Pitches Be Crazy

Year: 2017

Director: Trish Sie

Cast: Anna Kendrick, Rebel Wilson, Brittany Snow

Run Time: 1 hour 33 minutes

MPAA Rating: PG-13

The Pitch Perfect franchise has a pretty personal connection to me. The first one arrived when I was a freshman in college, the same as the characters in the movie. And just like how I grew up at roughly the same rate as Harry Potter, I grew along with the Garden Bellas, through college and into the vaguely defined post-graduation future. These movies have followed every beat of my life since 2012, arriving every couple of years to remind me of the pop songs I tried to ignore while the years were passing. So I knew I had to check out the third and ostensibly final entry in the franchise, despite the fact that I borderline hated the previous entry. Let's see how it went!

Ah, I see they're traveling to Europe! That's always a good sign, right?

Pitch Perfect 3 cuts the fat of the franchise's cast, slicing off pretty much every male character and even one of the Barden Bellas (sorry Stacie, I don't know if you were actually pregnant or just busy, but at least you get a scene over FaceTime - Skylar Astin is stuck prepping for the Trolls TV series and he got squat) as the now graduated Bellas return for one final adventure. They are all struggling with finding their place in the larger world, so they're throwing their all into a USO tour, hoping that they can get noticed over the other bands and picked to open for a cameo-ing DJ Khaled on his big televised show at the end of the week.

The plot is mostly just DJ Khaled straining for laughs, shooting his bizarre personality in every direction possible, but let's break it down a little more. Beca (Anna Kendrick) just quit her job as a corporate music producer, but when she meets Khaled's manager Theo (Guy Burnet) she realizes she might not have lost her interest in that lifestyle. Fat Amy (Rebel Wilson) encounters her mafioso father (John Lithgow sporting a terrible Aussie accent), who tries to charm her back into his life for potentially nefarious reasons. And, um... Chloe (Brittany Snow) flirts with hot Army dude Chicago (Matt Lanter). I guess there's other girls too (Anna Camp, Ester Dean, Hailee Steinfeld, Hana Mae Lee, and poor Chrissie Fit - who was saddled with the worst character in PP2 and as a reward for her patience gets absolutely nothing to do here).

The biggest issue is that the bands they're competing with use actual instruments and claim not to perform covers (that's a big part of the way they judge the Bellas, but if there's a original song in the lineup we eventually see, I'll eat my f**king hat).

Nice try, Josie and the Pussycats.

Now, it's not entirely Pitch Perfect 3's fault that its songs are boring as hell. Sia is very popular at the moment (plus, she has a tie with the first film's use of the song "Titanium"), so it makes sense that they chose to perform "Cheap Thrills." Unfortunately, that song has the tempo of a funeral dirge and does not befit itself to a high energy comedy sequel. It feels like the movie has been thrust into slow motion, and the other songs don't do much to bring the pace back up. 

Among the artists selected to be brought to tedious life without instrumentation are Flo Rida, George Michael, some unbearably hip songbird called Daya, and oh... that's about it. It just all seems hopelessly random and listless, and only Britney Spears' "Toxic" does anything to pique the interest (they clearly know this because the performance is repeated twice, in the opening and about an hour later). There's not even any mash-upping happening here, which is the only trick the Bellas have in their bag! The only thing that got me through the second movie was the a cappella performances, and this film lacks a major lifeline.

At least they didn't force us to listen to any more Hailee Steinfeld-penned original song catastrophes.

I've never liked the recurring Pitch Perfect joke of slapping the prefix "aca-" in front of random words. It's not really a joke, and it's one of the writers' favorite things to shove in there when a scene is flagging. Of course, this entry is more than ready to double down on all the gags people purportedly respond to from the franchise, so I don't get off easy in the comedy department either.

