Whiplash and the Surprising Importance of the White Male Privilege Film

(Contains spoilers for Whiplash)

Seeing a film for the first time in a long while is a strange thing. I first saw Whiplash way back in May 2014 at Cannes, and proceeded to spend the next eight months shouting things like "it's amazing!", "a game-changer" and "that ending!" at anyone (aka no-one) that would listen. After a second viewing I can confirm that yes, Whiplash is still great. Only this time I found myself liking the film for reasons that I hadn't noticed before, reasons that I'm not even sure director Damien Chazelle meant to be in the film. Whiplash is a great film because it, just like last year's Nightcrawler, The Wolf of Wall Street, The Social Network, or even films as far back as Altman's The Player, states a fact that is obvious to all of us but that we politely deign to mention for fear of upsetting their fragile egos - if you are a middle class white man, there is little to nothing that will stop you from getting what you want, no matter how many people you have to manipulate, trample, rape or kill to get it.

Why then, you may ask, does that make Whiplash such a good film? Aren't there enough films out at the moment about white men trying to reach for the American (or English, if you look to The Imitation Game and The Theory of Everything) Dream? Should I just go see Birdman or Foxcatcher instead? Well, let us propose something that has long been stated by theorists - cinema is a mirror that can be used to view ourselves and our society. Just like looking at yourself in a mirror after a long cry or a heavy night, it's not always particularly flattering. What do we see when we look through the cinematic mirror? We see a complete lack of diversity, and white men dominating the scene (both on and off-screen) just because they're white men. And another thing - cinema is supposed to be more than an just artform. Isn't cinema is a device to change the world? Has it done much changing so far? Hell no it, but maybe one day it will. So, the more films we make about the type of guy that saunters into a job interview, raises one eyebrow because he knows he's earnt it and ends up running the country within a year get made, the more we'll start to think that hey, isn't this a little problematic? Maybe we should question this, not just in our cinema, but in our society. It's worth pointing out as well that this is the inherent difference between films like Whiplash and Nightcrawler and films like Birdman and Foxcatcher - the directors of the former give us films filled (perhaps accidentally but nevertheless effectively) with the inevitability of white male privilege, whereas the latter try to convince us that oh, isn't life such a struggle for the white man? How will this famous actor manage to put on a play? Foxcatcher is a little different in terms of Mark Ruffalo and Channing Tatum's characters as there is actually a serious element of win or lose when it comes to wrestling, but the idea of the white American Dream is still there first and foremost.

A counter example of this is a film I haven't written about for a while, (so I'm going to be indulgent and do so here) Inside Llewyn Davis. Oscar Isaac's Llewyn is talented, and he sure as hell knows he's talented. Just like Miles Teller's Andrew, he treats people like shit because he thinks he's "better" than them due to his talent. So what's the difference between Teller's Andrew and Isaac's Llewyn? It's the colour of his skin of course. In reality, Isaac is Latino, and in the film he's Italian American. In one memorable scene, after F Murray Abraham's Bud Grossman rejects him as a solo singer, he offers him two pieces of advice for blending into the background and making it as part of a bland trio: "don't go in the sun, and shave your beard into a goatee". Due to his ethnicity, Llewyn's only option for stardom is to blend in and conform. Andrew on the other hand, can make it on his terms thanks, once again, to his established privilege.

The last scene of Whiplash is a solidification of all I have been talking about above. Throughout the film we are lead to believe that Andrew is a big bright shining star, and while it's exhilarating to watch all the highs of his talent, its also a little satisfying to watch the lows. So when you see him be beaten yet again by his ex-teacher and antagonist, you think it's finally all over. Forget talent, it's all about who has the bigger balls, and who can pull one over on who. That is, until he comes back out onto that stage, and begins his tour-de-force, an ace class in how to manipulate people in order to get what you want. By forcing his teacher to go along with him and help him give the best performance possible, Andrew starts once again to ascend to the top. J.K Simmons's character in Whiplash is certainly not perfect - far from it in fact, he's a homophobic (pretty much all kinds of phobic to be perfectly honest) bully. But it's a little disheartening to see what was once such a strong character be completely pulverised by his protégée and turning into a smiling, encouraging put upon helper. But hey, that's just the way it goes isn't it? Just like the phoenix, you can only keep the privileged white man down for so long - it's their destiny to ascend from the ashes to restore the status quo of society.

Grace Barber-Plentie

Cannes Review: Whiplash

Music, and the suffering that goes with it, certainly seems to be the grand cinematic theme of 2014. As already mentioned here, thus-far all of the films released this year dealing with the trials and tribulations of troubadours seem to offer a very negative view of the industry. However Damien Chazelle's Whiplash, a frenetically paced dark-ish indie that was rewarded with the audience and jury prizes at Sundance seems to suggest that if your goal is to be the very best then you can, to quote Reggae legend Jimmy Cliff, "get it if you really want".

The film focuses on Miles Teller's Andrew, a first year student at music school who is determined to be the next big thing, thanks to his drumming skills. He lives a secluded life - his only suggestions of a social life are his weekly cinema trips with his father and subsequent awkward attempts at forging a relationship with the cinema's concession stand girl. (This "romantic" subplot is one of the film's few weaknesses, breaking up rather than enhancing the narrative and giving Melissa Benoist a few lines to add to her resume.) All of his passion goes into his drumming, seemingly for naught until he is selected by Terence Fletcher (an equally humorous and terrifying J.K Simmons) to join his prestigious jazz band, a springboard to any job Andrew could ever want. However what Andrew does not reckon upon before joining the band is Fletcher's dedication to making his band sound the best that they possibly can be - and the lengths that he will go to to achieve this.

While it's worth noting that its dialogue is nicely written - the highlights being Fletcher's wince-inducing putdowns that he regularly bellows at the members of his band - Whiplash's narrative doesn't really bring anything new to the table. But what truly sets the film apart from others about music is its camerawork and editing. Scenes of rehearsals are breathless shot, racing down the ends of trombones, cutting to  sweat on the brows of focused musicians and bloody drumsticks clutched by desperate hands, barely giving the audience time to catch their breath. Whiplash seems to convey something different from the other musical melodramas of 2014 - it showcases not just the labour and suffering but also the success of being of a talented musician. The intimacy of the close-ups constantly used in the film is unexpected but works wonderfully as it seems to take the audience "inside" the music, rather than making them passively watch people watching a performance. The quality of the music in the film is exceptional - other than the scores of Woody Allen films or soundtracks to period films, it is a rariety to have a film that contains so much jazz music. It certainly makes a change from the moping indie musicians clinging to their guitars that we are used to seeing on the screen.

Another interesting feature of the film is the subjective viewpoint that it takes towards its main characters. We are never directly told that Fletcher is wrong for pushing Andrew to breaking point in order to get him to produce the best music possible - he can be viewed as an absolute psychopath toying with his students for his own amusement, or a genuine lover of music and a believer in perfection. Andrew too is a unique character as, similarly to Jesse Eisenberg's Mark Zuckerberg, he spends the majority of the film behaving like an absolute brat to everyone in his life, purely because he feels "better" than them due to his talent. (A scene where he insults the quarterback sons of a family friend for being popular but not "talented" is a perfect example of this) It is very, very easy to dislike him, yet when he plays, his superior stance can easily be justified.

With the great music-film slew of 2014 upon us, it would be very easy and unsurprising for Whiplash to go unnoticed compared to Oscar winning documentaries and films with Michael Fassbender in. But the raw passion of Whiplash and its protagonist easily sets it apart from the rest, making it a film that will completely absorb you, releasing you only when the final drums have sounded.

Grace Barber-Plentie

4/5