Whiplash: an ambitious and cocksure jazz drummer comes head to head with an abusive conductor that will do anything to push his students beyond their limits. It’s an interesting film in that the focus is on two very unlikable and unsympathetic characters; and a couple of Jazz songs dominate the soundtrack – both of these elements have the potential to isolate viewers. A film set around jazz band performances and rehearsals could have used more visual flare and flashy camera tricks, but the way it’s all cut together helps squeeze every last bit of tension and drama out of the big moments. All the actors live in the shadow of J.K. Simmons’ band leader, who is portrayed as venomous, dangerous, and borderline sociopathic individual… although it’s frequently hinted that – despite his extreme methods – he is genuinely trying to push his musicians into greatness. An examination of ‘how far is too far’, Whiplash is a unique teacher/student drama that’s adequately made, but elevated by huge performances, a booming audio track, and the fist-pumping finale.
And here comes mister gay pride of the Upper West Side himself. Unfortunately, this is not a Bette Midler concert, we will not be serving Cosmopolitans and Baked Alaska, so just play faster than you give fucking hand jobs, will you please?