We're unsure if Kristen Stewart (of the Twilight saga) was born with that "I'm so over it" expression on her face. What is for certain is that her sulky pout suits this portrayal of Seventies poprock brat Joan Jett down to the ground.
The Runaways were part-manufactured by rock svengali Kim Fowley, who moulded the LA quintet into a libidinous all-girl teen outfit, trading as much on image as on garage-rock din.
Playing opposite Stewart is Dakota Fanning as Cherie Currie, the band's singer who eventually succumbed to LA's hedonism. They cut striking resemblances to Jett and Currie and even break into a sizzle here and there as their romantic bond is tainted by differing career goalposts and substance abuse.
Unfortunately, they are put in the corner during any scene shared with Michael Shannon's rollicking turn as the flamboyant Fowley.
Based on Currie's memoir Neon Angel, The Runaways is a by-numbers rock biopic and throws up few surprises. You've got the precocious ambitions, the absurdly quick rise to proficiency, the fame, the drugs and the bickering. In the last act of the film we see Currie, post-burnout, working in a hardware store and overhearing Jett's globe-gobbling new single I Love Rock 'n' Roll during a radio interview. She calls up the station and awkwardly greets her estranged partner in crime. An abrupt and clumsy coda, but an oddly fitting one too.
The Runaways were part-manufactured by rock svengali Kim Fowley, who moulded the LA quintet into a libidinous all-girl teen outfit, trading as much on image as on garage-rock din.
Playing opposite Stewart is Dakota Fanning as Cherie Currie, the band's singer who eventually succumbed to LA's hedonism. They cut striking resemblances to Jett and Currie and even break into a sizzle here and there as their romantic bond is tainted by differing career goalposts and substance abuse.
Unfortunately, they are put in the corner during any scene shared with Michael Shannon's rollicking turn as the flamboyant Fowley.
Based on Currie's memoir Neon Angel, The Runaways is a by-numbers rock biopic and throws up few surprises. You've got the precocious ambitions, the absurdly quick rise to proficiency, the fame, the drugs and the bickering. In the last act of the film we see Currie, post-burnout, working in a hardware store and overhearing Jett's globe-gobbling new single I Love Rock 'n' Roll during a radio interview. She calls up the station and awkwardly greets her estranged partner in crime. An abrupt and clumsy coda, but an oddly fitting one too.