The heartbeat of ambition

Lessons from Whiplash on making ambition sustainable

'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."

This is a quote from Andrew, the protagonist of Whiplash. In a moment of insecurity at the dinner table, he tells this to his family, people who don’t respect his musical accomplishments and ambitions.

This line has stuck with me, not just because Whiplash is a fantastic film (please watch it) but because it sounds like me not too long ago. I was obsessed with the idea of legacy. I internalized the narrative that I needed to leave my mark behind to lead a meaningful life, even if it meant sacrificing things in the short term. The sacrifices demonstrated my commitment to the cause, proving that I was willing to walk the walk.

But is the end result worth it?

Fear of mediocrity.

In some ways, clinging to the ambition narrative is a defense mechanism for avoiding mediocrity. We believe that if we’re just like everyone else, we might not receive the love and attention we want. Or maybe we feel shame about needing more love and attention than others, so we use our ambition as a “cheat code” to receive the love we need. It’s not just a story in our heads. Our society rewards and validates traditionally ambitious people. That’s why we love mavericks, entrepreneurs, and underdogs—people who beat the odds and emerge as winners on the other side.

Over time, ambition can become a powerful identity anchor, quickly seeping into every area of our lives, including our personal lives. This leads to a neverending spiral of continuous burnout, but stepping out of that spiral requires embracing mediocrity, which seems scarier because it requires reshaping one's identity, which can seem impossible.

Enter Whiplash

Few films capture this self-destructive dance with ambition as viscerally as Whiplash. It shows the gritty, stark reality of this journey without any judgment. There are many moments where you want to reach across the screen and shake Andrew, like when he practices drums too hard and bleeds everywhere, breaks up with his girlfriend because she’s a “distraction,” or tolerates abusive language from his teacher, Fletcher. Why is he putting up with this?

But then you see him in his vulnerable moments. He’s awkward and insecure around girls. His dad loves him but doesn’t get what he’s doing with music. His mom isn’t there, and though Andrew never talks about it, it feels important. Given the circumstances of his life, it makes sense why he’d pour himself into his work. Fletcher sees potential in him, which excites Andrew. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to get Fletcher’s approval despite the harm, which traps him in a toxic (and abusive) cycle.

Still from Whiplash (credits: New Yorker)

Understanding this, you can see why Andrew would shun mediocrity and needs excellence to feel like his life matters. Andrew is addicted to excellence, a feeling I’m all too familiar with.

Reframing ambition.

Like many forms of addiction, you can’t get rid of something without replacing it with something else. If I’m not “traditionally” ambitious anymore because I see the harm it can cause, then who am I?

It’s a question that I’m still actively grappling with. The truth is, there are no easy answers. I don’t think I’ll ever be a person who is fully complacent or “non-ambitious.” I like growth and making shit happen. It’s become a core part of my personality. And it’s not all bad. It’s helped me do cool things, like run a half marathon or write a screenplay, which has had many benefits in other areas of my life.

But I think (and this is Whiplash's message) that we should not let ambition permanently take over. If it impedes things we value, like the quality of our relationships with loved ones or mental capacity, we must change how we approach our ambition. It’s asking ourselves the end purpose of this ambition (like, what void is it trying to fill) and what we need in other areas of our life for the ambition to be “harmonious.” Applying this principle has required me to be clear on my values, both with ambition and outside of it, which requires knowing myself deeply.

I value making things and want to have the physical and mental capacity to do that for the rest of my life. I value family and unbridled emotional vulnerability, which requires time and mental space. I value staying present with the entire spectrum of the human experience, good or bad, because that’s what it means to live.

Therefore, ambition is my engine that makes these values possible. It drives me to develop skills that enhance my creative work, making each project better and more efficient than the last. The joy and satisfaction I get from creating flow into other areas of my life, giving me the energy to stay present and connect with others.

But this delicate balance only works when ambition serves these values rather than overshadowing them—which is precisely where Andrew went wrong. Unlike him, I’ve learned that you don’t self-actualize by sacrificing everything at ambition’s altar but by leveraging it to do the things that make life worth living.

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