Queens of Noise
Monday, July 5, 2010
Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning prove they are the Queens Of Noise in a biopic about 70s all-girl rock band The Runaways (original band pictured below).
The career of The Runaways was short lived, spanning only five years, but the impact they had on the music industry was immense. The all-girl teenage rock band helmed six albums and several hit singles such as Cherry Bomb, Queens Of Noise and Born To Be Bad, and helped shape female rock icon Joan Jett. Yet it was a dirty, tumultuous ride as shown in The Runaways, the directorial debut from Floria Sigismondi.
Set in Southern California in the mid-70s, Joan Jett (Kristen Stewart) is a shy and sulky glue-sniffer who dreams of becoming a rock star like Suzi Quatro. She takes that burning ambition to music promoter Kim Fowley (Michael Shannon) and after pitching him the idea of starting an all-girl rock band, he starts to recruit teenage girls for The Runaways. He and Jett find their front woman in the stylish and dreamy Cherie Currie (Dakota Fanning) and the young women are soon subjected to a rigorous training regimen where Fowley teaches them how to handle rowdy crowds, deal with hecklers and howl, wail and strut in a passionate brand of macho feminism.
Despite their musical talent, they all play their own instruments and write their own songs, Fowler sees an opportunity and promotes The Runaways as a cocktail of empowerment and exploitation. Dressed in hot pants, heels, jumpsuits and lingerie, the teenage girls become both a fetish and a rebellious rock `n' roll band, and subsequently take off. From homegrown success to global domination, including a huge fan base in Japan, the girls begin to struggle with their meteoric rise to fame, the easy availability of drugs, predatory men, lack of supervision and group dynamics.
The focus of the film is the individual stories of Jett and Currie, who are key members of the group and share an intimate relationship as friends and sometime lovers (which cumulates in a pash between Stewart and Fanning). Coming from a background as a photographer and music video director, Sigismondi has an eye for visuals and her competency in creating this grungy 70s world is similar to Catehrine Harwicke's effort in The Lords Of Dogtown. Her direction of the music scenes, which are all sung and performed by the actors, really captures the electricity of the band and their music. However, that is also her downfall because The Runaways retains a glossy sheen that seems out of place given the events unfolding on screen. The story too has been trimmed and moulded from Currie's autobiography, so that it is just rebellious enough, while skipping over some of the more confronting and compelling issues.
But the crux of The Runaways is the performances, with Shannon delivering a suitably sociopathic turn as Fowley and Alia Shawkat makes the most of her small supporting role. Yet it is Stewart and Fanning who steal the show. In case you did not know already, they make this film their declaration that they are no longer child stars, but rather young-adult actresses who deliver tour de force performances. Fanning's David Bowie-esque Currie is as beautiful contradiction, a vulnerable and undecided teenager off stage and a fierey sex kitten on it. Besides her uncanny resemblance to Jett, Stewart ozzes the rock `n' roll mentality and her brooding, attitude-filled performance is reminiscent of a young James Dean.
Flashy and feisty, The Runaways is an entertaining piece of pop art, but it fails to delve deeper into the real story. For an accurate account see former bassist Victory Tischler-Blue's documentary Edgeplay: A Film About The Runaways. Sure, from a technical perspective it may be one of the worst documentaries I’ve seen, but she captures the band’s truly amazing story in interviews and mind blowing revelations. Watch it. In other news, I interviewed her a few weeks ago and she describes Jett as a “fucking c#nt” so she deserves your props for that.
The Runaways opens next Thursday, July 15.
From Catherine Hardwicke’s severely under budget, yet insightful, direction of the first film, to Christ Weitz’s melodramatic and lush take on the second, director David Slade has trumped both of his predecessors with Eclipse. The British filmmaker comes from a background in complex horror thrillers and he is the first to give The Twilight Saga some much-needed teeth. Central to the series are the slow, soppy scenes where the characters profess their undying love for each other and Twihards will be pleased to know there are still plenty of those. But scattered amongst them are pockets of action which have Slade’s stylish stamp all over them. You will still be hard-pressed to raise an eyebrow, let alone goose bump, in the `scary’ scenes, but from the suspenseful opening chase through the rain-drenched streets of Seattle with Aussie newcomer Xavier Samuel, Slade takes it up a notch.
The dialogue is slightly less sickening, thanks to some refreshingly realistic scenes between Bella and her dad, Charlie (Billy Burke), banter between Edward and Jacob and a few splashes of humour throughout. Stewart and Burke once again prove to be the most formidable acting talents in the cast, however, Rathbone, Reed, Anna Kendrick, Dakota Fanning, Samuel and Pattinson also put in decent performances. Lautner, however, is once again out-acted by his biceps and his constant shirtlessness even causes Edward to ask “doesn’t he ever where a shirt?” But of course, a clothed Jacob decreases the films total gross by a few hundred million, so the producers also throw an almost-naked scene in there too. You know, just to whip up a blood-in-the-water-esque frenzy amongst the shark pool of Twihards.