Movie HighLow

Movie HighLow

Movie HighLow is a film podcast about the best—and worst—that cinema has to offer. Each episode, we go either HIGH or LOW and break down exactly what works, what doesn’t, and what went completely off the rails. Some movies are great. Some are terrible. Some are both. From iconic classics to fascinating disasters, we’re here to figure out why. Film analysis • Movie breakdowns • Movie reviews • High vs Low • Film podcast

  1. WHIPLASH (2014) | In Spite Of Fletcher? Or, Because Of Him? (High)

    1d ago

    WHIPLASH (2014) | In Spite Of Fletcher? Or, Because Of Him? (High)

    On this week's Movie HighLow, we go High on Whiplash because it is one of the rare movies about greatness that does not let greatness off the hook. It looks like an inspirational story about a young jazz drummer pushing past his limits, but the more we talk about it, the darker it gets. Whiplash (2014) is not just asking whether Andrew Neiman becomes great. It is asking what he has to cut out of himself to get there. That is the real question of the episode: does Andrew become great in spite of Fletcher, or because of him? And the uncomfortable answer we keep circling is that it might be because of him. That does not make Fletcher right. It does not make his abuse noble. But it does make Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash a much more complicated movie than a simple mentor-from-hell story. This is a movie about ambition, control, humiliation, obsession, and the cost of becoming the person you think you’re supposed to be. Main Discussion In this episode, we dig into Whiplash, written and directed by Damien Chazelle, and why it still hits like a snare drum to the face. The movie stars Miles Teller as Andrew Neiman, a young jazz drummer at the fictional Shaffer Conservatory, and J.K. Simmons as Terence Fletcher, the terrifying conductor who treats music education like psychological warfare. The movie won Oscars for Simmons, editing, and sound mixing, and honestly, all three wins make perfect sense. This thing is built like a pressure cooker. The central debate is Andrew’s transformation. By the time we get to the final performance at Carnegie Hall, Andrew does become something different. He takes control of the stage, pushes past Fletcher’s sabotage, and turns “Caravan” into a declaration of war. But we also talk about how even in that moment of victory, he still hands control back to Fletcher. That final exchange of looks between them is thrilling, but it is not cleanly triumphant. Andrew gets Fletcher’s approval, and that might be exactly the problem. We spend a lot of time on Fletcher because J.K. Simmons gives one of those performances that feels almost unfair to everyone else in the movie. He is part jazz instructor, part drill sergeant, part horror villain. The “not my tempo” scene is the obvious centerpiece, but what makes Fletcher so scary is not just that he screams. It is that he knows exactly when to lower his voice, when to charm, when to humiliate, and when to make an entire room afraid to breathe wrong. He does not simply teach through fear. He builds a world where fear is the tempo. The episode also gets into Fletcher’s philosophy, especially the idea that there are “no two words in the English language more harmful than good job.” We do not dismiss that line outright, which is part of what makes the conversation interesting. There is something seductive about Fletcher’s argument. Maybe comfort does kill greatness. Maybe some people only reach their full potential when someone refuses to let them settle. But the movie also gives us Sean Casey, the former student whose story reveals the human wreckage behind Fletcher’s method. For every Andrew who might become Bird, there may be someone else who gets destroyed. Miles Teller’s performance as Andrew is another