that stretch credulity. You are swept, and wonder what is there that you never seen before. The drum set is omnipresent yet and nearly unmentioned. It's alive. The drum set is the real appeal of Whiplash. It IS Whiplash.
The piece that gives the movie its title and is played over and over has a heterodox, challenging time signature. Seven beats per measure. Maybe this strangeness contributes, but I don't know jazz enough to say for sure. The direction is above par, stylish and discreet at the same time. The actors are brilliant. But who cares? Just hit the notes, Andy, until you bleed, get beaten up by the instrument until your brain turns into mush, and ultimately produce pure art.