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David A Stewart: musician, husband of an ex-Bananarama member, and now, it seems, film-maker. All Saints: chart-stormers, men's mag cover stars, and now, it seems, movie stars. Well, that's the idea.
But Honest ain't the one-star disaster you might have expected, especially given the movie's dubious pop pedigree. Thankfully, this isn't an "All Saints movie" - - in the central roles of three cockney sparrah heistesses, the Appletons and Blatt do kind of `act'.
Still, keep hold of your hard-earned cash, unless you're really that desperate to see the girls topless. The Saints are more new-family-on-EastEnders than big-screen standard acting. No, worse than them is Stewart's patchy, badly-paced, credulity-stretching script, and his trying-hard-to-be-arty direction, which even crowbars in a pointless, 20-minute acid trip. Don't be tempted by the fit pop songstresses - this is a missable vanity project.
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