Search This Blog

Monday, 2 December 2002


Through-out the century-long history of movies, a whole lot of people from a whole lot of professions have become good actors, so on the surface there's no reason why Mariah Carey can't do the same. Oh wait, yes there is: SHE CAN'T ACT. This wouldn't be a problem - after all, she pays the bills with her voice - only someone somewhere figured it'd be a really good idea to put her in a movie, and instead of the more traditional methods used to hide a lead actresses lack of talent (skilful editing, dubbing, nudity, etc), they went with the rarely used technique of dragging the rest of the movie down to her low, low standard. The good news is, this takes its time building up to its eventual laughable level of ineptitude: young Billie Frank (Carey) had a drunken arsonist mother who put her in an orphanage where she met her two lifelong friend, memorably described by one character as Roach Bag and Fat Ass. Growing up to be slutty dancers at a New York nightclub circa 1983 - and in case you ever forget that this is taking place in New York, almost every scene begins with an aerial shot of the city - they get a gig as backing singers for a no-talent bimbo and her evil pimp manager. Rescued from this fate by DJ / producer / leather pants wearer Duce (Max Beesley), Billie goes on to barely mentioned fame and fortune while Duce loses it big time, starts going to parties topless, and cruelly prevents Billie from dressing as slutty as she wants to. Oh, and Billie may be some kind of robot, as in most scenes she has a streak of metallic paint smeared on her skin. Every time Billie and Duce had a conversation, the entire audience at the screening I saw started laughing at the inept dialogue and tragic performances: if you want proof that tragedy can bring people together, then check Glitter out.

Anthony Morris

(this review appeared in Forte#259)

No comments:

Post a Comment