
Last night was the much anticipated premiere of Liz & Dick, the biopic of Elizabeth Taylor and... one of her husbands. It doesn't matter, because all eyes were on Lindsay, and not in a good way. Early word was that the film is dreadful, and so is Lindsay's performance. You all know that I love Lindsay and just want the best for her. Was she really that bad? Seriously, this is a Lifetime made-for-TV movie. Let's be realistic with our expectations. Vulture, my go-to site for reviews, already pegged it as horrible and not in a good way:
The contrarian in me would love to tell you that Liz & Dick is not that bad – that it has redeeming qualities, or that it's a parody of mediocre TV biopics. Alas, no: it's just bad-bad. Specifically, it's retro-bad – a compact yet still lumbering TV biopic that, back in the day, might have starred Kate Jackson and Richard Chamberlain and been filmed on whatever Dynasty sets were available that month.Let's all realize that it's a Lifetime movie! Of course she is going to ham it up! Let's blame the awful screenwriter, not Lindsay!
I fear that Lindsay will never be given a chance. She tries to do satire like Machete, she doesn't catch a break. She does something sublime and meta like The Canyons, people are already predicting failure. Here she is doing something that is a snarky hipster's dream, something that can become a cult classic, and she's being panned.
I think that everyone wanted it to be bad because we could get some clever live tweets about it. It's not about her, it's about who can be the most clever. Here are some highlights from Twitter. Although clever, my heart dies a little bit every time I laugh. Here are some of the best from my timeline:

I first read American Psycho in 1998 when I was still in college, and it blew my mind. I was a women's studies major, so I was conflicted with my obsession over this novel. One of the most violent, misogynist, graphic novels ever suddenly made me fall in love with literature. The author, Bret Easton Ellis, became a literary sensation at age twenty-one with the nihilist, depressing Less Than Zero, which established him as the author with the monopoly on writing about the empty, self-loathing of the incredibly wealthy and good-looking. I quickly devoured his four other novels, chastising myself that it took so long for me to discover my literary god.
Amanda Bynes has not had it good for the past few months:
And in one of the most exciting Hollywood casting announcements, he 