major High. He has to start the movie with this open, almost boyish hunger and then slowly harden into someone who has internalized Fletcher’s cruelty. We talk about the family dinner scene as one of the clearest examples of that shift. Andrew is patronized by relatives who do not understand what he is chasing, and he finally snaps back with the kind of contempt Fletcher has been teaching him. The “Lincoln Center” gut check from his father is brutal because it cuts through Andrew’s self-mythology for just a second. That father-son relationship, with Paul Reiser as Andrew’s dad, becomes one of the most emotional parts of the discussion. His father is not trying to crush him. He is trying to keep him human. The movie theater scene with the Raisinets is small, but it says so much about Andrew’s willingness to tolerate discomfort, to eat around the thing he does not want, to subtract pieces from his life if that is what the goal requires. By the final performance, watching Andrew through his father’s eyes changes the scene. From inside the music, it feels like triumph. From the hallway, through his dad’s face, it looks like losing him. We also talk about Nicole, played by Melissa Benoist, and why that relationship matters more than it first appears. Andrew’s breakup with her is not just a young guy being arrogant. It is the movie showing us that he has already accepted self-erasure as the price of greatness. Later, when he calls her before the Carnegie Hall performance and realizes she has moved on, the scene lands because it shows what he chose. He wanted greatness so badly that he made himself unavailable to ordinary happiness. Key Debates & Takeaways The biggest question we wrestle with is whether Whiplash is an inspirational movie or a horror movie wearing the skin of one. We both come down on the idea that Fletcher is probably the reason Andrew reaches that final level, but that does not mean Fletcher is justified. That is the uncomfortable brilliance of the movie. It refuses to make the moral math easy. We also get into the missing chart scene near the end and whether Fletcher sabotaged Carl, whether Andrew panicked, or whether it was all just another test. The movie leaves just enough room for doubt, which keeps the tension alive. Our one real Low is more of a nitpick: what exactly was Fletcher’s plan if Andrew did not come back onstage? The finale is incredible, but the logic of Fletcher’s revenge depends on Andrew reacting in the most insane, perfect way possible. Still, that final scene is why Whiplash remains such a monster. The editing, music, cinematography, sound, and performances all lock together. It is exhilarating and upsetting at the same time. Andrew may become great, but we are not convinced he is okay. If anything, the ending feels less like happily ever after and more like the beginning of a very lonely life played at double time. Topics Discussed Whiplash 2014 review Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash Miles Teller as Andrew Neiman J.K. Simmons as Terence Fletcher Terence Fletcher abuse and teaching methods Andrew Neiman ambition and obsession Whiplash ending explained In spite of Fletcher or because of Fletcher “Not my tempo” scene “Were you rushing or dragging?” “There are no two words more harmful than good job” Whiplash final performance Caravan at Carnegie Hall Andrew and Fletcher final scene Paul Reiser as Andrew’s father Whiplash family dinner scene Nicole and Andrew breakup Whiplash missing chart scene Jazz, perfectionism, and self-destruction Whiplash as a horror movie about greatness 🎧 Listen & Subscribe: Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/movie-highlow/id1494972813 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/5F6GMoqeJcahbZtk592a9a 📲 Follow Movie HighLow: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/moviehighlow

