"Whiplash" dances enigmatically across the motives of a cruel mentor. It is the story of an ambitious young music student, Andrew (Miles Teller), who falls right into the hands of the most brutal conductor in New York City - probably also the world. That man is Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), a name that rings with fear and respect across the halls of the fictional Shaffer Conservatory. Andrew sees Fletcher as his ticket to stardom, the one figure he needs to convince of his greatness who can then convince the world. He wants so badly to be noticed, even if in the worst ways, that he seems wicked taskmaster as the best guide to greatness. However, Fletcher's own reasons for thrashing Andrew's body and soul may not be quite so benevolent. In a film about really only two characters and a drumset, "Whiplash" creates a stirring and thrilling collision of two characters in a very warped non-sexual courtship.
If you thought Amazing Amy from "Gone Girl" was the most manipulative character of 2014, then obviously you have not yet seen "Whiplash". J.K. Simmons steps into this movie completely bald, lanky but with clear muscle tone. He can bark and scream and belittle like the best of R.L. Ermey's "Full Metal Jacket" monologues. If you're gay, he'll torture you for sleeping with men. If you're Irish, he'll torture you for having red hair. Hilarious stuff to watch, probably not very nice to be the victim of. His tight elderly skin stretches and warps as Fletcher warps between human and demon, breaking his students into dust. However, it is not the screaming you need to watch out for. It's the moment he's not screaming, the moment he tries to be your pal. That's when he finds the weapons to truly smash you into nothing. Give me him a little trust, just a hint of your psychology, and he'll betray you to stab right where it hurts most. It is a tremendous character at the heart of a great movie, well deserving of it's Best Picture nomination today*.




