I’ve seen Whiplash more than a dozen times. Each viewing feels like a necessary bruising. It’s a film that lives in the extremes, a dark and airless practice room where the only oxygen is ambition and the tutelage courtesy of J.K. Simmons’ Fletcher.
Let’s say he’s a monster—a tyrant who hurls chairs and insults in equal measure. And sure, Teller’s Andrew bleeds for his art in his effort to exceed Fletcher’s brutal expectations. We see the welts on his hands, the desperation in his eyes. Is it too much? That’s the point.
This isn’t a film about the gentle hand of mentorship. It’s about the fire in the belly, the primal scream of wanting to be great. It forces us to ask: what are we willing to endure to reach the pinnacle of our potential?
Now, I’ve never had a chair thrown at me (though a certain French teacher and his vigorous desk-shaking come to mind – a man who, ironically, became a beloved mentor). But Whiplash resonates because it speaks to that deep, human desire for approval, for recognition, for mastery.
And the music. Yikes, the music. That final performance is more than just a crescendo; it’s a rebellion, a reckoning, a triumphant middle finger to the limitations placed upon us. It’s exhilarating, terrifying, satisfying … all the “ings,” as someone probably says.
My wife, bless her soul, jokes that Whiplash turned her into a bad parent, afraid to say “good job” lest she unleash some inner Fletcher on our children. But that’s the brilliance of the film—it sparks these conversations, these uncomfortable reflections on ambition, mentorship, and the price of excellence.
Whiplash is not a comfortable film. It’s a film that stays with you, that leaves you breathless, and questioning, and striving.
I notched this again because we had the chance to talk about it with the delightful Emmy Award-winning hair and makeup designer Frances Hounsom on this week’s episode of Movies We Like. You should check it out and subscribe. It’s an illuminating conversation on a show I just adore. Hope you enjoy!