    39 min
  2. THE HAPPENING (2008) | Be Scientific, Douchebag (Low)

    Jun 12

    THE HAPPENING (2008) | Be Scientific, Douchebag (Low)

    The Happening is a bad movie with a genuinely good idea trapped inside it, which might be the most frustrating kind of bad movie. On paper, M. Night Shyamalan making an R-rated eco-horror film about nature turning against humanity should at least be creepy. The planet mounting a defense against us? Plants communicating through airborne neurotoxins? Mass panic spreading through the Northeast? There is a real movie in there somewhere. But The Happening (2008) keeps finding the least frightening version of every possible choice. Wind blows through trees. Grass sways. People stare blankly. Mark Wahlberg says science words like a man who has never been inside a classroom voluntarily. And somehow, a movie built around mass suicide, environmental collapse, and social breakdown becomes funny in ways it absolutely does not seem to understand. That is why this episode goes Low. Not because the concept is worthless, but because the execution is so bizarre that the movie becomes less of a thriller and more of an accidental comedy about hot dogs, lawnmowers, lemon drinks, and the least convincing science teacher in film history. Main Discussion In this episode, we try to answer the obvious question: is The Happening still terrible, or has time been kinder to it? After rewatching it, the answer is that it is still terrible, but in a way that is almost impossible to look away from. This is not some forgettable bad movie where nothing happens. Too much happens. People jump off buildings, feed themselves to lions, lie down in front of lawnmowers, and deliver lines like they are speaking a language recently invented by aliens. We spend a lot of time talking about where The Happening sits in M. Night Shyamalan’s career. This is not a lazy “Shyamalan was never good” conversation. He had already made The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs, and The Village, so we know he understands suspense, dread, silence, and atmosphere. That is part of what makes this movie so confusing. He takes a concept that could work and then builds it around one of the least cinematic villains possible: the wind. And that becomes one of our biggest problems with the movie. Wind, trees, and grass are not automatically scary just because the score says they are. You can only cut to ominous leaves so many times before the threat starts to feel like aggressive landscaping. Because the plants themselves cannot do much visually, the movie leans on the suicide imagery, and the best version of that comes right at the beginning. The construction worker scene is probably the movie’s strongest sequence. It is eerie, simple, and genuinely upsetting. Bodies falling one after another from a building is an image that actually works. But after that, the movie keeps trying to escalate, and the deaths start getting more ridiculous than horrifying. The lion scene. The lawnmower scene. The shotgun house. The movie clearly wants these moments to be shocking, but they often play like slapstick with blood. We also get into the whole neurotoxin explanation, which sounds science-adjacent until you think about it for more than five seconds. If the toxin shuts off self-preservation, does it also shut off pain? Reflexes? Panic? The basic human instinct to move when something horrible is happening to your body? The movie wants the rules to sound scientific, but every new death makes the logic feel shakier. Then there is Mark Wahlberg as Elliot Moore, one of the strangest pieces of casting in modern studio horror. We talk a lot about how hard it is to buy him as a gentle, thoughtful science teacher. It is not just that he feels miscast. It is that every line seems to become more awkward once he says it. “Be scientific, douchebag” basically becomes the thesis statement for the whole performance. Zooey Deschanel as Alma has her own problems too. While she is not inherently a bad actress, this movie gives her almost nothing that works. Her relationship drama with Elliot is supposed to give the story emotional weight, but it mostly feels like filler. The whole marriage subplot, the guy calling her, the tiramisu betrayal, the tension between them, none of it feels urgent or real. John Leguizamo’s Julian basically has to explain their marriage problems to us because the movie cannot make us feel them. We also talk about Julian handing off his daughter Jess, including the very weird “don’t take my daughter’s hand unless you mean it” moment. In theory, it should be emotional. In practice, it feels like one more example of characters saying things no human being would say in that exact situation. And then there is the hot dog guy. Wow. Somehow, he is the first character to seriously suggest that plants might be behind everything, but he also cannot stop talking about how hot dogs have a cool shape and protein. That is The Happening in one scene: useful exposition wrapped in total nonsense. Key Debates & Takeaways One of the biggest questions we keep coming back to is whether The Happening is secretly supposed to be a B movie. Shyamalan has talked about it that way, and though that explanation is tempting, we do not fully buy it. If it is supposed to be funny, the movie is too stiff. If it is supposed to be scary, it is too funny. The tone never settles, and that is what makes the whole thing so strange. That said, we do find a few highs. The premise is strong. The opening scene works. And the Mrs. Jones section near the end is probably the closest the movie gets to matching its own weird energy. By the time we get to “you eyeing my lemon drink?” the movie has become so bizarre that the creepy old lady sequence almost feels right. It is awkward, uncomfortable, funny, and unsettling in a way the rest of the movie keeps trying and failing to be. The ending is another major discussion point. Elliot and Alma walk into the wind, the threat just stops, the news explains the movie, Alma is pregnant, and then the Happening starts again in Paris. It is abrupt, convenient, and weirdly underwhelming. We even end up workshopping a better explanation than the movie gives us, which is never a great sign. By the end, The Happening is not just a bad environmental horror movie. It is a movie full of interesting ideas, terrible dialogue, miscast leads, accidental comedy, and moments so strange they deserve to be preserved. It fails, but at least it fails memorably. Topics Discussed The Happening 2008 review M. Night Shyamalan’s first R-rated movie Mark Wahlberg as Elliot Moore Zooey Deschanel as Alma Moore John Leguizamo as Julian The Happening killer plant theory Airborne neurotoxins in The Happening Environmental horror movies Why The Happening is unintentionally funny “Be scientific, douchebag” scene The Happening construction worker opening The Happening lawnmower scene The zookeeper lion death scene The shotgun house scene Hot dog guy plant explanation Mrs. Jones lemon drink scene “You eyeing my lemon drink?” The Happening ending explained The Paris ending in The Happening M. Night Shyamalan career low points 🎧 Listen & Subscribe: Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/movie-highlow/id1494972813 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/5F6GMoqeJcahbZtk592a9a 📲 Follow Movie HighLow: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/moviehighlow

    34 min
  3. TAXI DRIVER (1976) | Martin Scorsese’s Most Disturbing Masterpiece (High)

    Jun 5

    TAXI DRIVER (1976) | Martin Scorsese’s Most Disturbing Masterpiece (High)

