Rock biopics most often live or die on the strength and longevity of the music of their subjects, and this is a problem right from the outset in this case.
The Runaways were a proto-Riot Grrrl band in late Seventies America who were doubtless influential for their lairy trailblazing, but have left no musical legacy, at least on this side of the pond, beyond founder member Joan Jett's one international hit during her later solo career. The songs are Sex Pistols performed by a Suzi Quatro with teenage anger-management issues, and nowhere near as good as either of those influences.
But then Andy Warhol was an artist in name only, and yet still worthy of a retrospective simply for the circus built up around him, and so it is with these protagonists. The film does realise that the point of interest is the phenomenon and not the creation, and handles the vicissitudes of an exploitative industry and the damage wreaked on girls ill-equipped to handle the whole rock star package with an assured touch, but there's really little to detain the casual passer-by.
5/10
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