Every self aware human being questions their existence at some point, searching for meaning or purpose. It is a gaping wound in our individual being & a broad aching hole in our collective conscious, an ever pressing mortality reminding us of the futility of life. Some choose to fill it with conformity in the hope that assimilation will create a place to exist, some cram in experiences, most fill it with the mundane distractions of tv & celebrity & taking up valuable space with shiney shit they don’t really want or need, others choose to fill it with more noble pursuits such as family, friends & love & the chosen few spend their time waffling grandiloquently to no one about their opinion on nothing while pretending like being self aware somehow negates being conceited. But anyways, in any true artist, that hole begs deafeningly to be puttied shut with reason & belonging. An unquenchable drive to pursue your art to the end of an ultimately endless journey. A lifelong quest to master & perfect an ever changing skill set, the more you learn, the more you realise the limitless nature of your endeavour. It is both a means to anchor & find, while simultaneously losing & escaping yourself.
Psychologist Ernest Becker in his Denial Of Death, posits that a basic duality in human life exists between the physical world of material things & objects you can touch and our symbolic world of human meaning & etherial concepts such as purpose & belonging. So, we subconsciously try to supersede our own fleeting mortality through the eternity & divinity of heroism. Artistic endeavour stems from the desire to be heroic by ones own definition, to contribute to & be part of a tradition which is infinite by creating a legacy that lives beyond our own lifetime. Which is the same ego shit that when marginalised & un channelled, drives people to go on public killing spree’s with written manifesto’s, or sell their soul for fame, or be professional harbinger of hate, Katie Hopkins. It is this unanswerable question, this need for legacy that creates obsession, which is ultimately what Whiplash is about; The intense nature of mastering greatness. Miles Teller plays Andrew, a young drummer desperate to achieve critical acclaim & in turn for the approval & respect of Fletcher [Badman from longtime, in Oz.. J.K Simmons] a brilliant but abusive & volatile jazz musician/conductor. Their intense & explosive relationship fuelled by their need for perfection, which is ultimately their individual egos’ need to solidify a place in a history that will eventually forget us all. Fucked up, depressing & angry but contrastingly beautiful & poetic. Plus the sound track is incredible. Don’t be dumb, put down the TV remote, stop staring brain dead at your smart phone & go eat some food with whoever you love & watch it at the flicks.. & fuck the sugar caked snacks they sell & take a vape & smoke buddy junior, personal carbon filter.