Luckily, the cast is still charming (and quite comfortable in their characters' skins at this point) and manages to deliver some fun, punchy material from the midst of this messy, scattered plot. They're clearly having fun together, and that does spice up some of the potentially leaden moments. But there's no doubting that the whole affair is being held together with bubblegum and twine.

Just like the Ghostbusters remake before it, the end credits reveal just how many scenes were cut to shreds, shoving in outtakes left and right that are very clearly entire scenes that wound up on the cutting room floor. And the film is so uninvested in actual character growth, some of these scenes actually provide vital exposition that should have actually been doled out to us 80 minutes before.

I will say this: Pitch Perfect 3 does know how preposterous it is, and it does lean in with some semi-charming meta jokes and an actually enjoyable sense of total reckless abandon. This is best exemplified in this film's Riff-Off, in which people who clearly have no right knowing how a cappella works conspicuously burst into song, to the chagrin of the Bellas. That doesn't make it a good film, but sometimes it's a sort of enjoyable one.

Better than Part 2? That's a low bar to clear, but I honestly don't think it can claim that title. These sequels have indulged in the worst impulses of the original, which was an incredible comedy in spite of certain flaws. Now these films have buffed out everything but the flaws, and this is a well I hope they don't return to until they've had a long time to think about what they did.

TL;DR: Pitch Perfect 3 is a scattered, tedious sequel that doesn't do right by its characters, its story, or - most importantly - its music.

Rating: 5/10

Word Count: 1072

Reviews In This Series

Pitch Perfect 2 (Banks, 2015)

Pitch Perfect 3 (Sie, 2017)

Et Tu, Monkey?

Year: 2011
Director: Rupert Wyatt
Cast: James Franco, Andy Serkis, Freida Pinto
Run Time: 1 hour 45 minutes
MPAA Rating: PG-13

Full disclosure. Before watching Rise of the Planet of the Apes, I had seen no other films in the illustrious Planet of the Apes franchise. But I'm sufficiently well-versed in pop culture to understand the significance of, say, the main character playing with a Statue of Liberty toy or subtle, discerning homages like the line "Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape!" So let's just say I'm not exactly in the dark.

But enough monkeying around. We've got a prequel reboot requel(?) to review!

What? Like it's my fault your movie's pedigree is so confusing.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes, however it chooses to define itself, tells the story of Will Rodman (James Franco), a scientist working for an Evil Science Corporation testing experimental drugs on apes. During his experiments, he often lets his emotions get the best of him. Like the time he used his experimental Alzheimer's drug on his father (John Lithgow). Or the time he stole a baby monkey named Caesar (Andy Serkis covered in green balls) from the laboratory after his parents were killed following the cancellation of the testing and let him grow up in his well-appointed San Francisco home alongside his ailing parent. He brought a genetically mutated monkey home to hang out with his sick elderly dad. He's basically the worst movie scientist I've ever seen and I recently sat through some 50's sci-fi movies in which the only solution to any problem was to call in the troops and ask them to please bring the big tanks this time.

After the drug successfully eradicates his father's Alzheimer's for a couple years, Will's boss - Lord Business AKA Steven Jacobs (David Oyelowo) decides to allow further tests to continue. Soon afterward, a mishap with an angry neighbor causes the now-grown Caesar to violently act out and be sent away to an animal shelter run by John Landon (Brian Cox) and his petulant son Dodge (Tom Felton). There he meets dozens of mistreated chimpanzees, orangutans, and various other species of his kin. He sneaks them the new drug, which causes hyper-intelligence in apes, but festers dangerous disease in humans. And oh look, but a coworker has been infected and begins sneezing blood on just about anyone who asks.

Oh, also, Will gets a girlfriend, veterinarian Caroline (Freida Pinto), but she has no purpose in the plot, falls for him in under 30 seconds, and is never given a chance to use her skills with animals for any means. She's less important to this movie than James Franco's belly button.

Oh, also there's no good screenshots of her. Feminism!

