Whiplash Analysis

Whiplash, released in 2014 and directed by Damien Chazelle, is an absolute masterclass. The movie is incredible in every facet. It is engaging, emotional, stellarly paced, has fantastic acting, and the dialogue is well written, with every word revealing something about the characters. The dynamic between the two main characters, Andrew Neiman (played by Miles Teller), who is a new drumming student at the prestigious Shaffer Conservatory school of music, and Terence Fletcher (played by J.K. Simmons), the conductor for the Shaffer Conservatory Studio Band, is beautifully complex and riveting throughout the movie. Though we do not get very much backstory for either character, I always rooted for Andrew throughout his journey to become “one of the Greats”, was at the edge of my seat with suspense when I could feel things about to go haywire, cringed when he trudged through both physical and emotional pain, and experienced catharsis when he accomplished what he set out to do.

In this article I do not want to focus on the movie qualities as described above; I find those are easily noticed by anyone on their first viewing. Instead, I want to focus on the themes of the movie because those are where we can find the answers to the “why”; they allow us to dissect the psychological drivers for Andrew’s goals, obsessions, actions, persistence, resilience, and engagement in an abusive environment. As such, I am assuming the reader has watched the movie before; many spoilers ahead! Note that I will include many hypothetical and alternate situations as a means of engaging in further thought-provoking thematic discussion beyond the purview of what happens on-screen. Ultimately, there are four major themes explored in the movie that are interconnected and extend far beyond the scope of a student trying to become a great drummer; this complexity makes the story worth thinking about well after the curtains have closed. There are also several perspectives that change the way these themes are viewed and what conclusions viewers arrive at. The four themes are motivators, sacrifice, abuse and manipulation, and surpassing perceived limits. Let’s get into them.

Motivation

A central theme of Whiplash is asking “What drives Andrew?”, the answer to which changes throughout the movie and is often not a single answer. We do not see a simple system with only one motivator even as the story first unfolds. Instead, he starts out with two forces driving him: pure passion for the craft paired with aspiration to be a Great like his hero drummer Buddy Rich. For the rest of the movie, Andrew’s motivation becomes even more complex, polluted by several other factors, namely: proving oneself to a respected figure, competition, pain, the sunk-cost fallacy, fear, and chasing status. There are plenty of other motivators that exist in general and vary depending on the activity, such as seeking better health, religion, and improvement for the sake of improvement, but I will mostly focus on the ones that stood out to me in the movie.

While Andrew is motivated by the listed factors and does not seem to enjoy drumming for the sake of drumming throughout parts of the movie after meeting Fletcher, passion is still a factor even if it often takes a back seat or is buried by the other motivators. At the very least, his passion returns as a bigger influence at the end of the movie once he realizes Fletcher set a trap for him in the new band, and thinks “Fuck it. Nothing matters anymore. I’m just going to drum and show him who’s boss.” The direction of the scene truly evokes a sense of relief and euphoria once Andrew pulls out his best performance right after he was completely ridiculed. My eyes were glued to the screen; I cannot remember the last time I was so captivated by a scene, sympathizing with and rooting for a character so strongly. Anyways, while Andrew is exhausted and in pain, he looks like he is genuinely enjoying himself. Though, as is the case with all the scenes in the movie, the satisfaction he feels once Fletcher smiles and nods approvingly is passion confounded with the motivator of proving oneself to a respected figure!

Before moving on to other motivators, I want to comment on passion in general and apart from the movie. I believe that passion alone is not reliable as a long-term motivator because it has two components that make it fickle: it is both a desire or enthusiasm for something in particular and a feeling/emotion/state of being. This is even expressed in language like “I am/feel passionate about [some thing].” A desire for or interest in something is generally not permanent, nor are feelings and emotions. Because of this impermanence, we have a sense of passion that, depending on circumstances, is often too easily overpowered, suppressed, or simply not present.

As an example of the fluctuation, when someone is making exponential progress as a part of starting a new hobby, their passion (enthusiasm) is in full force. However, once they reach the inevitable skill plateau, which is when small skill increments require much more effort, focus, and time than before, when other people are handily beating them but they can never seem to reach their competition’s level, and when they experience emotional pain, a hurt ego, and/or unbearable physical pain, all of a sudden their sense of passion (feeling, state of being) may be overridden by other feelings or extinguished completely.

This is not to say that passion is useless. It is the same as any other feeling in that it will have a direct impact on outcome if we consciously feel it and put it to use. It benefits from originating from within and often being formed by an early emotionally meaningful experience. While that experience is internal, it is also influenced by the external environment. If someone never hears the sound of an instrument, they can never be passionate about it since they do not know it exists. If they are exposed to the instrument but associate it with something negative, say their abuse at the hand of a parent, they are unlikely to develop a passion for it. If they do not have a proper teacher who shows them why the instrument can be beautiful and artistic, they may never get that initial positive experience that introduces the desire to learn more. Given this, people’s environment should be positive in order to foster the internal experience of passion. Once the internal experience is set, years down the line when they are struggling to hit a checkpoint and others around them are saying that they cannot accomplish it, that they need to rest or give up, and that they should stop torturing themselves, they can turn inward to identify and re-ignite their sense of passion.

In addition to it’s power when it is fine-tuned by internal and external forces, passion is an even more useful motivator when it is for an abstract concept as opposed to a concrete activity. When it is abstract, it is more widely applicable and allows for people to pivot when their current activity no longer allows them to maintain their sense of intense emotion and enthusiasm. For example, a doctor may have the very general passion of helping people with medical issues. This incredibly broad passion is applicable to an unlimited variety of actions and jobs. Imagine if the doctor instead has a passion to practice medicine for a particular population of patients at a specific hospital; that passion is not wrong in any way, it is simply less applicable and less flexible in case of life circumstances that would prevent them from acting on that passion. However, note that a general passion also has a downside: it can be difficult to put into action.

While passion can be used effectively as a motivator through abstraction and use of strong emotions that arise from a meaningful and supportive experience, it lacks consistency and reliability for dealing with overwhelming pain, challenges, and difficulties, which makes it often not a good enough answer to “why?”. I was introduced to the concept of asking “why?” by David Goggins, former Navy SEAL and author of Can’t Hurt Me (the most important book I have ever read), who frames it as follows: when someone is pursuing their dream, the one question their mind will ask them in the moments of pure pain, when every fiber of their being is screaming for them to stop, is “Why am I doing this? Why don’t I stop so the pain stops?”. If their answer is not meaningful enough, the pain will win and they will stop short of where they need to be. They may even give up the endeavor completely if they encounter that threshold of pain too often. All of a sudden, the enthusiasm from their passion transforms into bitterness and a reminder of failure.

