|JK Simmons being angry|
Shameless plug: This poster can now be bought as a print from my Etsy store: www.etsy.com/uk/shop/SundayDogParade
So, I got around to watching Whiplash on the weekend and it blew me away. I can't remember watching any other non-horror movie that created such a high level of tension and sustained it the whole way through. It was the most stressful thing I've gone through in years (despite trying to fix my own handbrake last month) and I can't recommend it highly enough.
And I had to immediately make a poster for it despite swearing off making pop art movie posters a couple of posts ago because the world is broken or something.
The film dwells on the Gladwellian nature of practice, and life-damaging super-focus and whether the price of destroying yourself completely in an absolutely masochistic fashion is worth becoming truly great. And if it's even necessary. And whether or not it's a service to mankind to force that upon someone else.
I feel a little bad about focusing so heavily on JK Simmons here because Miles Teller is fantastic as the obsessively driven jazz drumming protagonist who plays until he's drenched in sweat and the skins are splattered with blood. But JK Simmons is also terrific as the apoplectic coil of sinewy band leader Miles' character is trying to impress. Plus, he has a face that looks like a rocky outcrop and a pithy catchphrase. That's poster material in my book.
I've also cheated a bit, because his constant refrain of "not quite my tempo" is generally uttered rather placidly (and therein lies it's horror) but, as demonstrated by my unnecessary use of crunchy adjectives, I lack subtlety.