One of the most acclaimed movies of 2014 (so far) is Whiplash, a drama starring Miles Teller as a first-year student at a music conservatory, whose drumming attracts the notice of the conservatory’s most respected — and feared — instructor, played by J. K. Simmons.  Both actors are tremendous, with Simmons getting the majority of the acclaim for playing a thoroughly despicable character.  The movie itself is very well made, but it isn’t always easy to watch.

Andrew Neyman (Teller) is a loner who has turned to drumming as an escape from a world he clearly doesn’t like.  He’s very good, and wants to be great, which is why he submits (along with all the other conservatory students) to the harsh, even hateful, verbal abuse and behavioral tyranny employed by revered teacher Terence Fletcher (Simmons).  Neimann catches Fletcher’s eye and the two develop a highly charged, volatile relationship destined to explode at some point.

We’ve all heard about athletic coaches who cajole, goad and bully their charges in order to get the best out of them, and how, in recent years, such tactics have been refuted, challenged, and changed because of public outcry.  It’s a great idea to transfer the same situation to the more refined environment of a music conservatory where such blatant abuse seems even more outrageous.  Further, it is to the credit of writer-director Damien Chazelle that the two main characters not only fulfill the roles of inevitable adversaries but exceed situational limitations to become really powerful individuals who act in ways unexpected, yet utterly believable.

It’s not an easy drama to stomach; it’s sort of like Full Metal Jacket with really good jazz music.  The verbal abuse is truly nasty, and Fletcher clearly goes over the line with his treatment of the students.  Yet — and here’s why the film works so well — Fletcher’s abuse, which he explains near the end of the story, is actually effective on some students, and Andrew Neyman is one of them.  The finale, in which Fletcher seems to have the last bitter laugh, is so powerful because of Andrew’s reaction to it, which challenges, and yet acknowledges, everything Fletcher has taught him.  I loved the ending; at last Andrew has fully committed to his destiny.  The real dilemma in Chazelle’s drama is whether the demands of art outweigh the demands of ordinary life — relationships, acceptable behavior, traditional education, etc.  The movie has, through Andrew Neyman, clearly made its choice in favor of art.  ☆ ☆ ☆ 1/2.