What about people who have life-long or “permanent” passions? Does this not fly in the face of the definition that claims it is rooted in impermanent feeling and enthusiasm? It does not, because this more permanent version of passion, always present in some capacity, exists in a separate dimension altogether; it is more akin to the Eastern concept of dharma. Dharma is often translated to English as “duty” but is actually derived from “dhr-“ which means to support or hold something up. Dharma, then, is a constant force whose support brings harmony. A life-long dharmic passion is therefore not something that is driven by interest or feeling - engaging in a dharmic activity may not even evoke strong emotions - because it is a deeper, purely internal and central element of a person; harmony is not gained from leaning into fluctuating emotion. As such, dharma is a much better answer to “why?” because it can be invoked whether or not one is in a highly emotional state and because it matters more to the individual; doing something difficult as a means of building harmony is incredibly meaningful. It is a reason to continue experiencing pain and challenges when one could otherwise do anything else more comfortable. For further exploration of dharma, I recommend checking out this Healthy Gamer stream.

Ultimately, both emotional passion and dharma have their use as motivators, with the latter being much stronger and more reliable, but both versions are at their most potent when called up alongside one or more other motivators at once, just as Andrew does.

This brings us to Andrew’s “dirty” motivators, the ones that motivate very intensely but are external and have a higher likelihood of involving some sort of negativity, consequence, or tradeoff. Unsurprisingly, they all involve Fletcher.

An interesting motivator that Andrew exhibits is the sunk-cost fallacy of effort and pain endured in an endeavor. With every additional day he is in the band, Andrew is objectively improving his drumming but is simultaneously sacrificing dimensions of life like health, relationships, peace of mind, and positive self-concept. By the time Andrew is expelled from Shaffer on 14 April 2014, he has been in school for around eight months (assuming he is still a freshman, though the movie does not confirm this). He has grown and sacrificed so much for what is a significantly long portion of a young man’s formative adult years. At a certain point he is supposedly in too deep to quit, so he continues to make the daily choice to carry on his present path. As we will see in the analysis on sacrifice, the sunk-cost fallacy is one main reason he rushes to the stage right after being in a car crash. This motivator can be both positive and negative. It can provide the extra edge to get us over the finish line when we are so close to it, and at the same time it may create a delusion that prevents us from abandoning a negative circumstance for far too long because we do not have a proper gauge of what our finish line is and how far from it we really are. The sunk-cost fallacy also has the effect of narrowing our awareness of what alternative options we have; we often perceive that our present situation is the only realistic or possible one.

Andrew’s narrowing of options is reminiscent of a student wanting to switch majors in their junior year of college, the ultimate question being: is it worth starting over now, paying all over again, and discarding all that hard work and training for a different opportunity that has so many unknowns and challenges of its own? The problem with this question is that it gives the impression that switching to the new major means that your time on the first major was a complete waste of time and energy. It is absolutely not wasted - from a practical perspective, skills learned in one major are transferable to another major. Furthermore, the experience in the first major provides you a unique perspective that most other students in the new major do not have. Finally, you learned about what you dislike, which is valuable! If your new major is more interesting to you (in a sustained manner), your enjoyment may invoke passion as a motivator, described earlier, which may help you take on more workload and push through difficulties to get back on track quicker. From a more philosophical perspective, nothing says we can only survive and thrive by following life on a predetermined path. You will survive if you stick with your original major or if you switch; you have the capacity to discover and work towards life paths that both majors offer. If you happen to have foresight before beginning college, starting with major B instead of A, there will be a completely unique set of problems you will encounter, and you may not develop some important skills. What if in major A you developed public speaking skills but in major B you did not, then later in your career you need to give your very first public speech and completely bomb? Would the correct conclusion be “Damn, I should have done major A in college so this failure wouldn’t happen”? No! The failure is the learning experience. The image below is fantastic at demonstrating this concept. This was a bit of a tangent and not a one-to-one comparison to Andrew’s situation, but the same analysis and mindset applies; if he leaves or is removed from Fletcher’s band, his future in drumming is not necessarily over, his life opportunities are not over, and it does not say much about his abilities.

One motivator that is present from the beginning of the movie is that of proving oneself to a respected figure, which has two components: seeking validation and recognizing that the respected figure will provide great opportunities if they are impressed. From day one, Fletcher tells Andrew both directly and indirectly that he is not good enough of a drummer. Yet, he keeps Andrew in the band. So Andrew wants to impress Fletcher, knowing that doing so would mean he is an objectively good drummer and would open up vast opportunities that may not be available without Fletcher. Fletcher is clearly a respected figure because Andrew knows who he is before any introductions are made. Andrew’s dad later asks him “[Fletcher’s] opinion means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” to which Andrew nods, and somewhat dreamily says “Yeah.” Fletcher’s elevated status at Shaffer is also seen when he walks into one of Andrew’s other classes and takes over to test random band members. Andrew went to Shaffer for a reason - to be “one of the Greats” - and Fletcher is a means to that goal. In Andrew’s first attempt at drumming in the band, Fletcher yells at him for not being on tempo and throws a chair at his head. Importantly, after this abuse Andrew does correctly recognize that he was rushing the tempo. This shows that Fletcher is actually knowledgeable and is not bullshitting; Andrew does have room to improve. While the experience traumatizes Andrew and gets him in tears, he ends up respecting Fletcher more because of the objective correctness of his critique and perfection of how he wants his band to play. When Fletcher says “We got Buddy Rich here” then subsequently calls Andrew a “worthless… little piece of shit,” Fletcher makes his bar known and then makes it clear Andrew does not meet it, which raises his status in Andrew’s eyes (more on Fletcher’s use of emotional whiplash (roll credits) in the abuse and manipulation analysis).

Now that we have established Fletcher as a respected figure, we see all the times Andrew is motivated to prove himself to Fletcher in order to receive validation. After the first competition in which Andrew replaces Tanner due to a sheet music mishap, Fletcher makes him core drummer and we see him looking quite satisfied with himself. Then, in the night rehearsal before the second competition, Andrew, Tanner, and the new third drummer Ryan are in a competition to earn the right to play. While this is also the competition motivator, which we will cover next, the main motivator in this instance ends up not being competition; all three drummers are completely spent, do not satisfy Fletcher for hours, and are constantly rotated out only after a few seconds of playing. None of them are in any danger of getting removed from the band, and after a certain number of hours and number of attempts they simply want to be done with that damn practice session! However, that requires proving themselves to Fletcher. It is a difficult piece to play and they know Fletcher’s high standards; they are simply not meeting the bar. Once Andrew finally plays the piece to Fletcher’s liking, he feels incredible because Fletcher says “you earned the part,” finally giving him that treasured validation that makes him temporarily forget the abuse and emotional manipulation, motivating him to continue drumming even harder.

