I Know Who Killed Me (2007)

... and once you find out, you'll pray for the previous two hours of your life back. This Lindsay Lohan serial killer/psychological thriller is so squirm-inducing awful, it's ... well, hell, it's Lindsay Lohan in a serial killer/psychological thriller. Drink that up. The film's worst feat is not that Lohan plays a stripper who never actually strips, it's that the morons who made wrote and directed this crud were aiming for David Lynch territory. All the signs are high: The splitting of self and psyche, the ever-changing idea of identity and reality, owls, woods, curtains, the evil lurking in small-town America, shocking violence, and the eternal savior of pure love. Every actor looks bored. Every shot looks as if it were made by people who know nothing about form and content, or color hue. Background music appears to have been chosen at random. And Lohan, who thinks she's reached adulthood with this dark material, is just out of her league. F