Worst. Movie. Ever.

I Know Who Killed Me

on July 27, 2007 by Annlee Ellingson
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If there's anything more ridiculous and trashy than the most recent Lindsay Lohan scandal, it's on the 1,320 screens where her latest movie is playing. Shoddily scripted and excessively stylized, I Know Who Killed Me pushes the bounds of what audiences will accept both narratively and aesthetically—and oversteps them in every instance.

When talented pianist-cum-aspiring writer Aubrey Fleming (Lohan) disappears during a night out with friends, her wealthy parents (Julia Ormond and Neal McDonough) and upscale community fear the worst—that she's been kidnapped by the same killer who dismembered another local girl and left her for dead. Discovered on the side of the road a couple of weeks later, Aubrey reveals upon regaining consciousness something even more shocking then her now-missing limbs: She has no idea who Aubrey Fleming is—her name is Dakota Moss.

While her mom and dad, therapist and cops chalk up this disconnect to post-traumatic stress, Dakota sticks to her story, or at least the part she's willing to share: The daughter of a now-dead crack addict, she makes her living as a “hostess” at a “gentleman's club.” Other than differentiating in the starkest terms possible the disparity between these two identical-looking girls, this setup serves little purpose save for protracted, slow-motion scenes in which Lohan seduces a stripper pole in front of a leering audience while remaining pretty well clothed. (Meanwhile, the filmmakers solve the dilemma of what to do with the celebrity starlet they've hired, let's face it, for her looks once they've cut off her arm and leg—turn her into a bionic woman.)

Perhaps fearing moviegoers would be unable to distinguish between bespectacled good-girl Aubrey and slutty bad-girl Dakota, director Chris Sivertson introduces contrasting color schemes of blue and red for the two characters. But what could have served as subtle visual cues quickly become laughably obvious and overbearing—Aubrey's clothes, her room, the bouquet of roses from her boyfriend, even the tools used to torture her are blue, blue, blue, blue. We get it already.

Sivertson's palette isn't the only area in which he's guilty of excess. His camera is constantly on the move, zooming and swooping, and he applies such pointless visual trickery as negative photography. It's an aggressive aesthetic that's confusing and irritating.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey Hammond's script draws on the most cliché horror movie tropes, among them even a fricking hooting owl, for chrissake. At the same time, the screenplays ignores the most basic investigative techniques learned from any primetime procedural drama: Once your vic starts to claim that she's not who she appears to be, just how long does it take to get a blood test? Or discover on her hard drive a piece of crappy genre fiction called “Dakota”? Or check out the strip club she claims as her place of employment (which they never get to, by the way)?

And that doesn't even begin to address the smattering of torture porn, departures from logic and ludicrous plot turns at work here. If Lohan's tabloid antics don't kill her career, I Know Who Killed Me , apparently meant to mark her transition from teenage drama queen to serious adult actress, just might. —Annlee Ellingson
Distributor: Sony
Cast: Lindsay Lohan, Julia Ormond and Neal McDonough
Director: Chris Sivertson
Screenwriter: Jeffrey Hammond
Producer: Frank Mancuso Jr.
Genre: Thriller
Rating: R for grisly violence including torture and disturbing gory images and for sexuality, nudity and language
Running time: 105 min.
Release date: July 27, 2007
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