'Whiplash' and Legacy's Intoxicating Allure

This example of doubles and masks will examine the 2014 film ‘Whiplash’, and the doubling of the two main characters for each other and the universal themes of greatness, social expectations and the necessary means to achieve them.

I can talk about 'Whiplash' all day

J. K. Simmons plays Fletcher, the teacher and primary antagonist of the piece. In his search for “the perfect musician", Fletcher paints himself as a drill sergeant-type teacher, constantly demoralizing and physically abusing his school band and specifically our protagonist Andrew, played by Miles Teller. But in one particular scene, where Andrew is watching Fletcher greet a friend’s daughter in private, Fletcher’s voice lowers, his posture is slumped, and he encourages the little girl to practice piano and, eventually, to join his band; Fletcher, in this scene and during the film's third act, exuded the energy of that uncle you loved when you were a kid, a stark contrast to his dictator-esque personality with his students. This begs many questions: Why does Fletcher encourage the little girl to a possibly traumatic future? How is Fletcher depicted in public spaces?

But the most pressing concern of mine came as a horrific realization: in Andrew’s eyes, is Fletcher's projection of extreme social expectations and measures ultimately justified for a person simply trying to find a place in the world?

Firstly, let's look at “Teacher Fletcher". In his entirely black attire, with his bald head, baggy eyes and muscular build, Fletcher is an authoritarian monster, terrifying in his words and his ambitions. He projects brutal ideals of competition and sacrifice onto his students, who are subject to a military-like regime: high on precision, discipline and hierarchy, but at the cost of gratification, health and personal relationships, with Andrew being his main object of attention, as the character gradually loses his sanity trying to satisfy Fletcher's expectations. Andrew falls into the trap laid by Fletcher, where he, blinded by the promise of a life “like the greats" as Fletcher described, depicts the mentor’s homophobic slurs, personal offense and violence towards him as his failure to deliver artistically, becoming even more drawn to Fletcher in a subtle case study of Stockholm syndrome. Fletcher deems it “an absolute necessity" to push his students, and in turn their mental capacity, to their limits in search for greatness, which had caused one of his students to commit suicide; Andrew, so embroiled in Fletcher's ideology, even tells his father that "death and recognition" are better than "sobriety and anonymity" during a tense dinner scene. Artistic intentions might be his justification, but we can see there is a perverse sense of enjoyment involved for Fletcher in the proceedings, evident in his manipulation of Andrew: he asks Andrew to play a beat that he would later ask students to audition for, tricking our protagonist into thinking he is special, only to tear him down physically and mentally throughout the film. His hypocrisy in wanting one to “be the best” dissipates in the climax as he ambushes Andrew in front of a packed audience, changing the musical set unbeknownst to Andrew’s knowledge, publicly humiliating the protagonist: Fletcher, after being ousted by his students, exacts his revenge by crushing Andrew's hopes and dreams, sacrificing art (his orchestra conducting) despite it being his life’s goal.

As the teacher, Fletcher is the visualization of Andrew's fear, doubling as both the bearer of impossible standards and expectations from society and the horrific outcomes of failure for Andrew.

J.K. Simmons won the Academy Award for his role as the demeaning mentor

But then we have the other side of Fletcher. In a buttoned down, oversized shirt, still with his bald head, baggy eyes and muscular build, Fletcher becomes a tired wanderer, lost in his god-given task of molding “the next Charlie Parker" (one of the greatest drummers of Fletcher's generation). Visually, there is a yellow hue following Fletcher's presence, painting him as a godly figure, the unwavering bearer of art in its truest form, art that the majority can neither reach nor understand. He does indeed want his students to be greater than their own expectations, but his obsession and repeated failures in realizing his goal ultimately lead him down a path of monstrosity, culminating in Andrew, his sole hope of artistic perfection, becoming the vessel for his anger. Fletcher's purpose, and indeed his relationship with Andrew, is akin to Frankenstein and his creation. Frankenstein's monster, in the mad scientist's eyes, is the expression of science, but also the projection of all his wrath and self-worth, being denied social acceptance, emotional growth or familial happiness, similar to how Andrew is forced to distance himself from his family and girlfriend after being demoralized in class. After he is fired, Fletcher removes his costume, and we see him in an unfamiliar setting: a jazz bar. He plays the piano, and he indulges himself in the sphere of perfection he had created and had hoped one of his students would understand. The little girl in the aforementioned scene comes into mind, as she becomes his shadow: both enjoy the piano rather nonchalantly, free of society's pressure for success or the constraints of the classroom setting. As he converses with Andrew in the scene afterwards, he reveals in a saddened tone that two other drummers who auditioned with Andrew had given up drumming; here, he is calm and respectful, exasperated in his self-imposed exile after he had failed in his artistic destiny of harassing or, in his view, inspiring one into becoming greater. This is why the scene with the friend's daughter is deeper than its surface value: Fletcher was genuinely asking the girl to join his band, as he believes everyone has the talent, but not the passion nor the guidance, to become the Charlie Bird of their generation, and that is where Fletcher comes in: to provide that necessary push.

Here, ironically, he doubles as Andrew's talent and ambition, the guide of his path to greatness, and in turn, Andrew, at that moment, is also Fletcher's and society's manifestation of their worst fear: wasted talent.

Whether Fletcher's, and indeed society’s, extreme measures are justified, is up for interpretation. In the final scene, after the public humiliation, Andrew walks back on stage to Fletcher's surprise, and proceeds to drum out a heart-shattering, awe-inspiring solo; Fletcher can do nothing but be in awe upon his realization of greatness, even fixing Andrew’s drum kit at one point, and ultimately cueing the orchestra to join in Andrew's lead. Fletcher's ideology of pain, demoralization and god-given purposes has encompassed Andrew, to the point where the world around him is nothing but minutiae, and where the public would elevate both of their statuses to new heights, at the cost of everything Andrew has ever loved, as expressed through his father's horrified eyes during his drum solo, someone who is witnessing the end of his son, and the birth of another ruthless Fletcher. In the film’s aftermath, we as the audience know that this cycle will be repeated in fiction and reality. Narcissistic social expectations of the one-in-a-million will always lead to misery, mental deterioration and collapse for the other nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand: It's a cycle that the little, innocent girl talking to Fletcher has already been pulled into.

By Chi Tran