Once upon a time — before MTV, before hits by the Clash became elevator music, when baby boomers were taking Quaaludes instead of breaking hips — rock ‘n’ roll was something amazingly raw and filthy.
If you go
‘The Runaways’
3 out of 5 Stars
Stars: Dakota Fanning, Kristen Stewart, Michael Shannon
Director: Floria Sigismondi
Rated R for language, drug use and sexual content — all involving teens
Running time: 102 minutes
“The Runaways” tells the story of a minor cog in the punk movement. Now remembered for being the first all-girl band of real rockers, the Runaways left behind only one enduring song: “Cherry Bomb.” The detail and trajectory behind the group’s rise and fall are trivial and predictable, which limits the movie, finally. But director-writer Floria Sigismondi (a video maker) captures with vigorous, sticky-floored authenticity both the exuberance and the destructiveness of a very particular slice of life. It will be a special revelation to two factions: those oldsters with (by definition) hazy recollections of experiencing the Runaways’ era firsthand, and younger viewers who will see Dakota Fanning and “Twilight” series star Kristen Stewart gleefully trashing their previous images.
Music aficionados know the Runaways best as the 1970s entity that spawned the 1980s pop star Joan Jett, credited as an executive producer of the film. Stewart really sings and dons Jett’s old feathered shag hairdo and electric guitar with appropriate, androgynous swagger.
But Sigismondi based “The Runaways” movie on blonder-than-blond lead singer Cherie Currie’s 1989 autobiography “Neon Angel.” The script focuses mainly on her, as played by a now-teenage Miss Fanning.
The child actor gives the most complete and thrilling performance of her career. It’s a tour de force, however, that may shock her fans. There’s America’s little sweetie all grown up as trailer trash tart: half-naked, legs akimbo, blasted out of her gourd, belting out profane lyrics (no lip-synching) and hooking up with both genders.
The plot traces how the gals in the band came together. They caught on thanks to their eccentric manager Kim Fowley, played like a mix between Mick Jagger and a deranged Batman villain by Michael Shannon. Before long, the tension over selling the band through Currie’s sex appeal competes with the legitimate artistic intentions of the other bandmates. And, like an episode of VH1’s former series “Behind the Music,” it will implode from a toxic mix of ego, immaturity and drug-fueled debauchery.
“The Runaways” plays best as trippy time capsule for the mid-’70s reincarnation of rock’s rebellious origins. It was a sweaty, vulgar, transformative thing. In fact, Jett got rich years later by singing about how she loved it.
