What does it take to be great? A whiplash across your back? Or J.K. Simmons screaming in your face and questioning the space between your legs?
Andrew Neiman, played by Miles Teller, is a malleable kid with an otherwise steely resolve. He goes to Schaffer Conservatory in New York City to master the art of jazz drumming. Andrew wants to be the next Buddy Rich.
Now, Andrew is easy to build up. Give him a compliment and he’ll spend the whole day smiling sheepishly and thinking he’s something special.
On the flipside, he’s easier to break.
Throw a chair over his head and tell him he’s a garbage drummer, he’ll start weeping like a scolded child. Force him to tell his bandmates that he’s upset, and he’ll do just that. Andrew’s teacher, Fletcher, was anything but a softie.
Nevertheless, he persisted.
The Price of Potential
Andrew went home and practiced his craft. He listened to Buddy Rich albums for hours on end, to get the tempo down pat. His fingers blistered and bled as he worked to hone his craft. His eyes drooped and sagged from sleepless nights. The bangs in front of his forehead drenched in sweat from the heat of his ambition.
Miles Teller was the face of determination in Whiplash, one of the greatest films of 2014 (dare I say, of all time). Teller was a paragon of never surrendering to ephemeral obstacles. Sure, Simmons deserved the awards he got but Teller committed himself far more to this project than his co-star.
Fletcher and Neiman made one of the most-compelling cinematic duos in recent memory. Primarily because of the symbolic weight of their relationship.
If a whip was a person, it was Terence Fletcher.
If a lash was person, it was poor, little Andy.
There are two sides to Greatness: The student and the teacher.
Student and Teacher
Talent on its own is a mound of lifeless soil.
The teacher finds and fertilizes the soil. He ensures the realization of your potential. Such is the purpose of his entire profession.
But what happens when your teacher becomes a genuine enemy? When his sole ambition is not to build you up, but to tear you down?
What happens when it’s not a dearth of passion that ends a dream, but an overabundance of it?
The film’s first half tricks the viewer into expecting a cliche inspirational story about acheiving your dreams.
But it’s not that simple. Life is never that simple.
Conventional wisdom stipulates that an ever-abundant supply of passion will ascend you to the heavens and beyond.
Andrew went through verbal abuse, put-downs, humiliation, and bleeding hands to become the world’s greatest drummer. You have to get through Hell before reaching Heaven.
If that wasn’t enough, Andrew went through a car wreck just to pick up a pair of misplaced drumsticks (musical drumsticks, not the KFC crap). He put his well-being on the line just to play at a concert. Price for greatness, remember?
Donning a blood-soaked suit and forehead, Andrew made it to the concert stage. Nothing was going to stop this kid. Nada.
Except his own passion and ambition.
After one put-down too many and losing his spot on the band, Andrew charged at Fletcher, was dragged out cursing his name and subsequently kicked out of Schaffer.
There’s a line to everything.
Line to Passion, Line to Abuse
Andrew crossed his line, just like Fletcher crossed his.
An ethics complaint filed by a former student’s parents, and corroborated by Andrew, brought Fletcher’s teaching career to a predictable end.
“There are no two words more dangerous than ‘good job’,” Fletcher later explained to Andrew. After a couple of drinks at the bar, he offered Andrew a spot on his band. They have a gig the coming weekend to play the old classics he learned at the conservatory.
But Andrew had already given up on his dream, due to the damage he inflicted upon himself. He even sacrificed his relationship just to get to the top.
Since he was left with nothing but a void, Andrew had no other recourse but to return to the path he was on before. He already made peace with Fletcher, didn’t he? What harm could it do? He had genuine support this time around!
Or so he thought.
A Teacher and An Enemy
When Fletcher brought Andrew on stage, he pulled a suprising act of vengeance.
“I know it was you,” he uttered to Andrew. “I know you testified against me.”
Fletcher opened up the recital with an arrangement that Andrew didn’t rehearse for nor expected.
He was about to crash and burn in front of an audience of influential industry insiders. He was about to flop like a fish out of water.
Fletcher was no longer his teacher.
Fletcher was now his sworn enemy. A genuine enemy out to destroy his target at all costs.
Andrew could not simply improv his way through a planned arrangement. The music insiders had their sights locked on the failure that was Andrew Neiman, prepared to blacklist his ass for eternity.
Neiman was ready to submit to his enemy. Accept the fact that he was destroyed.
Or so Fletcher thought.
Fletcher didn’t anticipate that the only thing more valuable than a teacher…
Is an enemy.
The Value of an Enemy
An enemy is the ultimate obstacle to your dreams and aspirations.
You need an obstacle to gauge your own strength, commitment, and passion.
If said strength is nonexistent, you will crumble like dust.
Rather than sulk, Andrew got back on the kit and wrested control of the arrangement from his former teacher. He was going to play, he was going to fight.
We get stronger by fighting, not by sitting down and listening to someone else’s lecture.
And best of all, nobody said your enemy will be your enemy forever.
Fight back, show him what you’re made of and your enemy will buckle.
Your enemy will smile. Your enemy will become your friend.
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