It’s not often that you walk out of a movie theatre feeling as if you’d just run a 20km… when all you really just did was watch a movie. Well, this is exactly what Whiplash achieved. It had just the right balance of dark humour, suspense and brilliant cinematography to make the mundane tale of the modern jazz industry as exciting a Bruce Willis, Die Hard film. Miles Teller, in one of his earliest performance’s shone just as bright as the legendary J.K Simmons at his side, their chemistry both undeniable and riveting. I’ve never seen two characters with such a large age difference work together so seamlessly. J.K Simmons’ performance was in a league of its own, he’s been funny before, that’s before, but he’s never made me hold my breath as much as he did in Whiplash. He was simply terrifying. One minute he was the encouraging music teacher, repeating with a heightening pitch, “not quite my tempo,” the next he was throwing a chair straight at Miles Tellers head, leaving the audience constantly shaking with anticipation.
However, what really blew my socks off, more than the unbelievable soundtrack, and unbelievable camera work, capturing every bead of sweat that rolled off Teller’s body and every vibration on each drum, was the ending. It was so perfect that I felt as if all of the breath had been kicked out of my lungs, leaving the theatre breathless and in an absolute trance. This film does not disappoint in the slightest, not a single line that came out of the leading actors’ mouths were weak, not a single drum beat was out of place, you’ll leave the theatre a song in your heart and your limbs on fire.