Whiplash

The film has potential, but ultimately there's more bark than bite.

Revealing both the dangers and payoffs of artistic ambition, Whiplash is sure to establish Chazelle as a directorial force to be reckoned with.

It's a thorny, thoughtful movie that asks provocative questions and isn't cocky enough to boast of knowing the answers.

For all its overripe contrivance, you'll leave the cinema with a spring in your step and a thump in your chest, eager to bang the drum for what deserves to be one of the year's real word-of-mouth hits.

Chazelle, training a keen eye on the proceedings, seems to delight in the spectacle of relentless punishment.

What gives the film such a kick, in spite of its improbabilities, is its raw and brutal but also very subtle portrayal of the shifting, attritional relations between teacher and student, sorcerer and apprentice.

Whiplash is a monster of a film, paced with a kinetic energy that moves like its own jazz piece.

Here the classroom is the battlefield and dropping a drumstick feels just as devastating and crucial a moment as a grenade falling between your feet.

This is as much psychological thriller as musical drama and it turns on the increasingly toxic chemistry between two clearly damaged people, to the exclusion of pretty much anyone else in the film

What does it mean to be great? I loved Whiplash because Damien Chazelle highlights the blood, sweat and tears that come along with pure devotion to one’s craft; the hard work when nobody’s there to pat you on the shoulder. The final scene…wow.