By Rory Appleton

“Whiplash” is a monster.

Damien Chazelle’s electric ode to strict music schools everywhere is impossible to boil down to one or two sentences, but it is best described as a teacher and his pupil’s painful grind towards excellence. They struggle between what should be given and what should be taken in the relationship, and that conflict thrusts “Whiplash” squarely into the running for best movie of the decade.

The film’s critical acclaim prompted distributor Sony Pictures Classics to re-release “Whiplash” in select theaters on Friday, even though the DVD and Blu-ray versions will hit shelves on Feb. 24. I attended one of the three daily showings at Regal Manchester Stadium 16 in Fresno and was absolutely blown away by what I saw.

J.K. Simmons’ Oscar-nominated and Golden Globe-winning portrayal of Terrence Fletcher, a violent and autocratic instructor at the top music school in the country, is a career-defining performance. Simmons, perhaps best known as the father in “Juno” or the recent Farmers Insurance commercial guy, sheds the chains of character acting and commands our attention during Fletcher’s demonic tirades in his domain: the band room at a fictional Juilliard.

Miles Teller is brilliant as Andrew Neimann, a 19-year-old virtuoso jazz drummer that quickly grabs Fletcher’s attention — and his ire — at the college. Apart from his immense skill, Neimann is a typical teenager struggling to find his place in a new environment. Scenes of his awkward social life don’t feel forced into the jazz-centric film.

Instead, they break up the intense band scenes and add a human quality to the robotic perfectionist who spends much of the film bleeding on his drum kit during his grueling practice sessions.

The tension between Neimann and Fletcher fuels the film. The other characters are completely arbitrary. They could have been portrayed by goats and “Whiplash” still would not miss a 5/4 drum beat. In private, Fletcher appears to be a nurturing father figure to Neimann.

In public, the instructor mercilessly ridicules his pupil using sensitive personal information shared in those private moments.

In one powerful scene, Fletcher rhythmically slaps Neimann as a way of illustrating how the teenager wasn’t on the proper beat.

“Whiplash” would still be a great film if it was about a brick-layer and his apprentice. The story and characters are that strong. The musician-conductor relationship adds sonic and artistic elements to the drama, but Neimann’s trek through peaks and valleys while transitioning from a snot-nosed genius to an adjusted adult is a relatable journey for all — regardless of their aspirations.

It’s fitting that “Whiplash” will battle against multimillion-dollar historical epics and star-studded dramas in five Academy Award categories for the 87th Academy Awards. The 2014 Sundance darling serves as a fresh reminder to Hollywood that a superb script starring underappreciated actors can overcome a modest budget to reach the pinnacle of filmmaking.

I doubt “Whiplash” has the buzz and pedigree to beat out favorites “American Sniper,” “Boyhood” or “Selma” for Best Picture, but it stands out to me as the best movie of the last five or 10 years.