This movie made Appellate Judge Tom Becker want to sit right down and write Lindsay Lohan a little letter.
Our review of I Know Who Killed Me (Blu-Ray), published November 27th, 2007, is also available.
"She knew how to turn her life into a movie and watch things happen. Not to her, but to a girl who looked just like her."
Lindsay, we hardly knew ye.
Or maybe we got to know ye too well.
It seems that one minute, you were this cute and promising star of tomorrow, adding your own special spark to a successful string of Disney remakes; but then, the next minute, you were "Firecrotch," hard-partying trash girl, gossip Godsend, text-messaging moron. Your wicked and silly ways got you in trouble with the law—and worse, with Hollywood! Powerful people actually denounced you. The critics were loaded for bear when your film Georgia Rule was released, and there was a sense of disappointment when it turned out to be merely mediocre. People were expecting an embarrassing disaster.
But you didn't let us down, Linds. It seems you made a conscious effort to go out and find the worst project you could to appease your increasingly bloodthirsty fans, and if I Know Who Killed Me doesn't satisfy connoisseurs of celluloid atrocity, then nothing will.
This was on purpose, right, Linds? You set out to make a bad movie. You had to. I mean, you didn't read this script and think, "Hey, this'll put me back on top! I'll play a pole dancer who wears more clothes than a Benedictine nun! And, I'll also play a high school girl who's a writer! I know about writers. I saw that movie about Sylvia Plath. Wow, two characters, just like The Parent Trap and Freaky Friday! And look, here's all these scenes where I get dismembered! That'll give me a chance to show my range! I can scream when someone cuts off a limb, 'cause that hurts, right? And I can scream when I think someone's going to cut off a limb, because that shows fear. I'll probably be up for a Golden Globe, maybe two Golden Globes, because it's two parts! Yeah, two Golden Globes! Take that, Perez Hilton!"
That's not what you were thinking, was it, Linds?
Tell us you did this as a goof.
Or did you lose a bet with Britney Spears, and it was either make this movie or marry K-Fed so she could stop paying support?
I'll bet that's it. That would explain why you seem so annoyed in every scene. Of course, that could just be what the director told you to do, because everyone in the movie only acts one way. Julia Ormond, who plays your mom—and is looking mighty hot, by the way, proving it pays to get a good night's sleep (hint, hint)—well, she must have been told to pretend she's a really nervous person who just ran out of Xanax, because she jitters and barks like Paris Hilton's little dog (Tinkerbelle, right?), except later, when she acts like she's gotten her hands on some Demerol. And Brian Geraghty, who plays your boyfriend, seemed to enjoy your pretend-to-be-naked sex scene (yes, Lindsay, we can see the black sports bra when you pull the sheet up), but is English his primary language? It sounds like he's saying his lines phonetically, like those guys from ABBA.
And Lindsay, we understand you're probably not real fond of the police, but was it your idea to make them seem like idiots? The Keystone Cops had better investigation techniques. I mean, here we have this story where this nice, polite girl disappears, then she turns up missing a leg and a hand saying she's not the nice girl, she's a stripper with a different name, and these cops never think to check out her story or test everybody's DNA or fingerprints or look for birth records? You know, Breathalyzer isn't the only tool they have at their disposal.
Now, I know you didn't write this thing, but you must have read it at some point. Couldn't you have tried to talk some sense into these people, Linds? I mean, you're the star, right?
And, Linds, you do look good in blue, but what was up with that business of everything popping out blue? Flowers and scalpels and torture instruments and the football team and the lights…I wonder if multiple viewings of this film would cause cataracts. Just kidding, Linds, I don't think anyone's going to watch this more than once.
I must say, though, Linds, that while the movie, well, blew (not the color), the folks at Sony must love some you. First off, they didn't make you or anyone else do a commentary or an interview, you know, one of those things where you sit around and talk about what a great experience this was and how proud you are of the movie. Nope, the only extras they give us are a few seconds worth of a different opening and closing, a longer scene of you dancing around with your clothes on, and a blooper reel, which was funny, because I thought the whole movie was a blooper reel. Lindsay, I'm kidding.
And they gave you a pretty good-looking transfer, Linds. Those blues do pop, though it looks like the tech people might have gotten bored at some point, because around the 90-minute mark, we have a few minutes where things look speckly and a bit washed out. Of course, with all the crazy color effects, that might have been intentional. They also give us the option of watching wide- or full-screen versions.
We can hear you real good too, Linds, and because we get a 5.1 surround track, we can hear all the other noises too, you know the whispering and street sounds and all that carving-off-limbs-and-digits stuff that sounds like someone cutting up a watermelon with a spoon. And the indie pop and otherwise standard incidental music track doesn't drown out one precious word of dialogue, although in the big "near-reveal scene" with you and Ormond, you guys sound a little distorted, like you were sitting too close to the microphones.
Now, Lindsay, I don't want you to think I'm picking on you or anything, but let's face it: If you hadn't made this movie, nobody would have made this movie. I don't think Mandy Moore and Evan Rachel Wood were exactly chomping at the bit to get their bits chomped off in this blue-tinged atrocity. And since you are the "name" here, you need to take some responsibility.
Just don't think I'm trying to stigmata-tize you or anything.
That's a joke, Lindsay.
But this isn't.
Your movie is very, very guilty.
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