Honey tries to apply for membership in at least three cliché-ridden subgenres: the nonmusical dance musical (complete with putting on a benefit show), the rise-and-fall-and-rise showbiz story, and the urban issues drama. The result is a movie that goes every which way but good, careening from scenes that all revolve around the same character but don't quite interlock. And so Honey is also a movie unsure not only of genre, but of what kind of bad movie it is: hilarious, dull, or an earnest near-miss.

This is what happens when you produce a vanity project for someone who hasn't quite graduated to B-movie star yet. Nothing against Jessica Alba; she's cute, she can dance okay, and she was pretty good on that FOX sci-fi show a few years ago. (No, not MANTIS. Or Strange Luck. Or VR-5. Or Millennium. Or even Tru Calling.) But her performance in Honey reminded me of a singer trying to act -- and Alba, as far as I know, isn't a singer.

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