The snapping pop of a snare drum begins to play, the tempo gradually intensifying. “Whiplash” appears in white lettering against a black background.
As the drum roll reaches its climax, the camera cuts from black to a shot from the back of an ill-lit hallway.
At the end of the empty hallway, Andrew (Miles Teller) sits illuminated at a drum set. The camera slowly creeps forward, Andrew’s arms flying from drum to drum, cymbal to cymbal.
A mysterious man confidently strolls in and orders Andrew to play double time swing. “Faster,” he commands.
Within seconds, the man storms out, slamming the door.
“Whiplash’s” first minute is what an opening scene should be. It sets the overall tone, themes and conflicts of the film. Within seconds, the audience is hooked — at rapt attention.
It doesn’t let your mind wander or drift off to all of the homework you have or all of the bills you have to pay.
You’re gone, immersed in Director Damien Chazelle’s fictional world.
And luckily, the rest of “Whiplash” is just as good as the first minute.
“Whiplash,” Chazelle explains, is almost like a war movie. The battlefield? Music. The combatants?
Well, there’s Andrew, a wannabe Buddy Rich. And there’s Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), an extremely abusive, successful music instructor at the best music school in the country.
Essentially, the entire film is Fletcher trying to break Andrew.
This struggle begins when Andrew, even after his initial rejection in the first scene, is invited to play drums in Fletcher’s coveted jazz band.
What follows is shocking.
Rehearsal in Fletcher’s class is torture.
He shouts crude, degrading, sexual insults at his students, and he even hits them.
In one of the most telling scenes, Fletcher throws a chair at Andrew for not playing in time, and then he proceeds to slap him repeatedly to “teach him” how to properly count.
The brilliance in Chazelle’s movie comes from the extreme passion he imbues in his characters.
Andrew practices and practices until his hand bleeds from exertion. But he doesn’t stop. He slaps on bandage after bandage, sweating bullets, as he practices for hours.
Andrew even breaks up with his girlfriend because he says she’ll get in the way of his greatness.
Fletcher yells and yells, degrading his students to no end, demanding greatness.
Both of these characters are immensely interesting to watch, as they have so much drive. And when the two clash, lots of sparks fly.
Of course, Chazelle’s wonderful characters wouldn’t be amazing without good actors.
Teller nails his role, especially because he actually plays the drums throughout the entire movie, unlike other musical films.
This adds another element of realism to the film, and it makes it more enjoyable to watch, as the audience gets to see Teller’s drumming skills.
And Simmons’ unflinching portrayal is equally as good.
When the shot moves to a close up of Simmons’ face, you can almost feel his breath and spittle, as he shouts commands inches away from players’ faces.
Even when Simmons doesn’t shout, the cadence of his voice is that of a drill sergeant, terrifyingly firm.
It’s a visceral performance.
While there probably aren’t many music teachers like Fletcher, and while there are few students as driven as Andrew, I left the movie feeling emotional towards both characters as if they were real.
And luckily, “Whiplash” maintains its momentum to the very end with a satisfying finale.
It was the most captivating, if not the best, film of 2014.
