Rise of a Star, Death of a Soul: Damien Chazelle on “Whiplash” | Interviews
RogerEbert.com spoke with Chazelle about his own musical background, the debatable philosophies of Mr. Fletcher and whether he views the film as ultimately triumphant or tragic (caution: there are spoiler alerts aplenty).
What sort of impact did your experience drumming in a conservatory-style high school jazz orchestra have on your growth as a person and an artist?
Most of my experiences in the band were not pleasant. On the one hand, I was fraught with anxiety and pure dread every day because of it. I was so jealous of my friends, thinking, “You guys don’t know how easy your life is. You don’t have these rehearsals and this conductor who scares the s—t out of you breathing down your neck. You don’t know what a life of fear is.” I’m sure I overdramatized things in my head, but it certainly felt that way. At the same time, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I was so motivated by that fear. Getting this guy’s approval meant more to me than anything, and also, being a part of this rarified ensemble that was very hard to get into was just such a badge of honor. I guess it’s the same thing with sports teams in some ways. If you’re on the varsity team, the responsibilities are a lot bigger and there’s more stress, but you also walk around feeling probably like you can hold your head high. I’d hold my head really low in the rehearsal room because I’d feel like a terrified child, but outside of the rehearsal room, I knew that I was one of the few who could actually survive in there. It was kind of a give and take of pride and shame. [laughs] It motivated me to be a good drummer, so it worked for me, but it also posed the question of what would happen if you were to push that kind of behavior even further. What would you do if you had a teacher who was a true objective monster, not just someone who scares you personally or is tough on you and maybe borderline cruel? At what point do the ends not justify the means?
You ultimately leave it up to the audience to decide whether Andrew’s transformation is a triumph or a tragedy.
[Spoiler Alert] I like that you said that because that was certainly the hope. Sometimes I get worried that—no, worried is the wrong word, because if people enjoy the ending, then that’s great. But I had always thought, when writing the film, that the ending had always veered a little more on tragic than triumphant. In terms of a lot of responses to the movie, at least from what I’ve seen, the ending seems to be interpreted as a little more triumphant than tragic. Again, that’s not something that I’m upset about. If anything, it makes the movie more enjoyable for people, but it has been a really interesting thing to observe. I had always intended it to be a pretty dark ending.
It reminded me of “The Wrestler,” in that the final cut to black suggests that [someone] has died.
[Spoiler Alert] I love the ending of “The Wrestler.” [Mickey Rourke] steps out with “Sweet Child of Mine” blasting, and you get this triumphant feeling, but as in “Black Swan,” you know that he’s basically killing himself. In “The Wrestler,” you get the sense that he’s literally killing himself at that moment, at least that’s how I interpreted it—he has his heart attack and the cut to black is him dying, and “Black Swan” is similar too, where it ends with the death of the main character. It’s that “Red Shoes” idea of dancing until you die, playing drums until you die and literally giving your entire life to your art, resulting in your death. In this case, I don’t think Andrew physically dies, but I think a big part of his soul has definitely died.
