The tagline for Glitter is "A strength to survive. A desire to dream". You'll need both to get through this brain-bleedingly dreadful soulwaster. This is a supposed vanity project for Pop DivaTM Mariah Carey, but it's hard to imagine anyone with any spongy grey stuff between their ears agreeing to play as such a limp, dim-witted character. Unless, of course, they are themselves limp and dim-witted...
But it's cruel to be mean to Carey - - a definite case of mocking the afflicted. The lasting impression is that, bluntly, she has no idea what's going on. When the director of Billie's music video crassly exclaims : ""I want to see more of her breasts"," did Carey - - whose shameless flesh-exposure is plain embarrassing - not spot the irony?
Surprisingly, the acting isn't all that bad. While it's sad to see Terrence Howard's screen charisma wasted in such a one-dimensional role, Carey just about copes with playing a variation on herself and Burnage-born Beesley pulls off a passable US accent (occasionally slipping into De Niro parody). But who greenlit a movie so atrociously written? Kate Lanier's screenplay lacks any kind of character development, or anything approaching a story arc. (Newsflash: having someone shot at the end is not a sure-fire dramatic winner.)
Carey's publicity claims she has a seven-octave vocal range (which, if true, would mean there are probably songs on her albums only dogs can hear - - the poor buggers), so it's pitifully ironic she stars in such a one-note movie. It can't even scale heights of campy awfulness. This isn't so bad it's good, it's so bad it's actionable. Barbra Streisand, Whitney Houston, Cher, Madonna, Bette Midler, Tina Turner, have all tried, and will doubtless try again, but they'll never make a movie as dreadful as this.