Hannah Montana: The Movie

For the uncool and uninformed, Hannah Montana is the alter-ego of a fictional teenager called Miley Stewart who’s played by a real teenager called Miley Cyrus whose father is famous country singer Billy Ray Cyrus who raised her in Tennessee and now plays her on-screen father Robby Ray Stewart who also raised his daughter in Tennessee and not in Montana, as you might expect.

The other thing you should know is that, in the same way that nobody can tell that Clark Kent is Superman when he puts on his specs, brunette Miley renders herself unrecognisable from Hannah simply by wearing a blonde wig.

All clear? Good, let’s get this show on the road.

After Miley/Hannah unwittingly steals the limelight at a party for her best friend Lilly (Osment), daddy Robby Ray decides to give her a break from her crazy Californian life by taking her to see the folks back home in leafy Crowley Corners.

Initially unhappy at leaving her worldly goods behind, Miley changes her tune at the sight of her old pony and laid-back farmhand Travis (Lucas Till).

But just as she’s getting used to the Hannah-free life, up pops a sneaky reporter from an English tabloid who's determined to get the scoop on Hannah’s secret.

To make matters worse, along comes a property developer who intends to turn the rickety old town into some sort of… property development.

How in heckfire can the good people of Crowley possibly raise enough money to keep their land? Why, that'd mean getting a pop superstar to come and put on a concert or something...

Nearly two decades after making his debut with Hear My Song, a sweet little whimsy about a small community with a fake singer in its midst, Blackpool-born director Peter Chelsom finds himself staging a sweet-ish, mega-whimsy about a small community with... hmm.

As producer Billy Ray must appreciate, it’s the sort of career progression to give anyone an achy breaky heart.

Anyone old enough to have a National Insurance number may find this determinedly formulaic fan-pleaser like sticking their heads in a candy-floss machine before being dragged through a field of corn.

Its key comedy sequence is ripped off from Mrs Doubtfire - never an encouraging sign. And to say that it's a showcase for the singing talents of its young star, some of the lip-synching is decidedly off.

Still, it looks great and, more importantly, gives the kids exactly what they want – bags of slapstick, a barnful of toe-tapping numbers, and a relentlessly peppy turn from a globe-conquering cutie who really is a legend on her own lunchbox.

Let’s hope she enjoys it while it lasts. Because if she grows up to be anything like certain other Disney starlets, she’ll soon be shaving her head, marrying her backing dancers and forgetting to wear underwear in public.

Until then, her secret’s safe with us.

Elliott Noble