Be great or disappear

Indie sensation ‘Whiplash’ pounds out a provocative rhythm

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It’s one thing to want to be something — a novelist, a cartoonist, a theoretical physicist — but it’s another to want to be Something — a Vonnegut, a Watterson, a Stephen Hawking. In the Sundance hit “Whiplash,” we see the brutal side of the pursuit of excellence, particularly in those who are self-imposed with nurturing it.

But as writer/director Damien Chazelle lays it down, the opposite of excellence is not awfulness, but complacency. That’s why so much art is forgettable — you can smell the fear of failure, and like so much in life, good enough becomes good enough. In “Whiplash,” both the main character and the film itself are driven by an inimitable, fevered intensity. They both want to be great so bad they bleed.

When Andrew (Miles Teller), a 19-yearold aspiring jazz drummer catches the ear of Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), the preeminent instructor at the best jazz university in the country, he becomes the youngest member of the school’s award-winning studio band. But that appointment comes with a price — Fletcher is a choleric bully who is more drill sergeant than bandleader. He screams in Andrew’s ear in front of the class, slaps Andrew in the face when he misses the tempo and then mocks him when tears well up.

“Whiplash” puts a sadistic twist on the inspirational teacher trope — imagine if Jaime Escalante threw chairs at his students’ heads to get them fired up about math. But with Fletcher, first-time filmmaker Chazelle does more than create a fine addition to filmdom’s great psychopaths — he uses that character to challenge us to get off our collective asses and get out there and do something with our lives.

“There are no two words in the English language more harmful than ‘good job,’” Fletcher says to Andrew. He tells Andrew about how, in 1937, one of Count Basie’s drummers threw a cymbal at Charlie Parker on stage after the 16-year-old saxist lost the rhythm. Parker was laughed off stage, but vowed to return. A year later he came back, blew the crowd away and “the Bird” was born. No trauma, no legend. The message is clear: Be great or disappear.

Simmons tears into the role with a gleeful menace that is every bit as intriguing as it is unsettling. His skin-tight black T-shirt and shiny bald head will become the new goatee and porkpie hat that symbolize the banality of evil. A longtime utility player who has mostly stuck to genial supporting roles in the last decade, Simmons pulls a 180 here. It’s almost worse when he’s smiling and taking Andrew conspiratorially under his arm. The snake is coiled, we’re just waiting for that bite … .

Teller, however, is a blank slate in comparison. His character wants to be a great drummer — the great drummer — but Teller just doesn’t look the part. He comes across as an entitled suburban kid. However, in one of the film’s most chilling scenes, he channels the full extent of his character’s psychological torture in a devastating encounter with one of his friends.

You don’t have to understand jazz, or even like it, to buy into the film’s world. The irony, of course, is that jazz is founded on the principle of free-form expression. It’s all groovy, man, as long as you’re in step with your band mates. Here, jazz is a precise, exacting science, of which any deviation is beyond criminal: It’s a capital offense.

“Whiplash” isn’t an easy film to watch, but it’s not supposed to be. Nothing great is easy. But this is the kind of film that has the potential to connect with spirited idealists who want to set the world on fire. And that, indeed, is Something.

“Whiplash” plays exclusively at Celebration! Cinema Lansing & IMAX, 200 E. Edgewood Blvd., Lansing. (517) 393- 7469, celebrationcinema.com.

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