Complaining that the plot in "Hannah Montana: The Movie" is a ridiculous trope used to string together concert and singing sequences is like complaining that Twinkies have no nutritional value.

Some things you just have to accept going in. You don't eat a Twinkie to lose weight, and you don't see this film to challenge yourself emotionally or intellectually.

You see it because you are a 12-year-old girl. Or, ahem, a parent of one. And somewhere along the line you have to acknowledge that, in the same way Twinkies really do taste good, Miley Cyrus really is a star.

Not a movie star. And not a rock star, not exactly. She just has that star presence, that near-indefinable something that draws people to her, most of them pre-adolescents who are screaming. They'll get their money's worth here, I suppose, but everyone else will have to work for it.

"Hannah Montana: The Movie" is basically a two-hour, Very Special Episode of "Hannah Montana," the Disney Channel television show that launched Miley Cyrus on an unsuspecting world. For the uninitiated, Miley is a good ol' girl from Tennessee who has made it big as a teen singer. But, so that she might grow up normally, she and her father, Robby Ray (Billy Ray Cyrus, her real life dad and the man who popularized "Achy Breaky Heart," though all is forgiven), came up with an alias: Hannah Montana.

Nothing abnormal about that.

Only her family and closest friends know Miley's secret. So while the crowds go nuts for Hannah, Miley is just an average teenage girl. Not exactly "Masterpiece Theatre," but it is cute, sweet and, unlike some other Disney Channel shows, the back talk to the parents and the smart-aleck attitudes are kept to a minimum.

In the film, the Hannah side of her personality is taking over. She's hired Vita (Vanessa Williams), a publicist, who encourages the growing diva-like behavior that is increasingly annoying to her father, her brother Jackson (Jason Earles) and her best friend, Lilly (Emily Osment). A catfight with Tyra Banks in an expensive clothing store in which they go at each other hammer and tongs over a pair of shoes is the last straw.

Drastic measures are called for; so Robby Ray tricks her into going back to her home town of Central Casting, er, Crowley Corners, Tenn., ostensibly for her grandmother's birthday, but also to get in touch with her roots. (Robby Ray for some reason maintains a mean-spirited dissatisfaction with most of Miley's decisions throughout. Weird.)

The town is full of lovable characters — Rascal Flatts sings on the porch — and, what ho, there's a boy there. Travis (Lucas Till), a first-rate hunk who went to first grade with Miley, is working for her grandmother for the summer. Teen romance looms.

No one but family in Crowley Corners knows Miley's secret. The town is in trouble, needing a big infusion of cash. If only someone knew a big rock star for a fundraiser. ...

It's all predictable, most of it's poorly acted and the back-and-forth between serious scenes and absurdist slapstick as bizarre as anything this side of an old "Green Acres" episode is dizzying. But when Hannah — or Miley — steps up to the mike, it's a different story. It doesn't matter if you like her songs. She commands the screen when she is singing. And for the core audience, that's more than enough.