The Pitch Perfect universe feels like a 1989-era Taylor Swift Instagram experience, before she deleted all her ‘grams to get all self-serious and boring. It’s a shiny, flawless, and highly-edited world of pretty girls having curated fun, and if I could live in it, you bet your ass I would, because it is a delightful land to inhabit for a fast-paced, totally ridiculous 90 minutes.

Pitch Perfect 3 trusts that its audience has seen the first two movies and banks on the characters’ established charm. It also crams in as much singing and silly choreography as it can, and leaves scant time for dialogue (who cares!) or character development (whatever!) or any male characters aside from a couple of minor romantic interests and some disappointing father figures (who needs ’em?! ).

But the film makes up for what it lacks in normal human interaction with sequins, yachts, and an excellent application of Britney Spears’ “Toxic.” Oh, and John Lithgow! All that stuff is way more fun than regular people having any sort of plausible life anyway. I mean, the Bellas’ nemesis on the USO Tour (yeah, that’s a thing that happens, just go with it) is an all-female rock band called “Evermoist,” led by Ruby Rose.

E V E R M O I S T!

Like I’ve been saying, this movie is amazing.

To be clear: This is not a necessary sequel. It’s not answering any questions left unanswered by the first two films. But it is a gift from Hollywood to women, because we’ve been through a lot, and we deserve it, goddammit.

In closing, please do not hesitate to reach out to me to discuss the immediate formation of a singing group, or some sort of activity where we can dress fun all the time. BYO sequins.