In I Know Who Killed Me, Lohan plays a stripper who's being stalked by a gruesome serial killer—what's not to love? Try a script that's intended to evoke David Lynchian psychosis but conjures up nothing more than uproarious laughter and tireless head-scratching. Add a director, Chris Sivertson, who's clearly seen Dario Argento's Suspiria one too many times, drowning every scene in overdone, loud blue and red color palettes.

Yet, putting all of that negativity aside, I Know Who Killed Me has the kind of entertainment value that most directors of Academy Award hopefuls could only wish to achieve. Give the beleaguered Lohan credit, too, because her performance here, playing enigmatic twins on a homicidal maniac's to-slaughter list, is nothing if not go-for-broke.

That doesn't make her performance any good, of course—most of the time, she's either writhing on a stripper pole (minus any titillation) or enduring gratuitous, overlong torture (minus any sympathy or effective tension). It's a whole lot of self-degradation for nothing but scathing reviews. —MB