Back in 2014 I declared this the best film of that year. There hasn’t been anything to change my mind since, and after watching it again on the big screen, I might easily think it’s the best film not only of that year but of the last 10 years. At its core is the most confounding character you were likely to see on screen. Terence Fletcher is simultaneously a monster and an icon that we might admire. His demand for excellence is truly admirable but his means of achieving it are horrific.

Those of you not familiar with the story, let me briefly explain that it involves a student at the most prestigious musical Institution in the country, pursuing excellence in his instrument. Miles Teller plays the striving young man, and he encounters a teacher that pushes him to reach the excellence that he aspires to. All is not well however, because the path to excellence according to both of these people involves sacrificing the human decency that the rest of us take for granted.

JK Simmons won the Academy Award for supporting actor for this year, in what is probably the most deserved bestowing of the award in the last 20 years. His portrayal of Fletcher, as a precision driven taskmaster, is incredibly absorbing. At times he wears the mask of civility, and seems to genuinely be invested in the music culture. Yet when he stands up to his lectern to take over directing his musical ensemble, he’s the personification of the most controlling, ill-tempered, unpleasant boss that anyone has ever had. The drill sergeant in “Full Metal Jacket” could take a few lessons from Terrance Fletcher in breaking down a young protege.

Writer/director Damien Chazelle, creates a story that crackles like a thriller, in spite of the fact that it has all of the accoutrements of a classroom drama. There is tension in 80% of the film that Fletcher appears on screen, and in about 50% of the time that he is not there. Aspiring Jazz drummer Andrew Neiman, is incredibly talented, but don’t tell him that, because that would lead him to be satisfied with mediocrity. The recurring story about Charlie Parker having a cymbal thrown at his head, becomes the blueprint for how Fletcher is trying to teach his students. “Good job”, is a filthy phrase in his vocabulary. “Not my tempo”, is the cattle prod that he uses on Teller’s Niemann.

Both these personalities have something wrong with them. They both are addicted to the concept that suffering beyond human capacity both by yourself and by others , is the only way to achieve greatness. Neither of them has the kind of humility that will allow for a satisfying social life. And in the end, the film actually seems to be endorsing the terrorist method of instruction that Fletcher inflicts and Neiman endures. I’m sure there are plenty of successful artists, who have struggled to overcome adversity and achieve great things, without becoming insufferable a-holes. The problem is, their stories are never going to be as compelling as this one is.