As for competition, Fletcher utilizes it exceptionally well to drive Andrew to try harder and pull him even further into his system. Sometimes people experiencing similar hardships while trying to reach a common goal will share a kinship with one another. However, Fletcher does not let this happen because he plays on the instability of the core drumming position and on Andrew’s own insecurities about not being good enough, which Fletcher previously planted, ultimately triggering Andrew to turn against the other drummers instead of lifting them up. When Ryan plays for the first time, Fletcher praises him, to which Andrew responds, “This shit?”. Andrew being right about Ryan’s drumming being poor is besides the point; what matters is that Fletcher, knowing Ryan is worse, praises him because he knows it will make Andrew see Ryan as a threat and thus work harder to not lose his position. Fletcher equates the position of backup drummer to “not good enough” which is problematic as there is never any sense of security; the drummers must compete and become better than the others or else they do not perform and soon may not even be in the band.

At the same time, the nature of competition for the position is not nefarious; Studio Band enters in competitions, so of course any band leader, with or without Fletcher’s leadership style, would play the best band members available. Further, there are tangible benefits to being the core drummer which are independent of Fletcher in any way. First, in practice sessions they get more reps in during practice sessions, which compounds to make them better drummers. Second, in performances they get to display their skills to the audience while the backup drummer turns their pages. These benefits are absolutely something that a drummer should want if they care about their endeavors, so they contribute to competition being such a powerful motivator for people like Andrew.

Two more motivators, entwined with one another, are chasing status and the fear of losing it. The entire motivation to become a Great is born from a subjective perspective of status. While Greats objectively do have exceptional skills and output, it is our perception of the individual that makes them a Great. Proof of this is that there are some people who believe that the Beatles are the greatest musical act in human history while others find nothing interesting about them, like a 90-year-old that told me they just produce noise in comparison to his favorite artists like Ella Fitzgerald. A Great is someone in society that is not only truly great at what they do, but is also recognized as such, meaning they hold a certain status above others; their greatness, skill, and creativity is separate from their status in human history. If one wishes to be a Great, status must necessarily be a dimension of success that they seek.

So why does Andrew strive to become one of the Greats? Why is he not satisfied with a high drumming position or with drumming as an art form on its own? After all, he was chosen to attend a top music school and play in the most coveted school orchestra; he should gain contentment from these facts. His goal and lack of satisfaction until the goal is reached come from a core feeling of not being enough. The thought of “not enough” comes from the ego, comparison, and shame (for further reading, see Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly). The following scene demonstrates this beautifully.

During a dinner with his father and what I presume to be his extended family, Andrew is asked how band is going and begins to answer before Travis and Dustin walk in and steal the spotlight, with the conversation turning to the boys’ various successes before the lady says, “And Andy, with your drumming” as an afterthought, a simple kindness to include Andrew in the conversation. Andrew then tries to elevate his image, mentioning his position as a core member of Studio Band and its prestige. Once the group returns to talking about Travis’ football success, Andrew says “It’s Division Three” and later mentions “Being the greatest musician of the 20th century is anybody’s idea of success…. I’d rather die drunk, broke at 34 and have people talk about me, than live to be rich and sober at 90 and nobody remembers who I was.” The scene continues as they go back and forth about what success is before Dustin asks “You think you’re better than us?” to which Andrew replies, “Catch on quick.”

This scene is a stellar example of Andrew’s craving for recognition and his irritation at his current lack of it. He is chasing status, like “being the greatest musician,” for the purpose of “having people talk about [him]” because his impressive accomplishments thus far are clearly not worthy of conversation. He is insecure about himself because he ties his self-worth to his status, causing his ego to activate. The ego says that the table’s reaction to the boys’ accomplishments is disproportionate to their “objective’’ magnitude. So, since he was unsuccessful in raising his own status in the group, he instead must lower theirs to even things out.

In addition to Andrew’s current accomplishments not being enough for others to take him seriously, which causes him to hunt for more success, he is motivated by the fear of losing his drumming position. A valid concern is that the position itself provides him growth opportunities, but the deeper motivator is his fear of losing what the position represents - his status; if he were to lose it, what would he amount to? Ironically, he winds up expelled from Shaffer anyways, at which point we would hope that he has a journey of self-improvement where he concludes that his worth is not tied to his career and should not be derived from any comparison to others, though we never see him reach that conclusion by the end of the movie. Using status as a motivator is an easy trap for someone with insecurity, but if they are able to reflect and separate out the exceptional status of greatness from exceptional skill, working only towards the latter, they may enjoy a much healthier state of being where they appreciate their accomplishments regardless of others’ opinions.

Perseverance, surpassing perceived limits, and resilience

The final major theme is three-fold: it is an exploration of perseverance by asking “how hard do I push myself before saying enough is enough?”, of surpassing perceived limits, and of resilience by asking “how much failure do I endure before saying enough is enough?”. To begin, we must first concretely define perseverance and limits. We do not use the term perseverance when talking about doing something pleasant or easy, when we are coasting within the comfort zone. Instead, perseverance is the ability to do something challenging for an extended period of time, something that takes us to the edge of our abilities. This edge of ability is what I call the absolute life-spanning physics-bound limit. Physics-bound refers to the limits we humans have that are bound by the laws of physics, both for physical and mental exercises. Life-spanning refers to the absolute maximum physics-bound limit that is possible for an individual when considering their entire lifetime from birth to death, including what is yet to happen. This is important because our physics-bound limit of today is not our physics-bound limit of tomorrow. As a simple example, take a hypothetical person’s physics-bound limit of today as bench pressing 100 pounds. If they eat properly, sleep well, and train a few times, their physics-bound limit in four weeks may be 115 pounds. If they choose to instead eat poorly, forgo sleep, and forgo training, their physics-bound limit in four weeks may still be 100 pounds. This leads to a critical realization: the absolute life-spanning physics-bound limit is plastic and assumes continuously optimal life choices. I will continue to refer to this limit as just the “absolute limit.” Because we (1) rarely get to the edge of the laws of physics, (2) are not always make optimal life choices because we make mistakes and cannot know the future, and (3) do not exist in a vacuum where we are free of external influences, no human being ever hits their absolute limits as I define them.

