Even though Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash was one of those ‘Best Picture’ films that I felt like I should watch just because it was nominated for a best picture Oscar, I never really had much inclination to do so and so it stayed on the outer edges of my, mentally kept, watchlist. When I recently found it whilst flicking through Now TV’s catalogue of films, I finally decided to press play and WOW! I can honestly say that this is a film that has cemented its place in some of my all time favourites.

Whiplash is one of those rare cinematic experiences that is so well executed that it is physically uncomfortable to watch. It tells the story of nineteen year old Andrew Niemann (Miles Teller), a first year music student with dreams of grandeur and an ambition to become the world’s greatest Jazz drummer.

Getting accepted in to the country’s best music school, the Shaffer Conservatory of Music, isn’t enough. The true mark of prestige is to be selected for the studio band which, under the fierce tutelage of the formidable Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons) is the school’s crown jewel on competition circuit.

After a less than impressive first encounter, Andrew is surprised when Fletcher picks him as the alternate drummer for the competitive studio band, an opportunity which he is quick to take up, and he soon learns that Fletcher operates on a culture of fear, intimidation and emotional manipulation. Family, friends and potential love interests become mere distractions for Andrew in his pursuit for perfection and greatness, as his willingness to sacrifice his mind, body and soul, coupled with Fletcher’s abusive methods, draw him into a spiral of obsession that pushes him to the very edge.

There is a fine line between pushing your students to achieve their full potential and abusing your power for your own satisfaction and J.K. Simmons balances this perfectly, delivering an Oscar-winning powerhouse performance that extends beyond the confines of the screen and into your very soul. Despite his terrifying and abrasive attitude, I wouldn’t say that Fletcher is a villain, not in the truest sense of the word, and, at times, I find myself drawn to the character. I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong when he declared that the two most dangerous words in the English language are “Good Job”. After all, a diamond can only be produced under immense heat and pressure.

Opposite Simmons is Miles Teller who, having played the drums since he was fifteen, gives a solid and sincere performance as Niemann, perfectly balancing the confidence that natural talent can bring with the insecurity of proving you deserve it. The physicality that Teller brings to the screen is as exhausting to watch as it must have been to perform, and you feel every single bead of sweat and drop of blood that he gives us.

Visually, Whiplash is nothing sort of a masterpiece in my humble opinion. From the splatters of blood across the skin of the drum to the drops of sweat glistening on the brass of the cymbal, every single choice of camera angle or shot selection is sheer perfection and the pleasantly muted colour palette is held in stark contrast to the fiery battle of wills that play out on screen.

It feels a little oxymoronic to talk about a Jazz thriller but that is exactly what director Damien Chazelle has achieved with Whiplash. He delivers a nerve-shredding, edge of your seat experience, so packed full of tension that it left me feeling emotionally exhausted yet buzzing with pent-up adrenaline. Although I may need some time to recover, this is definitely a film that I will revisit.