The thing about RotPotA is that, despite having every possible warning sign, it's actually kinda good. Mind you, it's about as generic as a Hollywood thriller could possibly get and is filled to the brim with La La Land's typical brand of plot holes and quick-and-dirty conveniences (the Alzheimer's vaccine works in one day; nobody thinks to call a doctor when they start dramatically expelling blood from their nostrils), but it's charming for it. And in a franchise as strapped for quality entries as Planet of the Apes, it's hard not to sing the film's praises, though it does suffer from a bit of prequel disease, rendering its entire plot largely pointless because we know exactly what's going to happen.

The two strongest original elements the film brings to the table are its bright, polished aesthetic and its central theme (of growing up and leaving the past behind as you find the place where you belong; also man's hubris will destroy us all, yada yada yada), which hearkens back to the original film's intent without directly copying its message.

The filmmaking is smooth and precise, lending the movie with some beautiful sequences of great craft, including a wonderfully memorable aerial shot as well as several gliding Steadicam moments that guide the viewer through the film's spaces with a magisterial and skilled air. The story itself may be ruthlessly generic and the gore that aches to be in place during some of the more intense sequences is withheld by the PG-13 rating, but it's a well-made shiny diversion and we can't fault it for that.

That's right dad, hug the monkey. Hug the super sanitary, non-health code-violating monkey.

One enormous chink in the film's armor is the special effects. Andy Serkis is a genius in the craft of motion capture performance, so his Caesar is more than capable of carrying a movie on his shoulders. But the apes here are certainly no Gollum, or even King Kong circa 2005. The CGI monkeys seem to exist in a realm slightly to the left of our own in which everything is a little fuzzy around the edges and objects don't really respond to the weight of one's touch. It's decent enough to get the story across, but the animation keeps the film firmly out of reality. It's not like Planet of the Apes is supposed to be a hard-hitting, gritty neorealist drama, but you know what I mean.

Really, there's a lot to complain about with Rise of the Planet of the Apes, but it's all ultimately inconsequential. When you have fun with a movie, why bother shouting into the hurricane? The plot is engaging, Caesar is a well-developed, earnest character, and there are enough nods to the horror genre (28 Days Later would be a more or less perfect double feature with this) to keep the darker side of the film intact. It didn't get snubbed in the 2012 Oscars for no reason, but it's a popcorn movie worth remembering. Here's hoping that Dawn of the Rise of the Planet of the Apes is just as refreshing.

TL;DR: Rise of the Planet of the Apes is a generic Hollywood blockbuster, but it's well-made enough to be a fun, slick time at the movies.
Rating: 7/10
Word Count: 1004

Aging Out

Year: 2014

Director: Ira Sachs

Cast: John Lithgow, Alfred Molina, Marisa Tomei
Run Time: 1 hour 34 minutes
MPAA Rating: R

Queer cinema tends to be a rather bleak affair. Because of the dearth of LGBTQ-related stories, filmmakers tend to think that since they're already pushing the envelope, they may as well make a dreary message picture about AIDS or hate crimes or coming out. Films about gay individuals rarely explore their humanity, instead turning them into martyrs for some cause or another.

Love is Strange is not one of those films, and for that we must thank it. In and of itself, it's not a particularly terrific film, but for there to be a vibrant and varied tapestry of films regarding these topics, there have got to be some duds, just for spice.

Speaking of duds, check out these slick getups.

Love Is Strange tells the story of two longtime lovers, Ben (John Lithgow) - a painter - and George (Alfred Molina) - a musician, detailing how their eventual marriage ruptures their lives from the outside. When George is fired from his position as the conductor for a Catholic school choir due to his wedding being perceived as a political statement, they can no longer afford their rent.

