A Musical Segué

Ok, confession time. I secretly love “Glee,” and anything that stems from “Glee.” I’m looking at you, “Pitch Perfect.” But due to their shallow plots, they don’t give me reason to continue following.

Why do I love “Glee,” etc? Anything combined with music makes a deadly combination to make me feel things I don’t want to feel.

This may just be me, but music does something strange to me. A droll scene in any movie that usually has me sprawling across the couch bawling with boredom can suddenly make me want to step outside and do aerobics just with the addition of music.

A day that seems like the only thing I’d accomplish is leaving my mark in the shape of my ass onto my couch can suddenly end up with me galvanizing into action and attack my chores with the ferocity of a pitbull trained for a dog fight.

Just by hearing music.

Hearing music is like discovering the meaning to life and the meaning to life is dancing and living and action. 

So it’s no surprise when music throughout scenes make me want to eat a baby. Chalk it up to my ADD, but the pervasion of music makes me ecstatic and suddenly I’m feeling things that I didn’t want to feel for the grade-C movie/show.

Even though their corniness and lack of depth in plot cannot be overlooked, it is overlooked. Constantly. Producers of pseudo-musicals get away with this all the time not just by the entertainment industry but me! I know, I know. With my credentials, who would’ve known?

It doesn’t matter that the teenager can’t hook up with their pet because it’s illegal—or something else that I absolutely cannot relate to—the minute I hear the music, I’m all for their forbidden love. Go ahead, I’d cheer silently, kiss the cat! God, it’s like a modern day Romeo and Juliet. 

Or, if there’s sad music playing in the background of a spoiled teenager who got their BMW taken away for five seconds, I’d think, this world is too unfair. That kid only ran over the deer three times—let him off the hook, goddamnit! 

However many feelings these evil things compel me to feel, they don’t leave an impression. I don’t get attached to the characters or care much for the plot. It’s kind of like a sugar high—great while it lasts and leaves me wanting more. No, that’s not the message I wanted to send.

It’s like eating a huge burger from McDonalds as a vegetarian. Sure, it’s delicious during it and makes me feel things that I don’t want to feel—some of which include clogged arteries and a release of inhibition—but afterwards, I don’t really want to revisit the experience.

Which is why I really don’t follow “Glee,” nor do I look forward to the premier of “Pitch Perfect” with a rabid intensity.

I will say though, that if any friends did want to see “Pitch Perfect,” I suppose I can find some time in my schedule to see it out of the kindness of my heart.


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