Whiplash

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

No. Stay.

What's your name?

Andrew Neiman, sir.

What year are you?

I'm first year.

- Do you know who I am? - Yes, sir.

So you know I'm looking for players.

Yes, sir.

Then why did you stop playing?

Did I ask you to start playing?

- Sorry, I-- - I asked why you stopped playing...

...and your answer was to turn into a wind-up monkey.

- Sorry, I thought-- - Show me your rudiments.

Yes, sir.

Double-time swing.

No, double-time. Double it.

Faster. Faster.

Oopsy-daisy.

Forgot my jacket.

- No Swedish Fish? - No, not today.

Thanks.

- You okay? - Yeah.

Yeah. Well, I don't know. He saw me play today.

And?

Well, you got plenty of options still.

- What does that mean? - Just...

- Other options? - Just, you know...

It's just life.

Listen, when you get to be my age, you get perspective.

I don't want perspective.

Sorry.

All right.

I don't want the Raisinets.

Why didn't you say that?

I just eat around them.

I don't understand you.

Bye. I'll see you later. Bye.

My man, Ry. Oh, shit.

How you feeling, man?

It's been too long. Been too long.

Things were hurting with Neiman on the kits.

Come on, man.

- What? - He's fine.

- If you say so. Good seeing you. - Yeah.

Yo, looking good.

- Hey. - What's up?

- Good weekend? - Yeah, real good.

- Yeah? - Yeah. Lot of fun.

Nice.

Hey, don't worry about Greg. Kid's a dick.

- No big deal. - Good morning, everybody.

Good morning, everybody.

- Good morning. - All right.

Let's do "Billy Zane" from the top, yes? Yes?

- How's that? Good? - Little right.

- One, two, three... - Okay.

Wait.

All right, let's do reeds, yeah?

- Three. - Yo, Ryan.

Watch it.

Yeah.

Accent, yeah...

- Not today. - Big on the bottom. Put some sugar on it.

You embarrass yourself like what's-his-face.

That was truly pathetic.

Short.

All right. All right.

That's enough of that. Just back to the core drums, please.

Core players, let's go.

Dude, what have you been practicing?

May I?

Cute.

Down the line. Trumpets, bars seven and eight.

Three, four.

Three, four.

Okay. All right.

Trombone, bar 24. The and of two.

Maybe not.

Tenor, let's start the pickup to 11.

Three, four.

Same spot. Three, four.

Okay. All right.

You're in the first chair. Let's see if it's because you're cute.

Three, four.

Yep. That's why.

Drums. Let's hear a little double-time swing.

Behind.

Same thing.

Bass, five bars of "Donna Lee."

All right.

Drums, with me.

Thank you, Joe.

No, no, no. Other drums.

Room B-16 tomorrow morning, 6:00 a.m. Don't be late.

All right, everybody, from the top.

A-one, two, three...

- Hey. - How are you?

- Good. How are you? - Good, thanks.

Good.

- The usual? You want, like--? - No.

Look, I don't really know how--

I see you in here a lot, and I think that you're really pretty and...

Would you wanna go out with me ever?

Please go away.

- Oh, God. - Get out.

- I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. - I'm just messing with you.

- I'm messing with you. - What? Oh, my God.

I'm sorry.

- That's actually pretty mean. - That should've-- I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

- What's your name? - It's okay. No big deal.

Oh, I'm Andrew.

- Andrew. - Yeah.

- I'm Nicole. - Nice to meet you, Nicole.

Nice to meet you too.

- So you wanna take me out. - I would love to take you out.

- Where do you wanna go? - Pizza.

- Pizza. - Yeah.

- I like pizza. - Yeah, I know this great pizza place.

Cool. Okay, well...

I get off at 7 on Monday.

- Okay. - You wanna meet here?

- Okay. Yeah. I will. - Yeah.

Great.

Okay. Seven o'clock?

- Here. - At 7 p.m.

- Monday. Andrew. - All right.

- Bye. - Bye.

It's not that bad. She's a go-go dancer. Could've did porn, she chose not to.

- That make it better? - Yeah, little bit.

- That's classier. - I can deal with that.

Bitch had a foot fetish or something.

- This is good. - You get on that?

That's it.

You are fucking kidding me.

- You the new alternate? - Yeah. I'm Andrew Neiman.

Tune the set to B-flat, then turn my pages.

Sure.

Excuse me. Could I get a B-flat?

Thank you.

Sorry. Can you--? Just one more time?

That's a great kit.

I play the new cymbals now.

Milk the cunt!

We got a squeaker today, people. Neiman.

Nineteen years old. Isn't he cute?

All right, gang, "Whiplash."

Page. Page!

Barker, that is not your boytriend's dick. Do not come early.

Bar 93.

Five, six, and...

Stop.

Now, this one really upsets me. We have an out-of-tune player here.

Before I continue, would that player care to identify himself?

No?

Okay, maybe a bug flew in my ear.

One-fifteen.

Five, six, and...

No. My ears are fine.

We definitely have an out-of-tune player.

Whoever it is, this is your last chance.

And there it went.

Now, either you are deliberately playing out of tune...

...and sabotaging my band...

...or you don't know you're out of tune...

...which I'm afraid is even worse.

Reeds.

Five, six, and...

Bones.

Five, six, and...

He's here.

Tell me it's not you, Elmer Fudd.

It's okay. Play.

Do you think you're out of tune?

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?

Yes.

Then why the fuck didn't you say so?

I've carried your fat ass for too long.

I won't have you cost us a competition...

...because your mind's on a Happy Meal instead of on pitch.

Jackson, congratulations, you're fourth chair.

Metz, why are you still sitting there? Get the fuck out!

For the record, Metz wasn't out of tune. You were, Erickson.

But he didn't know...

...and that's bad enough.

All right, take 10. When we get back, the squeaker's on.

Two, two, three. Two, two, three.

If he put half the effort into playing the trombone...

Andrew.

- Parents musicians? - No.

- What do they do? - My dad's a writer.

What's he written?

I guess he's more of a teacher, really.

- College? - Pennington High School.

- Your mother, what does she do? - I don't know. She left when I was a baby.

No musicians in the family?

You just gotta listen to the greats, then.