Critic Reviews



Based on 37 critic reviews provided by Metacritic.com
Lovelace may be a movie about a porn star, but it's not pornographic. At least, not sexually.
While “Lovelace” falters a bit, it remains a memorable, unflinching indictment.
Even if a quarter of what Boreman claimed was true, she had a lot more coming to her than a sympathetic hearing and much prettier actress playing her onscreen. She practically deserved an apology from the male sex, and that, in a way, is what this movie is.
Perfectly capturing the tenor of the times and the grimy underworld of the porn industry, Lovelace is the kind of movie you'll appreciate and respect but never enjoy.
Given all the ways a project like this could have gone wrong, the result is surprisingly good on several fronts, beginning with a shrewd structure that fosters an intelligent dual perspective on the public and private aspects of the Deep Throat phenomenon.
It's too short to do justice to its subject, but in an era when young women build careers and get rich off “secret” sex tapes that somehow make their way onto the Internet, maybe that's all this subject deserves. Lovelace was but an aberration, an amusing, then quaintly grim footnote on our way to a Paris Hilton/Kim Kardashian future.
Cameo appearances by everyone from James Franco (as Hugh Hefner, putting the moves on Lovelace at her own premiere) to Hank Azaria (as a film "investor") dot the grimy landscape.
Though Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman's handsomely mounted period piece evokes the era with impressive detail, Lovelace's journey remains difficult to tell.
New York Magazine (Vulture)
Lovelace is a respectable job, but it never goes deep.
Seyfried works hard for your empathy, with the same naïveté that helped secure Boreman's rep as the ''sexy Raggedy Ann.'' And Sarsgaard is perfect for this role, oozing '70s sleaze in all its mustache-smoothing glory. But even they can't add depth to this sad story.
Lovelace is a timid gloss over on a hardcore subject - a movie that takes a wild true story and shoehorns it into a formulaic mold.
There aren't many bright spots in Lovelace, although one is Amanda Seyfried's intoxicating smile, and another is the retinal insult delivered by a 16mm projector flaring out at the audience during the movie's opening moments, and which feels like an accusation. It's the odd film that indicts you just for watching. But Lovelace is an eccentric piece of cinema, made by unlikely people.
We pity Linda, but it's no substitute for understanding her.
The superficial script doesn't go nearly deep enough to begin explaining Lovelace.
A 90-minute biography can't include everything, of course. But Lovelace comes on like an inquiry into the '70s zeitgeist, only to retreat into melodrama. Ultimately, the movie relies as heavily as any porn feature on its intrepid female lead. Rather than exploiting Seyfried, however, Lovelace just sort of wastes her.
Lovelace is a lackluster, skin-deep biopic.
Don't look to this skin-deep biopic to offer any insights beyond the head-slappingly superficial.
Lovelace, ahem, blows it. The narrative rewind gives us new facts and a whole heap of crying scenes, but no added insight into Linda's mind-she's still as empty as an inflatable toy.
Lost in the music, mustaches, and furniture of the early '70s, this docudrama of a porn star's exploitation isn't nearly painful enough.
Reducing an immensely disturbing, politically byzantine tale to a series of cartoonish vignettes, this celeb-studded biopic squanders a gutsy performance by Amanda Seyfried.
Just as the frequent cutaways from sexual activity tone down the titillation, Lovelace never garners the energy to construct a fully involving melodrama, rarely rising above Lifetime movie standards. Given the material, the irony here is that the filmmakers play it too safe.

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