I approached Whiplash expecting to like it. I underestimated it and it floored me, I loved it. I'll describe my expectations: I expected a witty, good enough, coming of age indie flick with the sly direction of a flashy youth. I expected milk chocolate, and was served dark with red wine. At first I was cautious, we start on black with the pitter patter of drums until boom! Heavy bass and the title emerges 'WHIPLASH' in humble size upon the screen. Okay fine with me; and then our ambitious drummer orders some snacks at the theater, and a montage rips across the screen: close up on a stream of soda, the tightening of a cheese lid. Impressive display sure, but necessary to exercise over some popcorn and soda? Hardly, or so I thought.