It is possible that Mariah Carey may not be to blame for this heroically bad film, writes Andrew Richards.

Here we have a project that panders to the soul diva, who has enough unit-shifting ability to pick and choose within a scheme too scared to defy her. She may be rubbish at acting, but she does sell a lot of records.

Carey plays Billie Frank, a young singer who works (or worms) her way from disco clubs to Madison Square Garden with the help of love interest DJ Dice, played by Max Beesley (who will surely get a ribbing from girlfirend Mel B even Spiceworld was better than this!).

Glitter is the kind of fluff that sends critics into a screa-ming frenzy, curled up on a foyer floor, foaming at the mouth and clutching their eyes in a desperate bid to remove the vile images.

Forget the excess, the deaths, the substance abuse this is a world where story and dramatic concerns have been replaced with searching exchanges such as: Will you sign to my label? Boy, I sure will. Good, now sing another song!. It beggars belief. Absolutely nothing happens.

Carey, after her mysterious breakdown, refused to publicise the movie and you have to wonder, who can blame her?

Out tomorrow.