This movie has everything from dining table sex to literal Nazi youth but is so enamoured with its prestige drama restraint that its wellspring of tension merely peters out into a blandly handsome nothingness.
A thrilling monument to the punishing demands of greatness, Whiplash packs a walloping reminder of how beautifully screen and sound can come together when the medium is dexterously used. A gloriously bold soundtrack winds itself tightly throughout the movie, the impact of which is only heightened by some brilliantly sharp and nimble editing.
There were certain elements of Whiplash that I didn't like (including, minor spoilers ahead, only the second most contrived car-crash in a Miles Teller movie) but they're…
So here's the thing. One third of this movie is absolutely perfect. There's the incongruously quality cast, filled with the likes of Cranston, Binoche (of all people!), Watanabe, Strathairn and Hawkins, who round out a band of familiar but welcome old tropes - the paranoid engineer, the concerned scientists, the troubled military man.
Then there's the perfect balance of thrilling disaster porn and deep historical foreboding (perfectly summed up in the movie's great credit sequence), which lend the proceedings their…