If that is the case, then why discuss the absolute limits? Because knowing what they are permits us to conclude that the limits we believe we have - perceived limits - are actually somewhere below the absolute limits. If you have the thought “I can’t, that’s outside of my abilities,” you must think again; is the task really outside of your absolute life-spanning physics-bound limit in that domain? The answer to that question is “No” because if the perceived limits in our mind were our absolute limits, then we would by definition never be able to surpass those limits. Yet, time and time again, there are countless examples that each of us can pull from our own lives where we have surpassed our limits, either in the physical dimension or life-spanning dimension. Therefore, they are not real, they are self-imposed; whatever we think our limits are, they are actually at least a step beyond that. Thinking otherwise holds us back.

The above realizations give us hope because they confirm that we have so much more room for improvement and accomplishment than we believe. Just as with the absolute limits, perceived limits actively depend on our choices, so once we increase our perceived limits in order to increase the intensity of our goals, we can make use of our body and mind to accomplish even greater feats; if our perceived limits are low, we will set our goals low and take actions that only reach that minimal threshold. We can make many, though not all, optimal life choices to get us closer to the absolute limits where each time we surpass our less-than-absolute perceived limits we gain a tangible improvement to our lives. Another benefit is that we collect an additional data point confirming that we have indeed held ourselves back in a way dependent on how our perceived limits are set.

The purpose of the deep dive into limits is to put into context Fletcher’s goals, which, to him, justify his actions (recall “I will never apologize for how I tried”). When Andrew, Ryan, and Tanner are competing until two in the morning to play Caravan in the upcoming competition, it seems like they will never reach Fletcher’s desired speed because they have already been at it for five hours. They are all more likely than not to simply give up and leave disappointed. However, when Andrew perseveres, ending the session after finally satisfying Fletcher and earning the part, he has surpassed the perceived limit of what was thought possible for any of the drummers. As mentioned previously, to go beyond that limit Andrew sacrifices substantially and undergoes profound emotional and physical pain. On that same thread, Fletcher says in their jazz club conversation, “I was [at Shaffer] to push people beyond what’s expected of them. I believe that’s an absolute necessity. Otherwise we’re depriving the world of the next Louis Armstrong.” Fletcher recognizes that people set their perceived limits too low, which in turn creates mediocrity, so his intention has been to raise their limits. We previously established that the perceived limit is a moving goal post dependent on both our mental beliefs and actions; Fletcher clearly comes to the same conclusion. Thus, he reasons that when limits are low and people do not have something, either internal or external, to push them past their perceived limits, they do not have something to move them through the journey which necessitates pain, effort, and discomfort to reach levels of mastery exhibited by people like Louis Armstrong. Fletcher is very grand in his vision: pushing past perceived limits is the way to unlock new potential in humanity and get closer to species-wide absolute limits.

Because of his worldview described above, Fletcher is repulsed by people who do not push their own perceived limits or find others who help them do so. That repulsion leads him to criticize people that encourage others with supportive language, saying “there are no two more harmful words in the English language than ‘good job’” before talking dreamily and approvingly about the story of Charlie Parker getting a cymbal thrown at his head. He says that despite being ridiculed and nearly getting decapitated, Charlie still woke up the next day and practiced. Here Fletcher describes resilience, which is the ability to recover from difficult failures by doing the same thing the next day despite the activity now being clouded by an association of pain and shame. Resilience is important because it enables people to live life with a meaningful level of control over outcomes and trajectory, which again calls back to the ability to continually raise perceived limits and attain progress in surpassing them. Through that lens, Fletcher’s disdain for supportive behavior is understandable because he believes it prevents people from building up resilience, which deprives them of a crucial characteristic that allows them to become a Great.

Andrew visibly seems to believe that Fletcher’s intentions are respectable so far as they attempt to enable worthy outcomes. At the same time, he recognizes that the methods Fletcher uses cultivate an extremely abusive environment, so he asks if he can ever take it too far and discourage the next Charlie Parker. Fletcher says “No man, no. Because the next Charlie Parker would never be discouraged.” He believes that extremes are justified not just to push an individual past their perceived limits but also to actually find the individual that can be pushed past them without being discouraged; he believes that there are those who are Charlie Parkers and those who are not, with his methodology weeding out the latter. Clearly Fletcher does help Andrew push past his perceived limits, which is made possible because Andrew is already a resilient individual and has several motivators accessible to him. Finally, Fletcher’s methodology really does produce his Great in the form of Andrew; the result provides him the justification to accept whatever consequences and casualties may have occurred along the way.

Now we get into the discussion on whether the environment Fletcher creates is truly worth the results, covering some pitfalls surrounding the mentality. Be aware that these are my own subjective opinions and interpolations. Let’s plow forward!

First, we must tackle the core of what causes Fletcher to be so steadfast in his ways: his belief that his abusive and unsupportive environment is the only medium through which to achieve great success. Such an environment is certainly an avenue that leads to success, but I do not believe it to be a necessary prerequisite. While I do not have non-anecdotal evidence that non-abusive environments also can lead to greatness, Fletcher’s perspective is also built upon anecdote and belief. Just as there are examples of people who were abused by a superior to become Great, there are others who were not. I believe that the foundation for resilience can be cultivated through a confluence of goals, setbacks, non-abusive yet meaningful emotional life experiences, and a plethora of motivators.

While I did not find academic literature exploring the influence of teacher involvement on greatness in particular, I did find a study by Monteiro et al. on the role of teacher feedback on student behavioral engagement, which is relevant to Fletcher’s claim about what kind of feedback is conducive to success. The study found that “in classrooms where teachers used more effective feedback creating a supportive classroom environment, students had higher… behavioral engagement levels,” which contrasts Fletcher’s argument that being supportive and saying “good job” causes individuals to plateau and cease putting in effort. In addition, the research found that Fletcher’s style of communication, often “negative and uninformative feedback…draws attention away from the task and toward self-esteem” and will cause the opposite effect of what he is aiming for: it “‘can have a negative effect on attitudes and performance’” and “has the most evident negative influences [of the approaches studied] because it reduces the experience of autonomy and self-efficacy.” This means that when Fletcher hurls personal insults unrelated to the task, the student’s performance and motivation to try harder decreases.

To believe as Fletcher does means that one believes in the ends justifying the means of manipulation, maltreatment, and abuse. That is a personal subjective belief, with my perspective being that it does not. The first reason for my belief is based on the effect it has on the entire student body’s success, intellect, and mental health. There are several pieces of academic literature that, while not exploring the influence of the environment on greatness, support the idea that children exposed to negative environmental influences will negatively affect academic achievement, intellect, and psychological well-being. A caveat with this literature is that it solely explores the correlations between environment and the aforementioned dimensions specifically pertaining to children, meaning it excludes young adults, the population directly relevant to the discussion of Whiplash. However, at this time I frankly could not find any research pertaining to adults or correlation between environment and success in a non-academic dimension, but I believe discussing this literature is relevant as Fletcher never claims his environment to only be applicable to adults.

