The worst part of watching Sparkle was coming to the realisation that as a nation, we appear to have learned nothing from Glitter. It’s time to face the fact that singer-turned-actors appearing in films headed by one-word titles of adjectives usually used to describe jewellery are not a good idea. Not since Mariah Carey’s unfortunate first foray into feature-film have we seen the age-old rags-to-riches trope done such a disservice. To refer to this film as a poor man’s Dreamgirls is to pay it a compliment it doesn’t deserve.
Crack is whack, and so is this film.
So you’re drunk. You had one too many at Pizza Express or wherever, and now you’re in the cinema, and you are drunk. And you have FEELINGS. About this film. That you are watching. You may or may not swear at the screen, but whatever you say (you don’t remember in the morning) it is loud. You are swiftly removed from the cinema, and never permitted to return. Dark times. Enter Movie Interruption Screenings.
Whitney talks about her upcoming comeback film Sparkle before her death. Come to think of it, is there such a thing as a posthumous comeback?