The Runaways biopic is cool enough

After the first time you watch the new rock biopic The Runaways, it’s hard not to think , “Did I really just see those two girls from The Twilight Saga wolf down streaks of stepped-on coke in the lavatory of a landing Japanese airliner?”

However, once you get over Kristen Stewart’s offense of declining to bring her A-game whenever she’s “Twilight-ing,” you’ll realize there are parts of The Runaways that are almost as impressive and stimulating as the movie’s namesake.

As the story of the formation, rise, and dissolution of the famous all-girl glam/punk outfit The Runaways, director Floria Sigismondi’s feature-length debut has all the obligatory components: modest beginnings, social misfits, lousy parenting, loud music, sex, drugs, harder drugs, weirder sex, band in-fighting, a manipulative record producer, and a respectable helping of ambiguously lezploitational action.

In an interview for Canadian television, Runaway singer/rhythm guitarist Joan Jett said, “If a woman can play a cello, or a violin, and play Beethoven in a symphony orchestra, she can most certainly pick up a guitar and play.” The film does a fine job of depicting her former band’s overindulgence-fueled feminist experiment, using surrealistic sequences, a rock-solid ’70s soundtrack, and fast pacing to carefully blend their improbable breakout triumphs with the battered humanity of the behind-the-scenes undoing of the “Queens of Noise.” With director Sigismondi’s background in photography and indie music videos, she brings a kinetic, darkly multihued touch to the recreations of Runaways live shows, particularly their sold-out Japanese tour. 

The three core performances of the movie are themselves worth the price of viewing. Dakota Fanning, as not-even-legal lead vocalist Cherie Currie, does everything short of drop-kicking a rabid concertgoer to demolish her image as a lovable child star. With her humorless façade and hypersexual stage presence, Fanning subtly reveals Currie’s child-like heart simmering beneath her slow-boil breakdown. As the legendary Joan Jett, Kristen Stewart completely disappears into her role, capturing Jett’s mild hunch, tough-girl appeal, and unrelenting dedication to her craft. Along with her work in Adventureland, Panic Room, and Into the Wild, Stewart has sufficiently demonstrated that her abilities and depth go far beyond mentally taxing vamp-love adaptations.

But the bona fide highlight of the film comes with Michael Shannon’s volatile, fast-talking portrayal of manager/producer Kim Fowley. When Fowley is first managing and co-writing songs with The Runaways, Shannon delivers earthy, Glengarry Glen Ross-worthy rants with the gritty charisma and swagger of a countercultural nihilist. His balance of menace, ruthless business maneuverings, and the occasional kind word is at once devilishly entertaining and riveting.

However, even with all the enjoyable rock ’n roll fun and excess, the film’s missteps and miscalculations are rather substantial.

The superb Alia Shawkat (Maeby Fünke from Arrested Development, to all the cult TV devotees out there) is criminally underutilized, relegated to the cinematic equivalent of visual aid. As a fictional version of The Runaways’ bass player (legal issues barred the representation of bassist Jackie Fox), she’s reduced to barely noticeable screen time consisting of pokerfaced frustration and what seemed like a total of three inconsequential lines of dialogue. 

Furthermore, from the flippant way in which lead guitarist Lita Ford is depicted, you’d probably think she was just another flunky bandmate who would later fall into pop culture obscurity. She actually went on to achieve her own solo star status, releasing airplay-ready tracks such as “Gotta Let Go” and successful albums like Lita.

Many of these narrative shortcomings can be blamed on the film’s relatively short length. Each Runaway’s life story is so fascinating and tabloid-geared that they deserve individual biopic in themselves. And with the ambition of containing the complicated evolution and implosion of The Runaways in a modest running time of 105 minutes, it was practically inevitable that the film would fall short. 

Nonetheless, The Runaways ultimately manages to redeem its weaknesses by staying true to the musical abandon of its subjects and by coasting along on the power of polished acting and some truly scathing dialogue.