On intelligence, in a study by Perez and Widom on 413 previously abused and neglected individuals and a 286 matched control group, it was found that “abused and neglected and control group individuals differed significantly in IQ and reading ability, even when controlling for age, sex, race, and social class.” In a study by Eckenrode et al., “A representative community sample of 420 maltreated children in kindergarten through Grade 12 were matched with 420 non-maltreated children in the same community. …The authors found maltreated children performed significantly below their non-maltreated peers in standardized tests and grades and were more likely to repeat a grade. Maltreated children also had significantly more discipline referrals and suspensions. Of the maltreated children, neglected children showed the poorest outcomes on academic performance, and physically abused children showed the most discipline problems.” The finding on physically abused children showing discipline issues was most interesting to me as it reminds me of how aggressive and outspoken Andrew becomes towards the end of Whiplash, culminating in him physically attacking Fletcher.

In a meta-analysis of 124 studies by Norman et al. examining the association between physical abuse, emotional abuse, and neglect in childhood and various health outcomes, it was found that “despite some variability, overall, child physical abuse, emotional abuse, and neglect were found to approximately double the likelihood of adverse mental health outcomes” like anxiety disorders, drug abuse, and suicidal behavior. Furthermore, “those experiencing more severe abuse or neglect were at greater risk of developing mental disorders than those experiencing less severe maltreatment.” In a separate study by Romano et al., “results indicated that children with maltreatment histories often experience impairments in both their academic performance (e.g., special education, grade retention, lower grades) and mental well-being (e.g., anxiety, low mood, aggression, social skills deficits, poor interpersonal relationships).” The greater risk of developing mental disorders is, to me, the most concerning finding from all the research referenced, as these disorders may completely ruin a person’s experience of life for years to come unless they receive proper support to undo the damage.

The second reason I believe the ends do not justify the means is the pain inflicted on those who are not crowned Great. The students that survive in Fletcher’s band do benefit in some ways, but whether the experience was worth it only has a personal answer. Andrew may end up appreciating his difficult experience later in life because of the resilience and perseverance it forced him to experience; this is actually a healthy perspective as it allows him to feel some ownership over his past instead of ruminating about it. At the same time, there also exists a laundry list of students who experienced very little of the growth or euphoria that students like Andrew did, meaning they are just left with the scars from the abuse and possibly with mental disorders as discussed above. It is important to consider the people in Andrew’s situation that, for one reason or another, do not end in “success,” where the individual is unable to meet the demands of the mentor. This can be for a multitude of reasons, such as genetics, not wanting it badly enough, having several environmental difficulties, or internal struggles they have not overcome yet. Dissecting whether any of them are “valid reasons” is a whole other can of worms, though my opinion is that even though it would be nice for everyone to be able to overcome all of those reasons - “excuses,” some may say - the reality is that not everyone will be able to overcome their unique set of challenges to become the best of the best, though I strongly believe they can get quite far. With this, we must consider the survival bias of only thinking about the Andrews. The main character we follow may gain success despite the abuse, but for every Andrew, how many Sean Caseys are there, people whose lives are irrevocably damaged or indirectly ended by the Fletchers of the world? I do not believe that the trail of dead bodies accumulated in order to mentor one person to Greatness is a worthy sacrifice.

Furthermore, I believe that Fletcher’s entire mindset about encouragement and support does a disservice to most people; must we discount anyone who has ever given up as not being good enough? Do we remove all support from said individuals because they have already proven they do not have what it takes and thus will never be the next Charlie Parker? I would be remise to claim that people who fail in an abusive environment have no motivation, skill, or resilience deficit. They likely do have those deficits to varying degrees; and, at the same time, just because they fail in such an environment does not mean they can never close the gap on said deficits. As such, if someone believes that an unsupportive environment is the only one conducive to success, it is a very narrow and selective perspective that does not consider the points made above. Furthermore, a supportive environment does not mean an unambitious environment! It is often having a supportive team that openly recognize both strengths and growth areas which gets people out of a funk by not equating failures to some core flaw about them as a person and by providing guidance on how to exit the slump.

I also wish to address Fletcher’s assertion that a Great can never be discouraged: it completely undermines the reality that even Greats can be temporarily discouraged. As anecdotal evidence, LeBron James, an undisputed Great in basketball, said in an interview/podcast with JJ Redick that when he enters a slump he will watch his own highlight clips from previous years, presumably to put him in a better mental state to push through the challenges he is failing to overcome.

While the movie does not cover it, extremely abusive or even just emotionally extreme environments may also create problems of longevity in regards to perseverance and success. It is not clear whether someone who was resilient while under the thumb of an abusive mentor for a few years will or will not burn out some time afterwards, and similarly no conclusion can be made for someone who was never abused. Somewhat separately but still in the same vein, Navy SEALs and Marines, despite being some of the most elite and exclusive branches of military with its members having conquered extremely difficult trainings and truly stressful combat situations to complete their service, have veterans that commit suicide; the Navy’s veteran suicide rate was 8% in 2023 (page 23 of the VA’s 2023 National Veteran Suicide Prevention Annual Report). These individuals, who by some measures have achieved greatness especially as compared to the civilian population, have experience in some of the most extreme environments in the world yet struggle with mental health and mental illness after returning to a civilian environment. This indicates that succeeding in a difficult trial of life does not mean you can conquer everything thereafter. A person’s lifelong resilience and greatness is a highly individual hypothetical scenario that we can never definitively determine through experiment because we can never rewind the tape for a specific person. Therefore, the idea that greatness achieved after a period of not being discouraged results in greatness, success, and perseverance for life is not necessarily true. While a person’s skill and talent may be accessible later in life, we cannot predict whether the person’s “clean” or even “dirty” motivators will still be subsequently present nor whether their environment will trigger an unexpected fall from grace.

