There’s no better cinematic experience than when a movie surprises you not once, but twice. The first time it surprises you is with consistently good filmmaking, and the second time is when after the film is over, all of the parts unexpectedly come together into a minor masterpiece. In the rare case of a little film like “Whip It,” I left the theater exhilarated, because it not only surprised me by being a good movie, but it never led me to believe it was as great as it was until the credits were rolling.
Ingrid Michaelson, the female singer-songwriter I deemed to be the “cute first girlfriend” type, may have elevated herself to the unattainable hottie level following her electric performance at the House of Blues in New Orleans Friday.
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