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“Lovelace” lacks the nerve to adhere to the standard practice of biography, resulting in a film that purports to respect its subject without fully taking her side.

Lovelace’s life is given a strikingly thoughtful treatment here... Lovelace tells a difficult story creditably, yet its period detail has the effect of distancing the story, and its heroine remains an enigma... it would require a longer, more complex film to delve into [her] depths.

Linda [Lovelace's] feelings are hardly revealed... Seyfried is fine but has little character depth to work with: Sarsgaard impresses with a more complex character, as does a barely recognisable Sharon Stone as Linda’s bitter mother. If only the whole film were as well-rounded.

Whatever possibilities Seyfried may have as an actress are eradicated by the filmmakers’ strategy of making their heroine-victim a woman without will, direction, ideas, temperament, unintentionally following the scheme of classic pornography... The movie, at its center, remains unawakened.

"Lovelace" seems meticulously researched and passionately written... Unfortunately, despite its passion and purpose, it's executed with so many wrong, false, stale and routine creative decisions... [The few] scattered moments of heat and light just don't add up to a forceful or vital movie about a subject that deserves one.

There’s a lot in this story about victimization and agency that Mr. Epstein and Mr. Friedman never satisfactorily address... Once the movie flips to present Linda’s take on the same events, it grows grim and then grimmer, which may do justice to her story even as it fails to illuminate the woman [she] was.

Seyfried’s performance is the best thing about the film by miles, it’s just a shame there isn’t more to her role... It’s a weird paradox: Seyfried’s Lovelace gets a lot of screen time, but rarely to herself. Instead she’s there for things to happen to... Rarely does she display any agency of her own.

[Epstein and Friedman] attempt to give both Lindas equal weight by telling the story twice. But that just makes it seem as if they can't make up their minds. And since the two parts aren't that different in tone or style, Lovelace mostly plays like a standard biopic.

Unlike the far superior Boogie Nights, Lovelace ignores the transitions and temptations that led Linda into a trap. Seyfried could have acted the hell out of that. Instead, Linda’s ordeal, from which it took her years to escape, becomes an ordeal for the audience.

[Lovelace] gets about halfway to being a great movie about an ambiguous cultural icon, and then gets stuck between modes: Partly it’s a good-times-gone-wrong period fable in the vein of “Boogie Nights,” “The People vs. Larry Flynt” or “Goodfellas,” and partly it’s a classed-up Lifetime melodrama about a woman who’s victimized and prostituted by a powerful husband.

Instead of following a star’s downward descent, the film goes back to the beginning and shows us how things are already wrong, too wrong, and what’s more, that they’ve been wrong this entire time. As a meditation on domestic abuse, victimhood and survivor martyrdom, the making of Deep Throat... might strike some as too on the nose, an analogy in which sex and evil are inexorably linked. But to leave Lovelace with that impression is to miss the point completely.

Lovelace is a straight­forward story of victimhood enlivened by fun seventies montage... and some big yet finely tuned performances... Lovelace is a respectable job, but it never goes deep.