Dear Pitch Perfect,
In this world, it's not often that we see the true meaning of friendship on display. Yet that's just what I saw it with you, Pitch Perfect. Let's be honest: We barely know each other. Sure, I knew who you were -- we've been running around in the same circles for, what, a couple of years now? -- but I had no idea you could make a person feel this way.
I have to admit, I almost ignored your first email to me. Your introduction was a little abrasive for my tastes: "You and your friend are invited to be Pitch Slapped .. and attend an advanced screening of PITCH PEFECT." I mean, I didn't want to be "Pitch Slapped." I didn't even know what that meant. (You and your slang, Pitch Perfect -- it's just so you.) And who refers to themselves in the first person and in all caps. You're certainly not one for being subtle, Pitch Perfect.
Against my better judgment, I accepted your crude invitation to be "Pitch Slapped." On the day I met you, things weren't going so well. Still suffering from a recent breakup, I was feeling quite lousy. Pitch Slap the fuck out of me, I thought. See if I care.
Boy, did I ever get Pitch Slapped. (I still don't know what that means.)
The funny thing, Pitch Perfect, is it's as if you knew. It's as if you reached right into the audience, while singing Ace of Base, and said, "Hey, come with me, tiger. Everything's going to be OK." At that moment, I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes. I saw the sign. (The sign was you, Pitch Perfect.)
Now, I know that your attempt at friendship could be easily dismissed as "trite." A story about competitive a cappella groups is hardly what a true relationship should be based upon. I was wary at first: I mean, Anna Kendrick playing a college freshman? Oh, puh-leeze. How am I supposed to trust you when you are so blatantly lying to me? And your reliance on vomiting for attention is, well, alarming.
But your songs! Good grief, your songs. Ace of Base: Boom! Toni Basil: Boom! The second time this year I've seen "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" performed in a theatrical group sing-along: Boom! (Sorry to re-open old wounds, "Rock of Ages.")
Pitch Perfect, I'm not sure who exactly tipped you off to the fact that a good reference to The Breakfast Club will always cheer me up -- but the many, many, many references sure did the trick: A chill went down my back when a rendition of Simple Minds' "(Don't You) Forget About Me" was performed. Pitch Perfect, you even tricked me into enjoying a song by Flo Rida.
So, yes, thank you, Pitch Perfect. When you started, I was miserable; when you ended, I was (at least temporarily) happy. No matter how anyone decides to criticize you, no matter how many times it's pointed out that the plot doesn't always make sense (in your world, a borderline mute can make it on to an a cappella team -- sure!), that will never change what you did for me. You made me forget about the things that were bothering me and, for that, I am eternally grateful. For that, Pitch Perfect, I thank you. You made me realize that there is a world out there worth living. Granted, it's not a world that actually exists in anything even remotely resembling a reality. But, still ... maybe, somewhere, I could be on stage and singing The Bangles' "Eternal Flame." Maybe I could make my own mash-up: DeBarge and Kriss Kross. MAYBE THAT WOULD BE PERFECT MUSIC -- YOU DON'T KNOW!!!
Maybe I could be as happy as I was when I was watching Pitch Perfect.
Forever your friend,
Mike Ryan is senior writer for Huffington Post Entertainment. You can contact him directly on Twitter.
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