Mariah, if you ever decide to leave the stressful world of pop music for the equally-stressful world of pop movies, you've got to work on a few things. For starters, you have to talk more. Scenes go by in your glossy new movie without you uttering more than a sentence or two. Ms. Carrey that simply cannot happen. Maybe the director, Vondie Curtis Hall (Gridlock'd), was just a bit hesitant about letting you fully extend your wings in your big-screen debut. And another thing. In the future, you've gotta be more particular about the roles you choose.

Sure, in pre-production, it probably sounded cool playing an aspiring singer who gradually realizes that everything that glitters in showbiz ain't gold. But it didn't translate all that well into the theaters. The relationship you have with your best friends (including Da Brat) is cute and the love/hate thing you have going with Max Beesley is somewhat endearing. But c'mon. At least make a cliché-filled movie that's fun.

But before you run off and have another breakdown, it's not all your fault. Hall's silly attempts at art house cinematography and his under usage of a villainous Terrence Howard were questionable moves, too. Still, the end result is a fairly entertaining chick flick that's a little better than what you may have heard. (C)