It is a premise that sounds as if it would appeal to thrill master Alfred Hitchcock, or at the least one of his imitators like Brian De Palma.

A young college student, Aubrey Fleming (Lindsay Lohan), disappears one evening while out with friends. Almost three weeks later she’s discovered in a roadside ditch, severally tortured – her right hand and leg are mangled beyond saving – and nearly comatose. Upon waking in the hospital, she professes to be Dakota Moss, an amnesiac stripper with no knowledge of what has happened to her.

Unfortunately, a promising premise quickly degenerates as Dakota investigates what happened to her, eventually developing a ludicrous theory that she and Aubrey are twins separated at birth and that they now share a weird psychic link that gives her the same wounds that are being inflicted on Aubrey by her captor.

It’s here that things spiral rapidly out of control until the film implodes under the weight of its own illogical plotting and just outright stupidity. The plodding and obvious direction doesn’t help matters, either. If you can’t figure out who the villain of the piece is, then you’ve slept through their obvious introductory scene, which may actually be a blessing in disguise.

While it is understood that some suspension of disbelief is required for most films, I Know Who Killed Me simply demands too much suspension from its audience.

After appearing in remakes of The Parent Trap (1998) and Freaky Friday (2003) it is easy to see the allure of a more adult multi-role project for Lohan to stretch her acting muscles in. Unfortunately, she does little to differentiate Aubrey and Dakota in physical manners or dialogue delivery. Dakota is supposed to be much more sexually promiscuous than Aubrey, but Lohan fails to make any of these scenes sizzle.

I suppose an argument could be made that the entire Dakota section, with its increasingly ridiculous plot twists, could be viewed as a fantasy constructed by Aubrey as way of escaping the reality of her torture. But such an argument would only be an attempt to excuse the inexcusable.

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About Rich Drees 7153 Articles
A film fan since he first saw that Rebel Blockade Runner fleeing the massive Imperial Star Destroyer at the tender age of 8 and a veteran freelance journalist with twenty-five years experience writing about film and pop culture. He is a member of the Philadelphia Film Critics Circle.
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