It’s easy to overlook abuse when it leads to excellence, because with the lash of a whip, perfection can be within reach. The complex relationship between obsession, abuse, and idolization is explored in the hair-raising film Whiplash (2014) directed by Damien Chazelle. Chazelle has explored jazz music in his other works, ‘Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench’ (2009) and the more recent ‘La La Land’ (2016), but unlike the two romantic musicals, Whiplash sheds light on the more sinister side of jazz. The film, which entwines the highs and lows of passion, is a worthwhile watch for anyone, no matter who they are.

Reflective of Chazelle’s own experience in a competitive jazz band, Whiplash follows the life of young drummer Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller) and his strenuous journey to become “one of the greats” of the jazz world and exist among the ranks of musicians such as Buddy Rich, who Neiman idolizes. Under the harsh guidance of his instructor, Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), who is treated with godlike respect within the fictional Shaffer Conservatory, Neiman is pushed—and pushes himself—past his limits, both physically and emotionally, to achieve his (and eventually Fletcher’s) ultimate goal.

Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons both poured tremendous amounts of effort and care into their characters in the film, which helped bring them to life. Teller’s brilliant portrayal of Neiman’s arrogance and frustration carries the film, giving the character a pitiful, yet pretentious attitude that harnesses a relatability and sympathy from the audience for the harsh reality he faces. Through his acting, he successfully communicates Neiman’s desperation to be validated by the figure he simultaneously resents and worships the most: Fletcher. J.K. Simmons demonstrates his versatility as an actor as he melts into Fletcher’s nightmarish, monster-like stance; his performance is so convincing that to this day, he carries the legacy of the villainous role with him. The complexity of Fletcher’s character is driven by his mercurial temperament, an unpredictability that Simmons seems to dissolve into, as if the role was made for him from the start. The two leads and their tantalizing chemistry make the characters feel real—they prove themselves to be more than capable of understanding and capturing the dysfunctional dynamic between Neiman and Fletcher. The actors’ representation of this unyielding back-and-forth struggle (like a metronome) was instrumental to the success of the film, as the cadence of the plot hinges on their interactions with one another, most of which are drenched in reciprocal pettiness. 

Whiplash is a music-centered movie unlike any other, in the sense that sound, visuals, and story all harmonize in a way that marries the psychological thriller and sports genres. The movie was plotted and shot as a thriller and inspired by 70s paranoid-style films, equipped with fraught situations and the occasional jumpscare that invites the audience to close their eyes and hold their breath. What really pulls the anxiety out of the plot is the film’s intense lighting, dynamic camera angles, and vivid washes of color, much of which can be attributed to director of photography Sharone Meir alongside Chazelle. As well as wallpaper-worthy wide shots littered throughout the film, much of the cinematography gets up close and personal with characters and instruments alike, emphasizing the blood, sweat, and tears shed in the pursuit of improvement and the abuse Neiman endured to get there, emulating the structure of a sports film. 

While actors and cinematography drive an intricate story, the director ultimately determines the quality of a film, and that statement is justified when we look at Whiplash. Chazelle, in an interview with Film4, shines a spotlight on the importance of physical violence in the film; and indeed, these physical cues are essential to making the audience understand Neiman’s obsession with furthering his skill, and how much of himself he’s willing to sacrifice for that desire. Chazelle’s decision to focus the camera primarily on Teller (as Neiman) pulls the audience closer to the journey of his gradual submission into the cage Fletcher creates for him. As Teller states in his own Film4 interview, Chazelle is assiduous when it comes to pre-production planning, in order for his vision and execution to be carried out efficiently, decisively, and within the narrow time frame they had-just nineteen days—to film the movie. With a passionate director who takes the utmost care and consideration for his films, down to the colors of clothing worn by each character, Whiplash was certainly destined to make its waves. 

And to highlight another aspect of the film, I cannot stress enough the importance of sound in this movie. From the iconic soundtrack—which includes Whiplash by Hank Levy, which the film is named after— to the moments of absolute silence that seem to suck the air out of the room, Whiplash’s genius sound design and composition are the columns of the film. The presence—and lack thereof—of music orchestrates the mood of any given scene, and the outstanding choices of song, as well as where they are used, further coils the audience within the atmosphere of the film. As the film’s tension crescendos and plummets, the music seems to follow suit, strengthening each wax and wane between Fletcher and Neiman. Justin Hurwitz, who would go on to work with Chazelle in two of his future works, seems to manipulate the score to perfection.

The meticulous work that went into this film’s creation is reflective of the movie’s core theme of striving for perfection, as the cast’s and the crew’s passion and dedication seem to seep out of each frame. Through these fine details—that result in an invisible manipulation of our subconscious—the true extent of Fletcher’s abuse makes itself clear to us, as well as the pedestal he is perched upon in Neiman’s deteriorating psyche. It takes excellence to create a film about excellence.

There are many conclusions people draw from this movie—many interpretations, many theories, many rumors—but the greatest message that the Whiplash experience drills into us is the emotional toll of pursuing the peak of the mountain. We, as the audience, are roped into this story, and its intensity—buttressed by its iconic soundtrack as well as its unique visual and auditory cues—strikes a chord within our hearts. This movie doesn’t matter simply because of its plot, or even its final message—it matters because of the emotional journey it takes us through, a soul-awakening experience that is irreplaceable and unreplicable.