I Know Who Killed Me

star

A movie review by James Berardinelli



I Know Who Killed Me

THRILLER:

United States, 2007

U.S. Release Date:

2007-07-27

Running Length:

1:45

MPAA Classification:

R (Violence, Profanity, Sexual Situations, Nudity)

Theatrical Aspect Ratio:

2.35:1

Cast:

Lindsay Lohan, Julia Ormond, Neal McDonough, Gregory Itzin, Garcelle Beauvais-Nilon, Brian Geraghty

Director:

Chris Sivertson

Screenplay:

Jeffrey Hammond

Cinematography:

John R. Leonetti

Music:

Joel McNeely

U.S. Distributor:

TriStar Pictures

Subtitles:

none


It has not been a good week for Lindsay Lohan. First, she does irreparable damage to her image by engaging in the sort of irresponsible and self-destructive behavior we have come to expect from her. Then she is "portrayed" on The Tonight Show by the terminally unfunny Rob Schneider. Finally, to add insult to injury, she shows up on screen in a crapfest called I Know Who Killed Me, which holds the dubious distinction of not only being a surefire member of the end-of-the-year Bottom 10 but easily marks the worst movie Lohan has appeared in and the worst performance she has given. Her participation in I Know Who Killed Me should be Exhibit A for the prosecution: only someone with impaired faculties could agree to star in this movie.

There's a temptation to label I Know Who Killed Me as "so bad it's good." But that wouldn't be accurate. In fact, this picture is "so bad it's bad." It's too tedious to be worth consideration as campy fun. Despite it's 105-minute running time, it feels longer than Titanic. If there's a reason to see the film, it's to understand the absurd lengths to which an inexperienced screenwriter will go to provide twists. But, as dumb as nearly every plot contrivance in I Know Who Killed Me is, there's not an unpredictable moment to be found. Every "surprise" is a cliché. To figure out which one is going to be used next, simply imagine the silliest thing the plot could do, then watch it happen. Armed with that knowledge and a description of the first few scenes, you could probably map out the entire story.

There's little to recommend in the movie, which I would probably turn off if I stumbled across it during a late night cable channel surfing expedition. The script is atrocious. Director Chris Sivertson tries to do bad David Lynch. The acting, which is provided by has-beens and TV supporting players, is about what you would expect from such a noble group. Lohan is by far the worst offender - if only because she once showed so much promise - but she has plenty of company. The production design is cheesy, the special effects aren't convincing (most of them involve gore), and the music repeatedly calls attention to itself (and not in a good way).

For those two people who have not already seen Lindsay Lohan naked, this is not your opportunity. Why? Because she plays a stripper and, as has been established, strippers no longer take their clothes off in movies. On the other hand, Lohan's character drinks, does drugs, spits out four-letter words, and sleeps around, so one has to wonder why the performance is so bad. Maybe it has something to do with the gore. During the course of the film, she graphically loses a leg and several fingers. The bloodletting is so extreme that one wonders whether the movie should be categorized by the term "thriller" or "horror." Either way, "crap" is more colorful and accurate.

Lohan is Aubrey Fleming, a straight-A high school student who disappears one night after watching a school football game. Her vanishing worries her parents (Neal McDonough, Julia Ormond) and her always-horny boyfriend (Brian Geraghty). Enter the incompetent cops - people who tried out for but couldn't get jobs in Reno:911 and Hot Fuzz. They suspect a serial killer. Luck comes to their aid when Aubrey is found alive, albeit missing a few body parts. She also appears deluded or suffering from amnesia or having given birth to a second personality. She doesn't know who Aubrey is - she claims to be stripper and prostitute Dakota Moss. To prove that she's not good little virginal Aubrey, she smokes like a chimney, says all those nasty cuss words, and rides the boyfriend till he's worn out. So is Dakota really Aubrey? Or is something David Lynchian going on? Or has Lindsay decided to hearken back to the good old days when she starred in The Parent Trap? The answer is so moronic that it will cause your eyeballs to roll back in your head.

Not too long ago, I thought Georgia Rule would be Lohan's nadir but, compared to this, that's a veritable masterpiece. Thankfully, unless she does Captivity II, she probably can't sink lower. Without the dubious distinction of having Lohan's name on the marquee, this would have gone directly to DVD, never passing go or collecting the little more than $200 it will make during its one and only weekend in multiplexes. Unless you derive pleasure from watching Lohan being tortured, there's no reason to subject yourself to this movie. Besides, if that's your goal, all you have to do is turn on tabloid TV. There's Lindsay's living hell of a life, being broadcast 24/7.





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