At every point in my life, as a musician, I had nurturing, understanding and forgiving instructors and collaborators. When I had an idea, someone listened. When I made a mistake, it wasn’t a problem. When I was having trouble picking something up, I never had to figure it out on my own. I always played in a caring environment. I was lucky.
…or was I?
When we meet Andrew Neiman (Miles Teller), he is a totally normal (too normal) young adult entering his first year at the prestigious Schaffer Conservatory. Awkward, and sluggish in both thought and action, he drums in a practice room most evenings hoping to catch the attention of Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), an important studio ensemble leader. Fletcher’s attention is caught, and although Andrew does seem to have a chance, it is swiftly obvious the instructor is not entirely impressed…or particularly friendly. Despite this disappointing first encounter, they meet again and Andrew is plucked for the competition band.
His excitement over achieving this exclusive level is suddenly replaced with anxiety and obsession when Fletcher’s personality proves to be far more than unfriendly. He is a monster. He pushes all his players to the edge of their musicianship and sanity at all times. Rehearsals are more like basic training in some military branch than an artistic practice. When Andrews shows he is having difficulty with reaching a specific tempo, Fletcher directs his unique brand of sledgehammer motivation at him, and the abuse becomes physical. Devastated with embarrassment, Fletcher’s sociopathic practice seems to work perfectly on his new student, as Andrew only becomes more driven to meet the high standards…at first.
If you have seen any of the print or television ads, you are perfectly aware that critics have been using words like “electrifying,” “astounding,” and “exhilarating” to describe this movie. With this film, these clichéd buzzwords are definitely warranted. There is a good reason this small film squeaked its way into a category featuring the epic likes of Birdman, Selma, and Boyhood. This is one of the most exciting movies I have ever seen.
To the tune of a truly brilliant score, mixing new big band sounds with spectacular rearrangements of well-known classics, Jazz hasn’t been this cool (or should I say “this swing”?) since the early 60s. The music is tremendous, and watching Miles Teller pretend to play it (and convince us he is playing it) can only be described by one of those previously mentioned buzzwords. Everything Teller offers is wonderful. He deserves at least as much praise as J.K. Simmons has already received. The budding young star successfully takes his character down a difficult road on the way to becoming a man. It is dark and emotional, but relatable. I never played until my hands bled, but I have experienced the kind of violent frustration that comes with regularly failing at learning something difficult. You don’t have to be a musician, or any kind of artist to put yourself in this guy’s shoes. Everyone wants something, and Teller’s performance is somehow just complex enough while still being the perfect every-kid.
Simmons’ performance has been justifiably lauded. He is terrifying, bombastic, and desirably cool all at once. Fletcher’s crusade, though admirable, is not exactly noble. That’s the ultimate question, of course. Do the ends (the potential ends) justify the mean, mean, means. He isn’t all King Leonidas through the whole film, either. He is smoothly manipulative. He is a deceiver. Practically everything he tells Andrew is a lie, and by the end of the film, it is hard to tell just what all was done or said as part of a planned effort to bring something great out of Andrew.
There is some fine work going on behind the camera, as well. The movie looks great (although it has some digital problems that make me cringe), and the collaboration between sight and sound is uproarious. There is a final musical performance, and the shooting and editing couldn’t be more on point. Imagine a music video, whose subject is the music, itself. The cuts become another rhythmic element, another instrument in this explosively joyful noise. It’s an exquisitely well-made film and I truly hope it can bring some interest back to the world of jazz. If this movie can’t do it, I’m not sure what can.
