When people ask me what my favourite movie is, I usually go for Whiplash (2014). It’s an oddball choice for sure — and it’s definitely not one because it’s a feel-good movie. Indeed, I think it gets to the heart of what a favourite film is: this is undoubtedly the film that I think is the best, but it’s not the one I would turn to to cheer me up after a rough day. For me, Whiplash is film perfection; distilled into a runtime of 1 hour 47 minutes yet it feels shorter; every scene is needed, nothing is superfluous to the story of the film. It’s a masterclass in character acting and in scriptwriting, and the viewing experience is a bit like watching a train derail: horrifying yet we cannot break our eyes away from the screen. It’s also deeply musical, though its imagery transcends the discipline it focuses on.

Whiplash is about jazz drumming. It stars Miles Teller as Andrew Neiman, a young college student who wants to become one of the great jazz drummers. He attends a prestigious conservatory in New York, where he is recruited by Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), the director of the top jazz band (called studio band). At this point, the film switches from a sports-like film to a horror; as it is revealed that Fletcher is an abusive man who will stop at nothing to get the best from his students. His tactics range from verbal abuse to physical; from homophobic slurs to hurling chairs at his players’ heads. From here it becomes a survival film: will Neiman achieve his goal of becoming the best despite this deeply inhospitable environment?

For me, the film is so interesting because of the way that Neiman and Fletcher interact. Not many films have the protagonist and antagonist after the exact same thing. Indeed, what makes Whiplash such a complex film is that if the protagonist wins, the antagonist also wins. And yet, for the protagonist to win, he needs to thrive in the uncomfortable environment. It’s thrilling viewing because of this interplay. I have always found (and on discussion with my friends whom I force to watch it) that you don’t want Neiman to succeed by the end. You want him to just have a girlfriend and settle for an easier life and not one that means succeeding in the abuse.

It’s not a perfect movie by any means: although it is so well-crafted as to be almost spartan; because of this it also lacks alternate perspectives. Fletcher’s methods are never really countered by the film, which suggests that the abuse will generate amazing musicians, and instead asks us about the costs of that generation. I wonder if maybe the film should actually ask if abuse is the only method to generate amazing musicians. As an audience we suspend our disbelief to allow the film to take us on this extreme hypothetical. It is like the anti-Ted Lasso in that way, where instead of seeing the effects of profound support; we see the effects of profound abuse. Ted Lasso does, to its credit, deal with this issue with a little more nuance: we somewhat see the effect of abuse in the football industry there and come away knowing that Lasso’s way is superior; of course, Lasso is a three season TV show and not a movie.

Fundamentally, what I like most about Whiplash is this question, however. It has had a large impact on my life. Even taking away the abuse, is being one of the greats worth all the sacrifices one has to make to get to that level of achievement? Is it worth not having a partner, hobbies, friends, anything that might distract you from the top? Some will say it’s possible to do both; it also seems that in the majority of cases that is not true. Personally, I think there’s in-between. I personally want a full life; one that is not focused entirely on being the best at something in single focus. Simultaneously, that full life should derive from having purpose, drive, and direction, and our partners, friends, and hobbies are important to us in achieving the fullest and most distilled version of that life.