Review: I Know Who Killed Me

I Know Who Killed Me

To Lindsay Lohan: I know what you did last summer (and this summer). I know why the caged bird sings (and stars in movies). And now, I know who killed me. You did, Ms. Lohan, with your hilarious new film. In what should have been titled, “I Was a Teenage Stripper,” a saintly suburbanite escapes a serial killer, only to shock her parents with a tawdry new persona. It's all an excuse for the nubile starlet to exhibit virtually every last freckle, before shrieking and whimpering while some nutjob cuts her limbs off. This torture-porn yields comic returns, first when our recovering heroine is fitted with Luke Skywalker's robot hand by an oddly fashionable medical technician. The robot leg comes with the helpful advice, “Don't forget to plug it in,” and enables a no-stump bump with the wide-eyed boyfriend while Mom maniacally scrubs the shame off her kitchen sink. Though the amputee-stripper archetype is surely as old as Lord Byron, this year it calls to mind Grindhouse, especially the sleazy pole dance opening. And like the recent Mr. Brooks, Lohan's opus is best appreciated as a luridly loony psycho-potboiler, complete with creepy dolls, hooting owls, hysterical housefraus, smug shrinks, people with jackets that say “FBI” on the back squinting at laptops, and a ridiculous doozy of a twist.

I Know Who Killed Me is rated R. It opens today at Lloyd Mall 8, Evergreen Parkway, Division Street, Eastport 16, Cedar Hills Crossing, and Bridgeport Village.

Official I Know Who Killed Me site: www.iknowwhokilledme.com