Whiplash (a movie review post)

This is the kind of movie that might mean something if it was based on something that actually happened but, as it is, it's almost meaningless. Which is not to say that the message -- greatness comes from adversity -- isn't true, but making up a story to prove your premise doesn't prove anything. I mean, I could make up a story to "prove" that eating spinach gives you massive forearms, but it doesn't mean anything without something real or true to back it up. So, you know, great: A fictional kid becomes a great drummer because a fictional band director is a supreme asshole to him.

And I'm not trying to knock the impact of a fictional story, but it usually helps if your protagonist isn't also an asshole if you want the story to be "inspirational." It also helps when the crisis moment is at least remotely believable. So let's walk through that. Yes, there will be spoilers.

Andrew has worked his ass off to get the drum part for a significant competition. He is by far the best player, but the director, Fletcher, is threatening to give the part to someone else in order to get Andrew to be even better. So far so good.

On the way to the performance, the bus Andrew has taken gets a flat tire which makes him late. This is awfully convenient (read: contrived), but it does happen. I suppose it does, anyway. In all my years of riding school buses (similar in most respects to paid public transportation), we never once had a flat tire. I did have a couple of buses break down, though, so I'll concede the possibility, We're still okay.

Andrew, in an effort to make the performance on time, runs to a conveniently located (convenient in that he could get to it on foot) car rental place. Okay, so I have a bit more of an issue with this. In my experience, car rental places aren't just scattered around randomly like gas stations. We're beginning to stretch things, but I'll still go along.

Andrew leaves his (drum) stick case at the rental agency.
Really?

Andrew gets to the place where they are performing. He's past call time, but he's in time to play for the performance. Fletcher is pissed that Andrew's later and threatens to give the part to another of the drummers. They have an argument, but Fletcher, evidently, agrees to let Andrew play... except that Andrew doesn't have his sticks, and Fletcher refuses to let him borrow some from one of the other students. He may play if he can be back with his sticks in five minutes.

Okay, I have a really difficult time accepting this bit. Fletcher wants to win the competition. He is completely about winning. Andrew is by far his best drummer (probably his best musician), but he's going to let someone else play instead? It just doesn't fit with Fletcher's personality. He would wait until after the performance to punish Andrew for his tardiness rather than risk losing the competition.

At any rate, Andrew dashes back to the car, speeds back to the rental place, grabs his bag, and speeds back... and he has a car accident. A bad one. The car rolls several times and stops upside down. Yet, Andrew crawls from the wreckage, covered in blood, and runs, sort of, the last few blocks to where they are performing. And I'll give them that. As unlikely as it is, sometimes people do do extraordinary things. However, it completely falls apart after that...

Andrew is bleeding from his head, blood is dripping off of one hand, and his clothes are ripped and shredded. In short, he looks like he was just in a car accident. He makes it all the way through the building without anyone stopping him. He makes it onto the stage without anyone stopping him...
Wait a minute. His band is already on stage, evidently, just waiting for him. During a competition, the band is sitting there with no one at the drums just waiting for... him.
1. Um, we're supposed to assume that the judges are just waiting patiently for some indefinite amount of time for the late drummer to show up. The drummer who ran out of time before he even made it back to the car rental agency.
2. We're supposed to assume that Fletcher did not put in one of the reserve drummers he had on hand. One of them was good. Not as good as Andrew, but he was good. That we're supposed to believe this of Fletcher, that he is just waiting for Andrew, is even more unbelievable than that the judges are waiting for Andrew.
3. When Andrew walks onto the stage, covered in blood, no one interferes. He just goes and sits down at the drums and starts playing. No one -- NO ONE! -- is like, "Dude! You're covered in blood! What happened? What are you doing?" Not any of his bandmates, not Fletcher, not any of the judges or any of the people watching. Um, I'm sorry... That's insane that we're expected to believe that he just walks out onto the stage in that condition and no one stops the proceedings to see what's going on.
4. Andrew isn't able to keep up; he's dripping blood all over the drums; he drops one of the sticks and has trouble retrieving it. Finally Fletcher does something. He comes over and orders Andrew off the stage. Not nicely. I don't care how big of an asshole you are; if your best drummer is bleeding out on stage, you have more concern than to come over and yell him off the stage.
5. Andrew loses it, about the only thing in this sequence that makes any sense, and attacks Fletcher right there on the stage in front of everyone. And gets expelled for it. What? Seriously? We're expected to believe that a kid who was just in a car accident, bleeding from a head wound, and was just screamed at by his director during a performance got kicked out of school for losing control?

Basically, this whole sequence dance along the Cliff of Belief like a blind man, almost falling, almost falling, almost falling until, finally, falling right down into the Sea of Disbelief far below. Nothing that comes after this really works, including the scene where they are convincing Andrew to testify (for lack of a better word) against Fletcher about his abusive ways. So they know they way Fletcher treated people and they still expelled Andrew? Riiight...

So, yeah... I really couldn't buy into the movie. I get that music is competitive and can be harsh, but, honestly, Damien Chazelle has admitted to basing Fletcher on one of his band directors, so the whole thing comes of as sort of a bitter, "You wrecked my life," kind of thing. I don't feel bad for him, nor did I fee bad for Andrew. Andrew was an arrogant asshole. And, well, if the point of the movie is that you only become great through adversity, then we see that Chazelle gave up and walked away from music. As the movie points out, if you become discouraged enough to abandon the thing you love, you were never meant to be great, anyway, so Chazelle needs to just get over it.

