Whiplash2014

Fletcher:
Tell me it's not you, Elmer Fudd. [walks over to Metz] It's okay. Play.

[Metz plays a couple of notes; Fletcher stops him]

Fletcher:
Do you think you're out of tune?

[Metz only stares at the floor]

Fletcher:
What are you ... there's no f***ing Mars bar down there. What are you looking at? Look up here, look at me. Do you think you're out of tune?

Metz:
[after a long, hesitant pause] Yes.

Fletcher:
[yelling] THEN WHY THE F*** DIDN'T YOU SAY SO?! [calmer tone] I've carried your fat ass for too long, Metz. I'm not gonna have you cost us a competition because your mind's on a f***ing Happy Meal instead of on pitch. Jackson, congratulations. You're fourth chair. Metz, why are you still sitting there? Get the f*** out!