Ultimately this theme is the most nuanced, where both perspectives of finding inspiration and being appalled by Fletcher bring up valid points. My takeaway is ultimately something that movie does not exemplify but instead is something that comes up when thinking about Fletcher’s certainty that his method is the right one; I believe that in life there are ways to motivate others and ourselves to push limits without being Fletchers. I believe that the method to surpass your limits is to take the acceptance of pain into your own hands: you are doing it for yourself and to achieve greatness in skill, not for any of the “dirty motivators” that I covered, like chasing status or validation from a respected figure. If Andrew was somehow able to be in Fletcher’s band and withstand all the abuse that comes with it but be motivated only by his own desire for skill, dharma, and purpose, I feel that is an understandable reason to stay in the band because he holds both a sufficient level of detachment from the environment and control of self. However, I don’t really see this being possible for Andrew during the time period we know him, and at that point it would be more valuable for him to find a different drumming opportunity with a healthier dynamic. For a further exploration into self-motivating, I recommend you read Can’t Hurt Me by David Goggins.

Sacrifice

Andrew makes immense sacrifices throughout the movie for the sake of his drumming, which is expected of any person working towards a goal. Nevertheless, witnessing Andrew’s sacrifices is heartbreaking when they are driven by his obsession to be great, which itself is taken advantage of and influenced by Fletcher’s manipulation. It is a fact of life that we have to prioritize making time for certain activities while letting others fall by the wayside. In fact, it is very healthy to recognize this and make sacrifices for the purpose of pursuing something meaningful to oneself; achieving greatness requires improvement, which requires time, which requires sacrifice. The sacrifice is of many dimensions: comfort, well-being (both physical and mental), social, time spent engaging in other activities, and even of removing energy-wasting thoughts occupying one’s conscious mind.

One of the sacrifices that Andrew makes in the movie is of time spent on non-drumming endeavors, specifically the time required by his romantic relationship with Nicole. Even without Fletcher’s involvement, Andrew still spends personal time drumming thanks to both his passion and his commitment as a student. In fact, in the opening scene before Fletcher finds him, he is drumming alone in what looks to be a practice room after-hours. I would imagine that during the time when drumming was a passion and standard commitment for him, he would have personal and band practice time reasonably structured in his schedule so he may strike a balance between time spent on drumming and time on anything else. Similarly, I could see him being able to think about things other than drumming from time to time, which would make relationships feasible and productive.

Fletcher, as any ambitious leader would, likely holds many lengthy practice sessions with his band. However, he takes it a step further with his ruthlessly ambitious and unpredictable persona, which manifests in two ways: (1) as unpredictably long practice sessions and (2) as the hazing of band members. For example, when he was unsatisfied with how fast the drummers could play Caravan, he had them and the rest of the band stay put until someone played fast enough, which Andrew finally accomplished at two in the morning the day of their competition. As for hazing, Andrew’s very first session with Studio Band started at nine in the morning, but Fletcher told him to arrive at six. With such unpredictability and hazing, Andrew learns that he does not know when he will need to practice with the band or for how long - any prediction he has may be incorrect by virtue of Fletcher’s flat-out lies or his extension of the band’s practice past the scheduled end time. The consequence for Andrew is that he has to be ready to abandon all other commitments or interests at the drop of a hat, which is especially difficult in social relationships, like in his relationship with Nicole, because it requires another person who accepts that Fletcher is of higher importance to Andrew than they are.

The realization that his drumming is a far less flexible and far more important commitment than Nicole leads Andrew to break up with her. With brutal honesty, he lays out the trajectory of their relationship in regards to his commitments and the resulting resentment:

“I’m just going to lay it out there. This is why I don’t think we should be together. And I’ve thought about it a lot, and this is what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna keep pursuing what I’m pursuing. And because I’m doing that, it’s gonna take up more of my time and I’m not gonna be able to spend as much time with you. And even when I do spend time with you, I’m gonna be thinking about drumming. And I’m gonna be thinking about jazz music and my charts and all that. And because of all that you’re gonna start to resent me. And you’re gonna tell me to ease up on the drumming and spend more time with you because you’re not feeling important. And I’m not gonna be able to do that. And really I’m just gonna start to resent you for even asking me to stop drumming. And we’re just gonna start to hate each other. And it’s gonna be ugly… Because I wanna be great… I wanna be one of the Greats.”

After his spiel, Nicole asks him if he knows for a fact that she would stop him from becoming a Great, and he says yes. Is breaking up the right call? Is Andrew being reasonable? If you accept Andrew’s perspective in the scene, it is both the right call and reasonable. However, his perspective itself is unreasonable.

Given his present perspective, the breakup is the right call because of the present reality involving both Fletcher’s demands and Andrew’s unwavering obsession. It would be the wrong call if he was willing to make adjustments, but since at this point in the movie he is not, he is actually doing Nicole a favor by letting her know he is unable to give her what she deserves. Logically, he is being reasonable because he recognizes that to prove himself to Fletcher (recall this motivator) he will need to pour more time into drumming. He also knows that, regardless of his skill level, Fletcher has the capacity to call up the entire band for an emergency practice session at some odd and unexpected time or even to extend planned sessions. Andrew knows he would prioritize that over Nicole, even in a scenario in which they have a date scheduled.

His obsession over drumming and its prioritization over a very new relationship is also reasonable from his perspective because he believes that Fletcher holds his future in his hands, and that missing any one session or being viewed as lazy or undependable would mean the end of his dream. It is important to view the breakup in context: it does not come after a random scene or some gradual realization of the time commitment. Instead, it comes immediately after Fletcher brings in Ryan Connolly as an alternate drummer and tells Andrew he needs to earn his part, explicitly challenging him and threatening his role in the band. Now Andrew’s actions make more sense; he cannot coast because he is told he has not earned anything; if he has not earned anything, he must work towards earning it. If he did not earn it with what have already presumably been many arduous hours of drumming, then staving off removal from the core position necessitates that he must not do or think about anything other than drumming.

Despite the above, the breakup is unreasonable because of the unreasonable nature of his obsession, which is molded by Fletcher’s persona, abuse, and manipulation (covered in the abuse and manipulation section); these act as major motivators and cause Andrew’s perspective to narrow. We may hypothesize that if Andrew was not under Fletcher’s thumb or if he had a different perspective, his relationship with drumming would ease up enough to prevent him from needing to sacrifice everything else.

The tragedy is that once his bout with Fletcher ends, Andrew is lonely and realizes he threw away a part of his life for Fletcher and still did not get what was “promised” in return for his sacrifice, so he calls Nicole to reconnect. It turns out she had moved on and now has a boyfriend, so Andrew is left with no drumming prestige and no girlfriend. Despite the turn of events up until that point in the movie, his sacrifice was not completely in vain; he made the sacrifice in a specific moment in time with specific circumstances and goals involved. He cannot predict the future to know if his sacrifice will bear fruit. Further, it is a fantastic and relatively low-cost learning experience (since it is implied to have been a short relationship) of what kind of social sacrifices may or may not be valuable in the long term, what he should prioritize, and how he may balance various commitments.

