In the unfortunately weak Country Strong, Gwyneth Paltrow plays country-and-western singer Kelly

Canter, an alcoholic. She struts, sings, swills, sleeps around and in some truly perilous acting moments,

intended to be rich with metaphor, cradles an orphaned baby bird. Anytime an actress steps this far out of

her comfort zone, without a strong script to support her, she has to hope audiences are on her side. And

they might be, if this were Sandra Bullock, say, or perhaps Jennifer Garner. But this is Paltrow, the

American actress whose achievements seem to have piled up in reverse proportion to the goodwill she

inspires. If there's an opposite of America's Sweetheart, she's it.

How did this happen? Things started off so well. Paltrow earned deserved praise for films like Emma and

Sliding Doors and took home an Oscar at 26 for the winning Shakespeare in Love. A decade ago she

was cool enough for Wes Anderson to cast her in The Royal Tenenbaums, playing the aloof and

miserable Margot. Now that character seems to have leached over into the public perception of Paltrow

herself.Envy would be the first suspect. Paltrow came to Hollywood as a wealthy insider (her mother is Blythe

Danner; the father she lost to cancer in 2002 was director Bruce Paltrow) and dated Brad Pitt and Ben

Affleck before marrying British rock star Chris Martin. She has two adorable children, and though 38, she

is capable of carrying off shorts with 2-in. (5 cm) inseams. She seems perpetually at her physical peak,

which gives her a vibe reminiscent of Dorian Gray. She pals around with Mario Batali, Beyoncé and Jay-Z.

Even her Spanish is pretty.

When word got out that she'd be making a guest appearance on Glee in November, Gleeks viewed this

as an invasion; the woman Britain's Daily Mail once called "the blonde bore" seemed more likely to be a

slushie thrower than a kindred spirit to the glee club's misfits. She then proceeded to turn in such a solid

performance as a suspiciously perfect substitute teacher (a spoof of her own image; clearly she has a

sense of humor) that even her detractors had a hard time denying she was great. Still, the praise had an

edge: the New York Times noted that her performance all but erased the recent perception of her as a

"smug, unbearable scold." Note the all but. The woman who is clearly one of life's winners can't seem to

get ahead in the public-opinion polls.

Is the problem that Paltrow appears superhuman? Actually, no. Thanks to her two-year-old lifestyle

website, Goop.com (she's said Goop is an old nickname), we know just how human she is. For instance,

she sometimes feels compelled to starve herself on miso soup, greens and tidbits of protein for a week to

"detox." On Goop.com we can watch a video of her making guacamole for her children Apple and Moses

and see that it is no more magical or complicated than when we make it. We know that looking as she

does requires her to work out at least 90 minutes a day six days a week, often accompanied by a

personal trainer who used to train her friend Madonna and is now Paltrow's business partner. We know

she likes to shop locally and that she enjoys a bargain (Goop tip: Spanish Cava is much cheaper than

Champagne) as much as she does a "cozy" $1,095 spike-heeled winter boot. Like any celebrity, Paltrow

lives behind glass, but her authorship of Goop takes the tint off her windows. It's like Lifestyles of the Rich

and Famous narrated by the rich, famous and self-congratulatory.

When someone like Chelsea Handler tells Paltrow, as she did during a November interview, "I love you,"

the words carry more than a hint of "I know I'm bucking a trend here." Handler went on to rave about

Paltrow's singing and even suggested she make an album. Paltrow graciously accepted the compliment.

But if she needed it, it didn't show. A lack of humility may be the issue — that and the dangers of taking

your act cross-platform. The very existence of her website suggests Paltrow assumes we are eager to sit

at her knee. She has said she wants to share the wealth of opportunities she's had — from talking novels

with Christy Turlington to staying at the best hotels — and she does, magnanimously, in e-mail

newsletters signed, "love, GP." The implication is, Of course you'd like to be me. Her lifestyle-guru

identity, combined with the cookbook she's got coming out in April, suggests Paltrow aspires to be an

object of emulation, an Oprah with an Oscar.

Yet pop culture has cast her not so much in the role of helpful nurturer as in that of the mother-in-law you

will never be good enough for. She slings that guitar around like a champion in Country Strong, and when

Kelly's onstage, she bravely and astutely taps into the necessary narcissism of a big-time performer. But

neither Paltrow nor writer-director Shana Feste ever make us understand this troubled character in full,

and the personal satisfactions and triumphs of Paltrow (those legs!) cast a long, distracting shadow.

When Kelly's manager-husband James (Tim McGraw) tells her young love interest Beau (Garrett Hedlund, in a performance as alluring as Brad Pitt's in Thelma & Louise) that Kelly "doesn't travel light,"

he's referring to baggage both literal and metaphorical. He might also be talking about Paltrow.