GLITTER (PG) is the first stage in Mariah Carey's transition from pop star to movie star.

And the question on everyone's lips: is she any good?

Well, you may recall Meryl Streep's Oscar-winning turn in the powerful drama Sophie's Choice. There was a key scene which saw Streep's character relate a devastating incident from her past. During that scene Streep is perched on the edge of a bed and Mariah Carey has about as much acting talent as the wooden headboard seen in the background.

Glitter is an awful film and Carey is quite simply an awful actress.

She plays Billie Frank, a singer from a troubled background with dreams of hitting the big time. We first meet the pre-pubescent Billie sitting in a smoky bar while her mom, an alcoholic, belts out soul and blues standards.

Billie is eventually abandoned by her mother and taken to an orphanage, (with her pet cat), where she soon makes a couple of friends.

Fast forward a few years and we are in New York at a time when dance music is all the rage. Billie and her chums are all grown up and eke out a living as nightclub dancers and backing singers, until successful DJ Julian Dice (Max Beesley) sees, or rather hears, something special in Billie.

He gets to know her, convinces her she can be a great singer and becomes her producer, and her lover.

Soon Billie and Julian's partnership bears fruit, with the once shy but ambitious singer becoming a major pop star.

But sure enough life is not all a bowl of cherries as Julian struggles to come to terms with Billie's growing success, which sees him gradually lose control of his protogee.

It would be all too easy to point the finger solely at Carey for Glitter's failings. The script is weak and cliche-ridden and the direction is pedestrian. Opportunities could have been taken to jazz up some of the performance set pieces (let's face it, Carey does have a good singing voice) but they look awkwardly and self-consciously staged.

But there is no disguising the fact this film is one big ego trip for its star. She gets plenty of close ups, and is regularly draped in glittery pop diva gowns. She is also plonked in front of a microphone every so often to warble at us a bit.

However, in between looking nice and sounding good, Carey must do the necessary to keep the story going (which, incidentally, is semi-biographical, so in terms of acting she is pretty much playing herself), which is to say her lines and perform in such a way so that there is an emotional connection between her presence on the screen and those of us watching that performance.

But when you can see little difference between Carey looking delighted at being given a record contract and of her being distraught on receiving news of a tragedy, you know you are in trouble.

One doesn't want to appear cruel, but Carey is a successful and powerful showbusiness personality and she ought to recognise that there are limits to her talents. Or at least someone in her entourage with enough savvy should have had a quiet word in her ear to prevent her from embarrassing herself.

Next up? How about a supporting role as a piece of furniture in Julia Roberts' next movie?

Rating: 2 out of 10