A non-low-cost sacrifice is his car accident in Dunellen when he forgets his drum sticks at the car rental office. The direction of this scene is stellar. My anxiety is through the roof after he is berated by Fletcher, has only minutes left to retrieve his drum sticks, then shouts and swears at a band member on the phone before the crash. It is funny that in both cases of recitals shown in the movie Andrew either gains or loses an opportunity because he puts something down and then loses or forgets it. Anyways, once the truck hits him, he gets out and books it to the recital hall. At this point my hands were on my head and I was saying “Oh my God, this guy is crazy.” But he is not crazy; we again must consider the context of the scene. The car accident is not the first time we see Andrew sacrifice physical wellbeing for drumming, though it is the most extreme instance thus far. He had put himself through physical pain, experienced mental anguish, and devoted countless hours of practice by this point; in so many prior scenes we see Andrew is sweating bullets, in pain, at his physical limit, and has completely bloodied hands and fingers. The car crash must have felt like a continuation of the challenges he had already faced. By this point, Andrew is already accustomed to sacrificing his health and wellbeing and has developed a mental callous and persistence. It is compounded by the fact that Fletcher previously told Andrew he earned the part yet is minutes away from revoking that honor and giving the part to Ryan. Experiencing a setback literally minutes away from his big moment and being one foot away from the finish line invokes the sunk-cost fallacy (recall this motivator); in that moment he believes that he has poured too much time and pain into his endeavor to be stopped; there is no future opportunity, only this one. So, when he realizes he is physically “fine” - at least fine enough to move - he thinks “Fuck it. Things are already so screwed and I’ve already been through so much, I will not let these roadblocks prevent me from accomplishing what I set out to do.” That is in and of itself a virtuous quality to have, as opposed to allowing any setback to serve as an excuse to give up. The movie, however, takes this virtuous quality to the extreme with the car crash to demonstrate just how obsessed with his goal Andrew became.

I also want to mention sacrifice in a more broad sense that concerns multiple people, specifically the idea of sacrificing the wellbeing and lives of many - in the movie this is both metaphorical and literal - as a means to crown a select few as Greats. Fletcher cycles through many musicians in his band because they do not meet his standards and do not produce a Great. He continues his extreme style of leadership for years, likely leaving many musicians with scarred senses of self-worth and a reduced will in pursuing music, either believing they are not good enough or simply being fed up with being abused. One former student, Sean Casey, even commits suicide after suffering from depression, which Sean’s mother claims began during his tenure as Fletcher’s student. While the end result of the trail-of-dead-bodies approach is often that there are a few individuals that achieve astronomic levels of skill and success, as Andrew does in Whiplash, it can be downright inhumane and requires a complete lack of empathy from the leaders in that system. The existence of other methods that help individuals and organizations achieve great success that are rooted in empathy and support but still permit people to surpass their perceived limits instead of using abuse makes the approach all the less worthwhile. While the success story may - or perhaps may not - enjoy the fruits of their labor, what of the rest of those who tried and failed? Is it worth sacrificing their wellbeing and lives when you can accomplish so much without such abuse (discussed in the perseverance section).

Abuse and manipulation

The third theme, which is weaved into every other theme and in every scene involving Fletcher, is abuse and manipulation in a toxic environment. I will go over some of the abusive moments that were not touched upon in the previous themes, mention others again if there is more to say, and go over the interesting characteristics about the environment and relationship that abuse creates.

Within 18 minutes of the movie, shit already begins to hit the fan. Andrew is wide-eyed, ready to learn, and, as we very quickly find out, naive to the kind of environment he got himself into. In Andrew’s first session with Studio Band, Fletcher berates the players because one of them is playing out of tune. Instead of pointing out the individual and helping them correct it, he instead asks the trombone player, Metz, if he was out of tune. When Metz cowers and looks down, Fletcher says “There’s no fucking Mars bar down there” and asks again. He says yes, so Fletcher yells at him, hurls more insults, and kicks him out of the band. There is a twist though; Fletcher says that it was actually Erickson who was out of tune but Metz not knowing is worse, so he had to go. This was an “Oh shit, this is what we’re going to be dealing with” moment for me. It masterfully set the emotional baseline; I understood that this was not going to be a normal, let alone supportive, environment.

The most obvious display of abuse is verbal; because it is sprinkled into nearly every scene with Fletcher, we will not go into too much detail but it is worth mentioning that he uses it masterfully by not only hurling generalized insults and names at both individuals and the band as a whole, but by attacking students’ known emotional weak points. At the beginning of the movie, Fletcher learns about Andrew’s family life. This becomes information he uses throughout the movie to insult Andrew, like saying “No wonder Mommy ran out on you” and “By the time you’re done at Shaffer you’re going to make Daddy look like a fucking success story.” The timing is also important: Fletcher uses a personalized insult when Andrew is already feeling low for one reason or another to get him to his breaking point. Sometimes that breaking point causes Andrew to despair, other times to lash out in anger, and in yet other cases to accomplish something great. In any case, the verbal abuse is a classic in Fletcher’s toolbox.

Additionally, the verbal abuse creates a culture where the band members are allowed to speak to and about one another in an extremely unprofessional manner, which calls back to the discussion of the competition motivator. Fletcher himself is constantly offending and berating his band through use of vulgar and hurtful language, so this bleeds into their behavior as well. As one quick example, after Metz was kicked out of Studio Band, Andrew overhears a player say of Metz, “You know, if Bud put half the effort into playing the trombone as he did polishing a cheeseburger…” As previously mentioned in the motivators section, we also see Andrew exhibit this behavior when Fletcher praises Ryan, to which Andrew says “this shit?” directly in front of him. The most aggressive instance of such unprofessionalism is the scene right before Andrew leaves to recover his drum sticks from the car dealership. One after another, Andrew says to Fletcher, “Yeah like fucking hell he’s playing my part,” then to Ryan, “Hey, fuck off, Johnny Utah. Turn my pages, bitch” then later to a bandmate on the phone, “Why don’t you just tell Fletcher that I’m coming, you motherfucker?” Fletcher hears the first two remarks and implicitly endorses them since he does not acknowledge them as problematic. The intra-band verbal insults makes the competition motivator even more powerful since instead of the musicians banding together to support one another, the active antagonism strips away any semblance of a healthy, normal competitive environment. The same way that Fletcher judges them, they begin to judge one another.