Against their wishes, the newlyweds are separated until they can find a new place. Ben is sent to live with his nephew Elliot (Darren E. Burrows), his wife Kate (Marisa Tomei), and their son Joey (Charlie Tahan). Their family dysfunction is not caused, but is certainly exacerbated by Joey being forced to share a bunk bed with his ancient relative as he blathers on endlessly while dripping memories from his head like a sieve. George shacks up with a relation of his own - young cop Roberto (Manny Perez) and his similarly be-copped boyfriend Ted (Cheyenne Jackson).

The film does everything it can with angles and composition to emphasize space - the tightness of living in a New York apartment with other people, especially uninvited houseguests, being key to the entire narrative. It accomplishes this clearly and with grace, but despite a functional visual style supporting the theme, mere cinematography can't be the Atlas carrying the world of a story on its shoulders.

Much like Joey, cinematography could barely carry a grocery bag without breaking into a sweat.

Thankfully, Love Is Strange has four solid anchors. The two leads are uniformly terrific, displaying the craft they've honed for decades, and Marisa Tomei shines as the resolutely imperfect, arrogant housewife who struggles to fit her internal issues with her external perception of herself. Cheyenne Jackson likewise magnetizes the viewer, albeit in a much smaller, thankless role. But his easy performance brings a sense of naturalism to what could easily have become a stilted, overdone premise, especially considering that the dysfunctional family isn't exactly a shunned topic in the annals of indie cinema.

But in spite of all of this solid work, Love Is Strange is an unutterably messy narrative. Weeks slip by unnoticed between scenes and the central conflict of the second act of the film is so ludicrously inane that I was halfway convinced I was watching a heavily-veiled satire - SPOILERS [There are countless family meetings, arguments, and accusations about all the time Joey spends with his new, slightly older friend Vlad (Eric Tabach) alone in his room. Like any reasonable parents, Kate and Elliot are concerned that Joey and Vlad are... stealing library books. I'm really shocked the MPAA let this kind of scandalous material run by them unchecked.]

What begins as a sprawling dysfunctional family narrative quickly pares itself down to just the essential people and moments, yet most of the thematic, core material about love and perhaps strangeness occurs offscreen. Lithgow and Molina are by far the most seasoned and committed performers onscreen, but they are kept apart for far too long. Deprived of a dramatic foil, each character slowly dilutes until there's nothing left but a thin smear of color. An alarmingly ill-advised scene in the climax relies on an emotional intimacy with these characters that hasn't been present for a good thirty minutes, feeling for all the world like a high school production of Les Misérables - it's emotional and resonant in theory simply by displaying the thing that it displays, but any emotion evoked is absolutely not earned by qualities present in the work itself.

Unless those emotions are related to pretty men in cop uniforms.

And don't even get me started on the ending, by far the worst scene in the entire film, placing the entire crux of the narrative on the uneven shoulders of the clunkiest performer and quickly disintegrating any remaining goodwill with vapid, generic independent film imagery.

But Love Is Strange isn't exactly the scourge of the Earth despite its flaws. The performances are largely on point, there is some sparkle of wit in the humor, and it is perhaps the most effortlessly diverse film of 2014. It's always nice for a film to depict interracial relationships, especially in a New York setting considering that the city is a larger melting pot than the one at the Hershey factory.

But we've finally reached the point where multiple, varied, layered ethnic characters can be integrated into a storyline by the American media without the flop sweat of tokenism present in earlier decades, especially on TV shows like Friends and movies like all of them. In combination with the intelligent queer narrative that comes into play, it's like a diversity variety hour, and a pretty terrific example for what films should strive to look like in the future.

I'll be happy if I never see Love Is Strange again, but it's nice to see a movie prove that the world can be depicted as it really is - messy, diverse, angry, loving, loud, exciting, and even strange.

TL;DR: Love Is Strange is a massively sloppy narrative but remains reasonably enjoyable throughout.
Rating: 6/10

Should I Spend Money On This? I wouldn't. It'll end up on HBO Go sometimes probably. Click through it if you're binging, but don't set a date and bust out the popcorn.

Word Count: 1017