NOTE: This is a reprint of my review from the Sundance Film Festival.
Although nearly everyone has heard of the 1972 hit porn film Deep Throat, there's a better than average chance that the story of its star, Linda Lovelace, has gone unnoticed. Essentially the world's first porn crossover star, the short time she spent in the adult film industry was marked by incredible celebrity, abuse, and decades of regret. Lovelace, directed by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman, the duo behind the Allen Ginsberg biopic Howl, get a capable performance from star Amanda Seyfried, but thin characterization and lack of any real insight doom the project from the start.
The film opens with an unconvincing montage of news outlets exploring
Lovelace's cultural impact, intercut with the mopey porn star staring off into
the distance, apparently deep in thought over the same idea. Then it's a jump
into Lovelace's strict Florida upbringing, where her innocence is kept under
lock and key by her overzealous mother (a haggard Sharon Stone) and blue collar
dad (Robert Patrick). We learn that she wasn't always so innocent, and that
side of her is fed into by a chance meeting with Chuck Traynor (Peter
Sarsgaard), who charms his way into her life and begins to corrupt her slowly
from within. 
What unfolds next is basically a stripped down, less effective version of Paul
Thomas Anderson's classic, Boogie Nights. Going beyond mere homage, the
script flat out cribs whole portions from it in depicting Lovelace's entry into
the porn world. Hank Azaria and Bobby Cannavale play two scummy fixtures of the
industry, who nearly pop their cork when Traynor shows them a video tape of her
oral expertise. Landing the lead role in Deep Throat, Lovelace consistently
chooses her burgeoning celebrity over supposed misgivings and Traynor's
degrading physical abuse. 
The film never holds her responsible for anything, blaming Traynor or her
parents for the choices she made. Whenever they begin to get close as to
Lovelace's actual role in her own life, the script bails her out by jumping
forward in time a few years. For a biopic that is ostensibly about the changes
she made in her life after Deep Throat, we don't actually see much of
it, nor do we learn anything new except nothing was ever her fault.
Stylishly shot and including the expected number of 1970s rock hits, it all
feels like the directors are merely marking boxes on a checklist. The campy
script gives way to campy performances from a plethora of celebrities making
distracting cameos, including James Franco in a laughable appearance as Hugh
Hefner. Seyfried holds up well in the most adult role she's had yet, but she
gets little help from Sarsgaard, who is in full one-note monster mode. Even his
afro and muttonchops are angry. At one point there were two Linda Lovelace biopics being developed at the same time, but this film proves she's simply not interesting enough to carry one feature, let alone a pair of them.
