Whiplash (2014 film)

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Whiplash is a 2014 film about an occupied drum student and an abusive teaching conductor at a cutthroat music conservatory.

Directed and written by Damien Chazelle.

Terence Fletcher[edit]

  • We have a squeaker today, people. Neiman. 19 years old. Isn't he cute?
  • Alright take 10, when we get back the squeaker's ON...!!!
  • Parker, that is not your boyfriend's dick. Do not come early.
  • And here comes mister gay pride of the Upper West Side himself. Unfortunately, this is not a Bette Midler concert, we will not be serving Cosmopolitans and Baked Alaska, so just play faster than you give fucking hand jobs, will you please?
  • [after Andrew stops drumming] Is that all you have, you worthless Hymie fuck? No wonder mommy ran out on you.
  • Were you rushing or were you dragging? If you deliberately sabotage my band, I will fuck you like a pig. Oh my dear God - are you one of those single tear people? You are a worthless pansy-ass who is now weeping and slobbering all over my drumset like a nine year old girl!
  • Either you're deliberately out of tune and sabotaging my band, or you don't know you're out of tune, which, I'm afraid, is even worse.
  • For the record, Metz wasn't out of tune. You were, Erickson, but he didn't know and that's bad enough.
  • Nieman, you earned the part. Alternates, will you clean the blood off my drum set?
  • [Repeated line] Not quite my tempo.
  • The folder is your fucking responsibility, Tanner. Why would you give it to Neiman? Right? You give a calculator to a fucking retard he's gonna try to turn on a TV with it. Now get your sticks and get your ass on stage.
  • Everybody remember, Lincoln Center and its ilk use these competitions to decide who they are interested in and who they are not. And I am not gonna have my reputation in that department tarnished by a bunch of fucking limp-dick, sour-note, flatter-than-their-girlfriends, flexible-tempo dipshits. Got it? And if I EVER see another one of these lying around, I swear to fucking God, I will stop being so polite.
  • You think I'm fucking stupid? I know it was you.
  • Now, are you a rusher, or are you a dragger, or are you gonna be ON MY FUCKING TIME?!


Fletcher: Tell me it's not you, Elmer Fudd. [walks over to Metz] It's okay. Play.
[Metz plays a couple of notes; Fletcher stops him]
Fletcher: Do you think you're out of tune?
[Metz only stares at the floor]
Fletcher: What are you ... there's no fucking Mars bar down there. What are you looking at? Look up here, look at me. Do you think you're out of tune?
Metz: [after a long, hesitant pause] Yes.
Fletcher: [yelling] THEN WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU SAY SO?! [calmer tone] I've carried your fat ass for too long, Metz. I'm not gonna have you cost us a competition because your mind's on a fucking Happy Meal instead of on pitch. Jackson, congratulations. You're fourth chair. Metz, why are you still sitting there? Get the fuck out!

Fletcher: You are upset.
[Andrew nods yes]
Fletcher: Say it.
Andrew: I'm upset.
Fletcher: Say it so the whole band can hear you.
Andrew: [a little louder] I'm upset!
Fletcher: Louder!
Andrew: [loud] I'm upset!
Fletcher: LOUDER!
Andrew: [louder] I'M UPSET!
Fletcher: You are a worthless, friendless, faggot-lipped little piece of shit whose mommy left daddy when she figured out he wasn't Eugene O'Neill, and who is now weeping and slobbering all over my drum set like a fucking nine-year old girl! So for the final, FATHER-FUCKING time, SAY IT LOUDER!
Andrew: [at the top of his lungs] I'M UPSET!
Fletcher: [going back to compose the band] Start practicing harder, Nieman.

Uncle Frank: You got any friends, Andy?
Andrew: No.
Uncle Frank: Oh, why's that?
Andrew: I don't know, I just never really saw the use.
Uncle Frank: Well, who are you going to play with otherwise? Lennon and McCartney, they were school buddies, am I right?
Andrew: Charlie Parker didn't know anybody 'til Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head.
Uncle Frank: So that's your idea of success, huh?
Andrew: I think being the greatest musician of the 20th century is anybody's idea of success.
Jim: Dying broke and drunk and full of heroin at the age of 34 is not exactly my idea of success.
Andrew: I'd rather die drunk, broke at 34 and have people at a dinner table talk about me than live to be rich and sober at 90 and nobody remembered who I was.
Uncle Frank: Ah, but your friends will remember you, that's the point.
Andrew: None of us were friends with Charlie Parker. That's the point.
Uncle Frank: Travis and Dustin? They have plenty of friends and plenty of purpose.
Andrew: I'm sure they'll make great school board presidents someday.
Dustin: Oh, that's what this is all about? You think you're better than us?
Andrew: You catch on quick. Are you in Model UN?
Travis: I got a reply for you, Andrew. You think Carleton football's a joke? Come play with us.
Andrew: Four words you will never hear from the NFL.
Aunt Emma: Who wants dessert?

