Review: Damien Chazelle’s ‘Whiplash’ a Powerful and Lasting Film About the Quest for, and Horrors of, Perfection

Advanced knowledge by this writer of several snippets of the film “Whiplash”—namely its supporting actor J.K. Simmons winning an Oscar by berating music students with physical and emotional abuse—left me with an incorrect assumption going into this film: that its protagonist, Andrew (Miles Teller) is a victim. But “Whiplash” is anything but. This is not a film with heroes and villains, or even one of right and wrong. It’s a film that drops you into its setting quickly and forcefully, and sets up characters that are anything but perfect. That word ‘perfect’ comes up a lot; it’s something its characters strive to be, damn the cost. Hell, damn any cost. 

The Best Thing this Side of Perfection

The film centers on the aforementioned Andrew, a gifted drummer who has enrolled in Shaffer Musical Conservatory, this movie’s obvious fictional stand-in for Juilliard. The opening scene sees him drumming by himself in a practice room; he’s sure of himself but not too sure. It isn’t long before Fletcher (Simmons), who we can only assume is the best teacher in the place, watches him, observes him, and quickly walks away, slamming the door when he doesn’t like what he hears. What doesn’t he like? It’s something reserved only for the best; mistakes when seeking perfection are clear only to the few. 

It isn’t long before Andrew gains a place as an alternate in Fletcher’s studio band; and the way Fletcher and Director Damien Chazelle wind up the proceedings, it’s clear where “Whiplash” got it’s name. “Whiplash” is a piece of Jazz music; it’s also the neck-jerking way Chazelle rips his characters from one emotion to the next with no segue. One moment newcomer Andrew is filled with encouragement from Fletcher; there’s a reason he’s here [at Shaffer] after all, and it’s to make good music and learn. However, the next moment, when Andrew can’t keep time, he’s a “worthless fuck” and Fletcher throws a chair at him. 

Of course, this is all meant—in Fletcher’s mind—to encourage Andrew, like other students, to ‘be the best.’ We learn of a past student of Fletcher’s who went on to success but then hung himself. The scene is apropos; Fletcher lies about the cause of death when he tells his students, but seems genuinely affected, tearful. His obliviousness of his role in this student’s suicide would be clinical if he didn’t know better, but he does. He believes pushing is necessary to achieve greatness, and only the great can accept volatile, abusive pushing and grow. The rest are weak, to be shipped off to lesser projects (in one of the film’s most elitist snobs, we see a poster that reads: ‘Those Who Are Not Good Enough Play in Rock Bands’). 

A Fine Line Between Abuse and Inspiration

In its way, “Whiplash” then sets up its abusive teacher/student relationship between Fletcher and Andrew. But the key here is that as toxic a person as Fletcher is, Andrew is no saint. He seems to ride a fine line between just a little cocky and downright elitist, and his malleable personality shifts and edges depending on wether or not he’s currently in Fletcher’s good graces. When Fletcher approves of him, he’s on cloud nine; when he doesn’t he hates the world, and probably himself.

A scene in a diner where he breaks up with a nice girl he’s dating (Melissa Benoist) because he’s certain she’ll stop him from reaching his dreams is startling. But it’s not long before he begins taking on a sense of inflated egotism and Fletcher’s worse qualities, berating his own bandmates with the same vitriol as Fletcher. Fletcher’s blessing is everything to him, but Fletcher’s abuse pushes him even further. And as Andrew shows up to play after being literally hit by a truck, blood dripping over his drum set, it’s hard not to see the parallel: perfection is literally killing him. 

There are plenty of actors that fill this film, most notably “Mad About You’s” Paul Reiser playing Andrew’s loving father, but let’s be honest: “Whiplash” is about Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons, and they both excel in their roles.

Simmons is in complete command here. He strikes you as both an erudite who wears the title ‘professor’ as something to be proud of, but is cold, calculating, and mostly emotionless. He dresses in all black for the film, no doubt purposive; yet seems draped in muted blues and greys when we see him playing a soft piano in a Jazz club later. The music is slow, beautiful, soulful. Is this the same man who made Andrew count to four while slapping his face just an hour ago? Simmons’ Fletcher is the type of man to whom abuse comes as easily as breathing. It comes so easily, in fact, that we believe, watching him, that he does’t even see it as abuse. He sees it as the goal of a good teacher—to inspire. 

A Cautionary Tale of Seeking the Best No Matter What

Alongside him, Teller plays the eager student, the one who is inspired to do better the more abusive Fletcher becomes. He’s a man driven by one purpose, perfection, and one who doesn’t see a need for friends or colleagues in any traditional sense. His tunnel vision drives him to perfection. And the end of the film—not to be spoiled here—featuring a showdown between Fletcher and Andrew has the raw power of awe. We’re not seeing the triumph of a disgraced student finally coming into his own; we’re witnessing a perfection-asker seeing perfection. But the result is not pretty, or triumphant. In fact, it’s so ugly that Andrew’s own father can’t even watch. Fletcher is ecstatic with purpose, while Andrew bangs away at the drums with a fatigue and anguish that is nothing less than a dying human on autopilot. The events don’t feel glorious, but uncomfortable. 

All-in-all, “Whiplash” is a great movie. It features a great Miles Teller, and J.K. Simmons at his absolute best. It’s an exploration of music, an exploration of perfection, and a cautionary tale for mental health and how far some will push themselves to say they were ‘one of the greats.’ Is someone great if that greatness then causes them to kill themselves for the role? “Whiplash” asks those questions silently, but never out loud. To ask them out loud is weakness. But as the film ends, you realize you’ve stumbled upon something profound. Simmons, Teller, and Chazelle ask you to get comfortable with being uncomfortable and ask hard questions when the credits roll. The best movies make you think after they end; “Whiplash” is a stellar case in point. 

“Whiplash” is available to watch or rent through most streaming platforms.