Why does anyone tolerate the Barden Bellas?
I’m not referring to the general public’s indulgence of their on-screen hijinks (although that does befuddle me). No, I’m more concerned with why anyone in the Pitch Perfect-verse (do I have to call it that?) puts up with them. Over three increasingly less-entertaining movies, why do a bevy of supporting characters swoon over them while their rivals eventually admit a grudging respect for them? Why are they treated like goofy, but ultimately good-hearted people? Why are we expected to like them?
Because, quite frankly, the Barden Bellas are the worst. They’re selfish, they’re spoiled, they’re rude to strangers and each other, they seem to have no skills, interests, or lives outside of a capella singing, and they’re all quite dim. They spend most of their time complaining, starting fights, and bickering with one another. Spending any longer than an hour with these craven monsters would probably constitute inhuman treatment under the Geneva Convention. I mean, in Pitch Perfect 3, one of them is revealed to be literally possessed by a demon.
And I haven’t even mentioned the queen of odious behaviour: Fat Amy. Played by Rebel Wilson with her typical lack of subtly or nuance, Fat Amy is one of cinema’s greatest villains. A cold-blooded sociopath with no regard for anything but her own insatiable ego, Amy is truly detestable. She’s cruel, stupid, vulgar, crass, annoying, and vapid beyond belief. The fact the she’s meant to be the comic relief for this series is something I can’t wrap my head around. She’s more evil than Emperor Palpatine.
Pitch Perfect 3 (the promised final chapter in this acca-trilogy...oh, no, now I’m doing it) is a textbook example of diminishing returns. The two-dimensional, but fun characters from the first film have now overstayed their welcome in this third entry. They have nothing new to learn, no interesting adventures to go on, and no more depths to explore. But the studio demanded another Pitch Perfect, so the Barden Bellas are dragged through one more intolerable excursion before the ride off into that sweet goodnight. And the filmmakers make the characters and the movie so miserable that not even the most ardent fan will demand a Pitch Perfect 4.
Beca (Anna Kendrick), Fat Amy, and all the other characters with interchangeable personalities have been standing around doing nothing since Pitch Perfect 2, so when an opportunity arises to play at a USO show with DJ Khaled (played by famed non-actor DJ Khaled), they jump on it. But, in typical Pitch Perfect fashion, they have to compete with other bands, including an all-girl rock group called EverMoist, because apparently it’s still 1998.
There’s no narrative momentum in P3 (as we cool kids call it). Things just happen without much character or plot motivation. The film is a series of loosely connected incidents that eventually stumble into a limp climax. This movie is a rare case where a subplot complete overtakes the main plot in third act and serves as the grand finale. It’s lazy, uninvolving writing.
There are vague themes of family and growing up, but they don’t connect with anything that actually happens in the story. It’s just the same surface-level fluff from the last two movies. Cinematic regurgitation.
The gags are limp, mostly based on topical references that will be out of date in a months. Once in a while a joke lands, but they’re few and far between. The a capella singing, the main attraction in these movies, is awful. They cranked the cringe meter to 11 for every song. It’s no longer funny; it’s just annoying.
The cast is low energy and bored. Anna Kendrick is on pure auto-pilot as she cashes one more paycheque. Rebel Wilson solidifies herself as one of the worst actresses in Hollywood today with her abysmal performance. John Lithgow puts on an Australian accent as he sleep walks through a weak villain role. The less said about DJ Khaled’s so-bad-it’s-almost-brilliant performance, the better.
The first Pitch Perfect was unexpectedly watchable. The second was more of the same. P3 ends the series on such a sour note it retroactively makes the first two films worse. Acca-skip it (oh, God, makes it stop).