Fletcher: Nieman, you lost the fucking part.
Andrew: No, I didn't! You can't fucking do this to me!
Fletcher: CAN'T?
Andrew: Yeah!
Fletcher: When did you become a fucking expert on what I can or cannot do, you fucking weepy willow shitsack?
Andrew: I earned that part.
Fletcher: You never earned anything. God, you are a self-righteous prick. The only reason you are a core is because you misplaced a folder. 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! Am I wrong?
Andrew: Yeah, yeah. I'm in studio band because I'm the best player...
Ryan: [interrupts] Hey, why don't you just back off, bro?
Andrew: Hey, you know, fuck off, Johnny Utah! Turn my pages, bitch!
Fletcher: Hey, I can cut you any fucking time I want.
Andrew: You would've cut me by now.
Fletcher: Try me, you fucking weasel. At 5:30, that's in exactly 11 minutes, my band is on stage. If your ass is not on that stool with your own fucking sticks in hand or you make ONE FUCKING MISTAKE, ONE! I will drum your ass back to Nassau where you can turn pages until you graduate or fucking drop out! By the time you're done at Shaffer, you're gonna make Daddy look like a fucking success story. Got it? Or, we can let Johnny Utah play the part. You choose.
Andrew: It's my part, I'll be on your stage. [to Connelly] Fuck you. [Runs to get his sticks]
Fletcher: You got 10 minutes fucking pathetic pansy ass fruitfuck!

Andrew: I'm just gonna 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 and more of my time. And I'm not gonna be able to spend as much time with you. And when I do spend time with you, I'm gonna be thinking about drumming. And I'm gonna be thinking about jazz music, my charts, all that. And because of that, you're gonna start to resent me. And you're gonna tell me to ease up on the drumming, 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 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 get very... It's gonna be ugly. And so for those reasons, I'd rather just, you know, break it off clean... because I wanna be great.
Nicole: And you're not?
Andrew: I wanna be one of the greats.
Nicole: And I would stop you from doing that?
Andrew: Yeah.
Nicole: You know I would stop you from doing that. You know, for a fact?
Andrew: Yes.
Nicole: And I'd barely see you anyway?
Andrew: Yeah.
Nicole: And when I do see you, you'd treat me like shit because I'm just some girl who doesn't know what she wants. And you have a path, and you're gonna be great, and I'm going to be forgotten, and therefore you won't be able to give me the time of day because you have bigger things to pursue?
Andrew: That's exactly my point.
Nicole: What the fuck is wrong with you? You're right, we should not be dating.

Fletcher: Truth is, I don't think people understood what it was I was doing at Shaffer. I wasn't there to conduct. Any fucking moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is... an absolute necessity. Otherwise, we're depriving the world of the next Louis Armstrong. The next Charlie Parker. I told you about how Charlie Parker became Charlie Parker, right?
Andrew: Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head.
Fletcher: Exactly. Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax. Gets up to play at a cutting session, and he fucks it up. And Jones nearly decapitates him for it. And he's laughed off-stage. Cries himself to sleep that night, but the next morning, what does he do? He practices. And he practices and he practices with one goal in mind, never to be laughed at again. And a year later, he goes back to the Reno and he steps up on that stage, and plays the best motherfucking solo the world has ever heard. So imagine if Jones had just said: "Well, that's okay, Charlie. That was all right. Good job. "And then Charlie thinks to himself, "Well, shit, I did do a pretty good job." End of story. No Bird. That, to me, is an absolute tragedy. But that's just what the world wants now. People wonder why jazz is dying. I'll tell you, man - and every Starbucks "jazz" album just proves my point, really - there are no two words in the English language more harmful than "good job".
Andrew: [pause] But is there a line? You know, maybe you go too far, and you discourage the next Charlie Parker from ever becoming Charlie Parker?
Fletcher: No, man, no. Because the next Charlie Parker would never be discouraged.
Andrew: Yeah.
Fletcher: 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.


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