    Taxi Driver is not great because Travis Bickle is cool, misunderstood, or secretly right. It is great because Martin Scorsese, Paul Schrader, Robert De Niro, and Bernard Herrmann drag us close enough to understand him without ever letting us feel safe around him. That is the central tension of this Movie HighLow episode: Taxi Driver (1976) still feels disturbingly alive because the movie understands loneliness before it becomes ideology, isolation before it becomes violence, and fantasy before it becomes a headline. Fifty years later, Scorsese’s film still has a pulse because it does not flatter the audience. It asks us to sit in Travis’s cab, hear his thoughts, absorb his disgust, watch him mistake obsession for purpose, and then deal with the fact that the world might reward him anyway. That is why this one goes High. Not because it is easy to watch, but because it gets harder to shake every time you revisit it. Main Discussion This episode digs into Taxi Driver as one of those movies that may not fully hit the first time you see it. The argument here is that good movies provide answers, but great movies ask questions, and Taxi Driver is nothing but questions. What does Travis Bickle actually want? Is he trying to save anyone, or just looking for somewhere to aim all that rage? Is the ending real, fantasy, afterlife, media mythmaking, or some nightmare combination of all of it? A huge part of the conversation centers on how Paul Schrader’s script builds Travis through voiceover without using it as a shortcut. The journal entries are not just exposition. They are a trapdoor into Travis’s head. Lines like “my life needed a sense of someplace to go” become the key to the whole character. Travis is not tethered to anything. He has no politics, no real relationships, no taste, no emotional vocabulary, and no understanding of how to live among other people. So when Betsy, played by Cybill Shepherd, appears to him as an angel in the filth, he turns her into a symbol before he ever sees her as a person. That failed date with Betsy gets a lot of attention here because it is one of the most tragic and uncomfortable scenes in the movie. Travis has the right impulse at first. He works up the courage to speak to her, asks her out, and somehow gets further than he has any right to get. But then he takes her to a porn theater because that is the only version of “the movies” he knows. The episode’s take is that this is what makes Travis so disturbing and sad at the same time. He is not trying to offend her. He simply has no idea how warped his own normal is. The discussion also spends time on the movie’s split structure: the first half built around Travis’s fixation on Betsy, the second around his fixation on Iris, played by Jodie Foster. Foster’s performance is described as especially upsetting because she is both performing adulthood and visibly still a child. The diner scene, where Iris behaves like a kid while trying to act like someone much older, becomes one of the clearest examples of how finely tuned the film’s supporting performances are. And then there is Harvey Keitel as Sport, a character who is charismatic for about half a second before the horror of what he represents takes over. The episode points out how strange and important the scene between Sport and Iris is because it is the one major moment that steps outside Travis’s direct point of view. In a movie so locked into Travis’s head, that break matters. The biggest High, though, is Scorsese’s direction. The episode keeps coming back to how subjective the filmmaking is: the Alka-Seltzer fizzing like pressure in Travis’s skull, the cab being washed by fire hydrant water like some failed baptism, the camera drifting away from Travis during his painful phone call because even the movie can barely stand to watch him. Taxi Driver is not just about a man losing his grip. It is shot like the grip is already gone. Bernard Herrmann’s score also gets singled out as essential. It moves between smoky noir romance and pure psychological dread, almost like it is scoring two versions of Travis at once: the lonely guy who thinks he is in an old detective story, and the unstable man who might turn any street corner into a horror movie. Key Debates & Takeaways The biggest debate in the episode is the ending. One read is that Travis survives the shootout, gets turned into a hero by newspapers and public narrative, and returns to the cab still dangerous, still unresolved, still waiting for the next demon in the rearview mirror. The other read is that everything after the shootout has the quality of wish fulfillment: Betsy back in the cab, Travis admired, the world finally seeing him the way he sees himself. The episode does not flatten that ambiguity. It leans into it. The rearview mirror sting is treated as the perfect final note because it suggests that whatever Travis experienced, he has not been cured, redeemed, or understood. He has only been rebranded. Even the one Low is complicated: the desaturated shootout. Scorsese had to mute the blood to avoid an X rating, and while that compromise is frustrating, the episode admits the washed-out, pinkish, grimy look may accidentally make the scene feel even more nightmarish. That is the kind of conversation this episode has with Taxi Driver: not just “great movie,” but why the damage, compromises, contradictions, and unresolved questions are part of what make it one of Scorsese’s most disturbing masterpieces. Topics Discussed Taxi Driver 1976 review Martin Scorsese’s direction in Taxi Driver Paul Schrader’s Taxi Driver screenplay Robert De Niro as Travis Bickle Travis Bickle loneliness and male isolation Taxi Driver and the incel reading Bernard Herrmann’s Taxi Driver score Betsy and Travis’s failed date Cybill Shepherd as Betsy Jodie Foster as Iris Harvey Keitel as Sport Albert Brooks in Taxi Driver Peter Boyle as Wizard Scorsese’s Taxi Driver cameo “You talkin’ to me?” mirror scene Taxi Driver ending explained Rearview mirror final shot Taxi Driver shootout and X rating New York City decay in 1970s cinema Is Taxi Driver Scorsese’s best movie? Previous listeners: we know it’s been a while. One of these days we’re gonna get organ-iz-ized. 🎧 Listen & Subscribe: Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/movie-highlow/id1494972813 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/5F6GMoqeJcahbZtk592a9a 📲 Follow Movie HighLow: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/moviehighlow

    36 min

Ratings & Reviews

5
out of 5
3 Ratings

About

Movie HighLow is a film podcast about the best—and worst—that cinema has to offer. Each episode, we go either HIGH or LOW and break down exactly what works, what doesn’t, and what went completely off the rails. Some movies are great. Some are terrible. Some are both. From iconic classics to fascinating disasters, we’re here to figure out why. Film analysis • Movie breakdowns • Movie reviews • High vs Low • Film podcast