Another way Fletcher insults people is by not giving credit where credit is due in order to manipulate the situation. For example, Fletcher downplays Andrew’s successes when he leaves to recover his drum sticks, saying “You never earned anything. The only reason you’re in Studio Band to begin with is because I told you exactly what I’d be asking for in Nassau. The only reason you’re a fucking core is because you ‘misplaced a folder’.” He knows that Andrew is insecure about his abilities because of the uncertainty surrounding the core position so he uses the knowledge to lower Andrew and call attention to the power structure that he controls.

The insults are only one half of a Fletcher manipulation tactic, which is acting hot and cold, switching between the two on a dime. He is not always abusive; if he was, everyone would reach their breaking point too early after realizing the abuse is not worth it and drop out of Studio Band. Instead, he will occasionally tell a band member something encouraging or tell them they have earned his respect. This gives them hope and a dopamine hit, along with surfacing their motivation to stay in Studio Band by way of proving oneself to a respected figure. At various points, Fletcher tells Andrew to just have fun, that he earned the part, and that the other drummers were only there to test him to become the Great that Fletcher is looking for. All of these, especially the last one, inflate Andrew’s ego and hit the nerve of what drives him.

However, usually after he says something positive, he will crush Andrew’s spirit with something negative. This emotional whiplash has the purpose of keeping Andrew on his feet, not allowing him to build himself up or relax for long. Instead, Andrew works tirelessly to avoid Fletcher’s tirades and to receive positive acknowledgement from him in the future. On a more abstract level, it serves to flex Fletcher’s power over Andrew and the band; he can truly do and say whatever he wants, and he will get what he wants from you; otherwise, you are out. In fact, Fletcher directly tells Andrew “When did you become a fucking expert on what I can or cannot do” (followed, quite expectedly, by “you weepy willow shit sack”). If he can give them the part, he can take it away. If he can raise them up, he can break them down. This is both subtext and explicitly demonstrated.

And when Fletcher on rare occasion does not get his way, like getting fired from Shaffer, he uses premeditated manipulation to get his revenge. During their conversation in the jazz club after both of them are out of Shaffer, he knows that Andrew was the one who confirmed to the lawyer about his abusive style. They have a deep and personal moment, culminating with, “The truth is, Andrew, I never really had a Charlie Parker. But I tried. I actually fucking tried. And that’s more than most people ever do. And I will never apologize for how I tried,” which we see resonates with Andrew based off his facial expression and from our motivator analysis. Fletcher then invites Andrew to his new band, which we know is a premeditated plan to humiliate Andrew since the piece is one that Andrew does not know. Fletcher literally would sabotage his own band’s performance to get back at Andrew. This calls into question how much of a “real moment” that jazz club conversation was.

Finally, the most outrageous manipulation in the movie is Fletcher’s lie to Andrew and the band about what happened to Sean Casey, his former student. Instead of telling them the truth, that he committed suicide, Fletcher tells them he died because of a car accident. It is later revealed by a lawyer that Fletcher’s abuse allegedly contributed to the tragedy. Fletcher must know the emotional impact that he has on students like Sean, otherwise he would not have actively lied about Sean’s cause of death. Fletcher choosing to mention Sean Casey and lie about his cause of death is even more despicable than if he had known the cause but simply never mentioned the student; he lied for the purpose of creating an emotionally heartfelt moment for the band to keep them on their current path and involvement with Fletcher by listening to a recording of Sean’s beautiful trumpeting. If students knew the real cause, they may reconsider their position in Studio Band and find a healthier growth opportunity.

What is next for Andrew?

While the end of the movie is uplifting and rewarding because Andrew really does accomplish greatness in his final solo, where both he and Fletcher look to be massively enjoying themselves and Andrew looks to have genuinely earned Fletcher’s respect after going rogue, I find it interesting to think about what happens after the movie. Is it a happily ever after, where Andrew believes in his own drumming ability independent of Fletcher and chooses to pursue the craft on his own? Or does he continue to drum for Fletcher because he knows how much Fletcher pushes him to reach even greater heights? In that case, would Fletcher still be abusive? The beauty of the already complex story culminating with such an ending is that this climax allows for several possibilities!

If Andrew sticks with Fletcher, I believe it is unlikely that Fletcher would stop abusing him because he finally reached a satisfactory level; part of Fletcher’s methodology is to prove to his students that there is no ceiling (recall the perceived limits), so I believe that, because Fletcher’s patterns would persist, their relationship would not be all rainbows and sunshine. A concern is that while Andrew has proven he is willing to put in the work to surpass his perceived limits, if he wants to slow down for a while, take a break, and dedicate time to other parts of his life, would Fletcher accept that? Would he think Andrew is now a Great so he no longer needs late night drumming sessions, or would he conclude that Andrew has settled, gotten soft, and in need of a reminder of what it takes to stay great?

A more optimistic take is that while power in the relationship may not be evenly distributed between the two going forward, there is now a shift to a more symbiotic relationship where Andrew does have some control, along with some support from Fletcher. This is supported by a subtle shift towards the end of Andrew’s “going rogue” moment. After walking out in embarrassment after Fletcher sets him up for failure, Andrew gets back on stage and starts drumming a piece he knows how to play, Caravan. He not only does a solo, but also gets the other band members involved, effectively taking control for a few minutes. Fletcher even fixes his cymbal! Not allowing an embarrassing and manipulative moment to end his drumming career a second time signifies both a newfound control over his own direction in life along with an increase in power in his relationship with Fletcher. The drumming part of the songs are no longer solely under Fletcher’s ownership and temporarily lent to Andrew; Andrew now owns the part and a part of the band.

I would hope that at some point Andrew pursues his career without Fletcher, but given that Andrew was kicked out of Shaffer, did not drum until he reconnected with Fletcher, and is on a high from his stellar performance in which he gained Fletcher’s respect, in the short term he will stick with Fletcher since he knows that door is open. I can also imagine a world where Andrew thinks about leaving but Fletcher begins to plant doubt in either his raw abilities (“you’re not as great as Buddy Rich yet”) or his ability to self-motivate (“do you really think you can continue improving this much without me? I made you!”), again surfacing concerns about Fletcher’s manipulative tactics.

Ultimately, it is up to the viewer’s level of optimism in believing that Fletcher finally respects Andrew and will not repeat his patterns which determines if you believe the ending is a happy one or not. My perspective is that the life of movie characters after the end credits is neither a happy ending nor a sad ending. Rather, it will be an extension of what happened in the movie, which is also true of real life; it is a journey that will always have trials and tribulations, failures that precede successes, skills to improve on, struggles of identity and motivation, and interpersonal relationships that challenge us in all of the above.