I blame “Glee.” For a multitude of sins, really. But specifically, I blame “Glee” for the burning desire with which I want to see “Pitch Perfect.” Yes, the movie that sounds a lot like “Glee: The College Years.” But, dammit, if I don’t plan to slink off and see it the second it comes out. Part of this is because I can’t resist the intoxicating combination of young people’s aspirations and jazz hands. Let’s all be honest and acknowledge that the singing and dancing is what makes us love “Glee” even when we shouldn’t (though last week was an improvement, I thought). And this is singing and dancing without a curfew or with Rebel Wilson. Certainly, a few things seem rather derivative. Did the new girl really get discovered singing in the shower? Did Fat Amy really get pseudo-slushied? Also, I’m having a hard time telling Bland Leading Boy No. 1 from Bland Leading Boy No. 2. But the story is written by longtime “30 Rock” scribe Kay Cannon, so it has to be more than just Ryan Murphy Lite. Also, and I cannot repeat this enough, Rebel Wilson. Anyone who can make me snort laugh twice in a trailer deserves at the very least the price of admission.