Friday, January 23, 2015

Whiplash

Worst case scenario.

From my point of view anyways.

The drill sergeant teacher, militaristic jazz, believing that greatness can be cultivated using cruel ruthless humiliating tactics which psychologically destroy while potentially diversifying.

If you can take it.

If you don't break down as he viciously insults you and contentedly rips you to shreds.

This guy's brutal, a true Full Metal Jacket.

Thoroughly versed in the dark side, he finds an historical example where callous pedagogical shocks produce skills beyond exception, and then tries to recreate the soul crushing circumstances which harshly brought about the virtuosities, not taking into account the uniqueness of the situation, the educational, demographic, individual, historical, and social characteristics at play, difference exploited as a means to oppress rather than a factor to be conceptualized, music isn't war, you're trying to elevate not conquer, you have to push to succeed but you can push without pulverizing, excel without collapsing, although there are people who need the drill sergeant, I simply never understood why.

Was lucky in school. Never ran into teachers like this. I can't function in such environments, just shut down and suffer, can barely think.

Long time since I've been in one.

Whiplash is about a young drummer attending Shaffer Conservatory who is given the opportunity to play in their premier ensemble, and chooses to find a way to become part of its core.

The teacher uses despicable methods which lead to improvements but his heavy hand is too much for the 19 year-old to take.

Bad decisions.

Pushed too hard.

He does excel though and is given the chance to say fuck rather than thank you eventually.

A well-casted examination of emotionally disturbing teaching methods and their outcomes, Whiplash's unquestionable villain sacrifices balance for beatification.

Hoping to nurture sheer brilliance.

Clucking malevolently in the abyss.

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