Oh, and the recurring story about Charlie Parker (an actual jazz player) isn't accurate. Chazelle re-wrote that to fit his movie.

All of that said, J. K. Simmons is fantastic as Fletcher. He is the kind of villain that you hate and respect at the same time. Then hate some more. The best supporting actor nomination for him is well-deserved.

Miles Teller is also pretty good. Not great, but he was good. And good at not being likable. Even when wanting him to succeed, you also wanted him to fail. Basically, it's a movie of not likable characters. The only two people in the movie who are decent human beings are Andrew's father and Andrew's (short-lived) girlfriend.

It's not a movie I would recommend to, well, anyone, and it doesn't belong on the best picture nomination list. It's more deserving than The Theory of Everything, but that's not saying much.

An Acceptable Time (a book review post)

Imagine for just a moment that you're the parent of a teenage girl, a very smart teenage girl who is not getting the kind of education she needs at her high school. You decide to send your daughter off to spend some time studying with your parents who happen to be genius scientists. Now... Imagine a boy, a boy you don't know from Adam, shows up at your house wanting to see your daughter. A boy, a college boy, mind you, who says he has just driven from one coast to the other for the sole purpose of seeing your daughter. Your teenage daughter who is in high school. How do you respond?

Let me tell you how you don't respond. You don't tell the boy where your daughter is and give him directions to get there without consulting your parents or your daughter. You do not NOT check to see if your daughter even knows this boy. You do not assume the boy is telling the truth that he met her when she was on a school trip to Greece as she was passing through Athens on the way to her actual destination. And, actually, we don't even know if the boy, Zachary Gray, told Polly's parents any of that. All we know is that he showed up at her grandparents' house without any kind of verification or warning that he was coming after being sent ahead by Polly's parents.

Now, imagine for just a moment that you have a teenage granddaughter who is staying with you. A boy shows up at your house who says he was sent there by your daughter and that he knows your granddaughter and would like to see her. Do you tell him where in the woods she is likely to end up from the walk she is on and send him out to wait for her? Do you not call your daughter to verify this boy's story? Of course, if you were to call your daughter (although you would find that, yes, she did send him there) you would find she has no idea from Adam who he is.

I have an almost teenage daughter and this whole scenario in An Acceptable Time deeply disturbed me. That no one bothered to verify with Polly that she knew this boy was completely insane. I don't know; maybe there are people out there who are that naive (other than L'Engle, I mean), but I've never known any of them. It was not a circumstance I could accept as even being remotely realistic, so the book plunged off the Cliff of Belief and Acceptance almost before the first chapter even got going. Then, it got bashed around on the rocks down below as I made my way through the book, before finally drowning and sinking to bottom of the Sea of Disbelief.

So Polly has this time slippage event where she's out on a walk and ends up a few thousand years in the past. She's only there for a few pages in the book before she ends up back in her own time. She tells her grandparents about it which results in more than half of the book dealing with conversations over food about how they don't believe that it happened. This might be okay except that her grandfather has been to other planets and experienced time travel. There is no rational, acceptable reason for her grandparents to spend so long clinging to the belief that she imagined it and that if they just pretend nothing happened then nothing else will happen. And they spend 200 pages doing that. The same conversation over and over about how they don't believe it.

Still, that's not even the most annoying thing about the book. Evidently, for all of L'Engle's "science" in this series, she was one of those people who believe that the Earth is only 5000 years old. Polly (supposedly) has gone 3000 years into the past, and she keeps noticing how young the mountains look. How tall and jagged and un-eroded, because in her own time those mountains have been worn down (by just the wind and rain, mind you) into hills. Maybe L'Engle missed that part of geology where you learn that that kind of erosion takes hundreds of millions of years... well, to actually get down to the point where a mountain has been eroded from a mountain to something that is just a hill would probably take billions of years at least. And L'Engle mentions the ice age and talks a lot about glacial rocks, but it's really unclear when this age she talks about is supposed to have happened.

Basically, L'Engle mixes in just enough science talk to fool kids into believe her books know something about science but, at best, her mumbo jumbo is pseudoscience and, at worst, it's all a part of her "all you need is love" philosophy, which, again, is what saves the day at the end of this book. Not anything the protagonist does because, mostly, what she does is hangs out waiting to be sacrificed and hoping someone will save her. In fact, the only action Polly takes to get herself out of the mess she is in, she undoes. On purpose! And, then, goes back to waiting to be rescued.

And I haven't even talked about the part when the young man she's infatuated with says right in front of her that he intends to sacrifice her so that the Mother will send rain and, instead of being freaked out and trying to get away from him, she starts trying to convince herself that he would really never do that. I'm sorry, but that's messed up and a horrible message to send to young girls.

My final analysis is that this series is, well, horrible. I would never recommend them to anyone and am sorry that I ever did. I'm glad that I re-read Wrinkle and went on to read the rest just so that I will no longer recommend anything by L'Engle to any of my students. And, while I can understand a liking for Wrinkle, I honestly don't understand how anyone can like Many Waters or An Acceptable Time. I can barely make allowances for A Wind in the Door and A Swiftly Tilting Planet and that's only because she uses the same characters as from Wrinkle and there's a flying horse.