Dem Reviews: The Runaways

(Special guest reviewer Famous Whitewater blesses us today with his review of this film. Be sure to check out all his hijinks over at Fresno Famous and follow him on Twitter via @FresnoFamous)

“The Runaways” is a mess of a movie that goes nowhere, says nothing and leaves you totally unsatisfied. OK, not totally, but the movie, which runs at 106 minutes, does leave you with more questions than answers. For instance: How does a no-name band of 15-years olds go from practicing in a trailer to headlining shows in Japan? Seriously I’d like to know? Also: is Joan Jett a lesbian? Was she in love with Cherie Currie? Or were they just good friends? Good in all caps. Where most rock biopics seek to completely dissect the lives of our favorite stars, to really lay their souls bare, The Runaways chooses to glam over, well, just about everything. We get a sense that Jett and Currie and whoever else was in the band (oh, right, Lita Ford) are troubled teens (Jett is huffing something in a bag in the opening scenes) we get no sense of the why. It’s a problem that runs throughout the movie. Things roll along with no real purpose. You sit through scenes of the girls playing some house party dodging beer cans, or rolling around on a hotel bed in their underwear (and there’s nothing wrong with any of it, mind you) but you keep waiting for something to happen. Because, duh, we all know the band breaks up. Then it does, and the only reason you care is because you know Joan Jett goes on to write “I Love Rock and Roll” and “I Hate Myself for Loving You.” If you’re not a Jett fan you might not care at all.

Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning do great work as the film’s leads (Joan Jett and Cherie Currie). Stewart might not be playing that far outside her range (if at all), in which case it’s better casting than acting, but either way, it works. Stewart IS Joan Jett. It’s more than the hair. And while it’s a little pervy and off-putting to see cute-little Dakota Fanning all grown up and with a full set of teeth and strutting around next to naked, she pulls it off in a way that doesn’t seem overreaching. But everyone not Stewart of Fanning is pretty much crap. Michael Shannon rages on screen as uber-douche record producer Kim Fowley, but he doesn’t come off as being a major player in the movie (though reading between the lines he should be) so who cares? Of course, maybe none of that matters. This is after all, a rock-and-roll movie, about hot girls and loud guitars, and it has that in spades. You get a good dose of The Runaways hits, but there’s also some Iggy and Gary Glitter and the MC5 doing an awesome version of “It’s a Man’s World.” If you’re a fan of the times, this is all a plus and you’ll probably want to buy the soundtrack (I know I do).

Is it a win for a movie if the worst thing I can say is I am sort of ambivalent? Because while there is a lot wrong with “The Runaways,” it gets enough right to keep it intriguing enough not to hate. In today’s climate could be ringing endorsement, yes?