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Lohan’s new movie one of the worst of the year
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Lohan’s new movie one of the worst of the year
There’s a fresh candidate in the running for worst movie of 2007 honors.
“I Know Who Killed Me,” a ridiculous thriller (minus the thrills) starring the embattled Lindsay Lohan in a dual role, has all the hallmarks necessary for qualification: A nonsensical plot that grows sillier by the second, tawdry special effects, heavy-handed symbolism that’s big on electric-blue hues and mechanical performances are all culprits as far as the title’s concerned.
We’ll probably never know whether Lohan’s most recent difficulties took their toll on the picture’s box office potential, because either way, this movie doesn’t even warrant one star. It was released on Friday without screening in advance for critics.
Lohan plays Aubrey Fleming, an aspiring writer and promising pianist who disappears one evening while out with friends only to turn up in a hospital minus a hand and a leg after barely escaping from a madman’s torture chamber.
When her distraught parents (Julia Ormond, Neal McDonough) rush to her side while guys in FBI T-shirts methodically hunt for her would-be killer, she doesn’t recognize the name they call her, insisting that she’s Dakota Moss, a pole dancer in a seedy strip joint who subsequently has reason to believe she may actually be Aubrey’s identical twin sister.
Don’t even ask.
You might, however, find yourself asking just what was Lohan — whose promising career already has taken a few hits with such films as “Just My Luck” and “Georgia Rule” — thinking when she signed on to this nonsense?
Maybe she was attracted to playing two parts for the price of one, having already shown a knack for duality in those “Parent Trap” and “Freaky Friday” remakes.
Whatever the reason, Lohan, harshly lit throughout much of the film, finds herself fighting a losing battle as she attempts to breathe some sort of life into an alter ego character that already has serious credibility issues.
It’s also curious how she’s the only stripper in the place who gets to keep all her clothes on while strutting her stuff, and the grisly clientele doesn’t seem to mind.
But that’s the least of the problems with Jeffrey Hammond’s script and Chris Sivertson’s pretentious direction, which signals the identity of the real killer so early on in the game, you’re sure it has to be a red — or, make that blue — herring.
And whatever remaining subtlety somehow managed to escaped Sivertson’s attention in this HD film is effectively blasted into oblivion by Joel McNeely’s bombastic, derivative score.

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Jul 28, 2007 17:34pm PDT

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