The '70s Come Alive in "The Runaways"

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Thursday, 25 March 2010 00:28

Written by Maitland McDonagh / Miss FlickChick

Directed by Floria Sigismondi
Written by Floria Sigismondi, based on the book Neon Angel by Cherie Currie
Starring Kristen Stewart, Dakota Fanning, Michael Shannon, Scout Taylor-Compton, Stella Maeve, Alia Shawkat, Tatum O'Neal

Italian-born writer-director Floria Sigismondi’s film about the short-lived, all-girl rock band The Runaways (and they really were girls, not women), sacrifices the fascinating details in the service of tidy dramatic structure. But captures a genuine sense of  what the 1970s were like — the real '70s, not the whacky, sitcom '70s of That '70s Show. Ingrained sexism coexisting uneasily with newfound sexual freedom; too-tight, too-shiny clothes — billowing caftans, clingy knits, sansabelt pants, jumpsuits, platform shoes, dingy clubs; retro prints and brown, brown, brown — and a pervasive feeling that the good times were over and all that lay ahead was diminished expectations.

Southern California, 1975: Restless teenager Joan Jett (Kristen Stewart) worships Suzi Quatro and dreams of becoming a straight-up, balls-out guitar god, despite the prevailing wisdom that girls can’t play the electric guitar. Sandy West (Stella Maeve), hooked on drums from age nine, is on the prowl for other female musicians who want to <em>rock</em>. Hollywood-bred jack-of-all-trades Kim Fowley (Michael Shannon), who at 33 could boast a solid 15 years of music-business experience, thinks a gaggle of hard-rocking jailbait chicks could be the next lucrative thing and introduces them. When West and Jett click, he recruits Bowie-worshiping singer Cherie Currie (Dakota Fanning), spawn of an alcoholic and a disillusioned actress (Tatum O’Neal) whose Hollywood dreams curdled after 10 years of B-movie bit parts; volatile guitarist Lita Ford (Scout Taylor-Compton) and bass player Robin Robins (Alia Shawkat, playing a composite of the bassists the band went through in four years). Fowley dubs them The Runaways and puts his fledgling proteges through rock 'n' roll boot camp. He hires local kids to pelt them with crap (literally) — the girls have to learn how to deal with rowdy crowds — encourages them with his own special brand of cheerleading ("You bitches are gonna be bigger than the fucking Beatles!"), and sends them out on a low-rent, make-or-break tour. The rest is straight from the Behind the Music playbook: Intoxicating success, drug- and booze-fueled squabbles and the inevitable flameout.

First, the good news: Twilight's sullen Stewart, former child-star Fanning and one-time Oscar-nominee Shannon are terrific; their performances are 100% snark-free. Both Fanning and Stewart nail the particular desperation born of living on the wrong side of a shatterproof wall that separates wealth, glamour and celebrity from parched despair, and they can sing. Jett, one of the film’s executive producers, claims she mistook a tape of Stewart for one of herself.

The bad news is that The Runaways consistently sacrifices the  unique and messy to the sleekly formulaic; the film’s look is as grungy and deglamorized as the narrative is neat and familiar. And that’s a shame, because the marvel of The Runaways is that they transcended their pre-fab (albeit scruffy) origins and forged a genuine rock ‘n’ roll identity. 

For more by Maitland McDonagh: MissFlickChick.com

Kevin's Digital Week 17: Comic (But Serious) Docs

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Saturday, 20 March 2010 05:00

Written by Kevin Filipski

Blu-Ray of the Week

Capitalism: A Love Story
(Anchor Bay)

In Michael Moore’s latest cinematic screed, the entire economic system of the United States is on trial and, if Moore’s thesis is chosen more by his heart than his head--junking capitalism seems a knee-jerk reaction--he makes relevant points along the way. As always, Moore gives valuable face-time to unfortunate victims of the latest Wall Street fiasco, and these intimate character sketches are the most compelling parts of the movie. And when he brings in his retired father to reminisce about working at the auto plant in his hometown of Flint, Michigan, Capitalism: A Love Story becomes quite touching.

But his film will ultimately be remembered for its stunts, like putting yellow crime scene tape around the responsible (or irresponsible) firms’ Manhattan headquarters, which reinforce Moore’s rep as a prankster. On Blu-ray, the movie looks vibrant if visually underwhelming. Extras include additional interviews and sequences, along with Jimmy Carter‘s infamous 1979 speech about the economy that Moore references in the film.

DVD of the Week
Good Hair
(LionsGate)
Chris Rock’s documentary about the impact on the black community of the ongoing quest to have “good hair” is as explosively funny as the shorts he used to do on his old HBO show -- but there's an underlying seriousness that keeps the discussion from ever turning frivolous. Not only does Rock interview celebrities (Maya Angelou, Ice-T, Nia Long, Eve, Salt-n-Pepa) about their attempts to deal with naturally “nappy” hair, but he also explores the multi-million dollar industry that has grown up around products that help black women “relax” their hair to make it palatable for both themselves and others.

Some of the most insightful moments come when Rock talks with ordinary men and women in beauty salons and barber shops, as we hear off-the-cuff, revealing remarks about this unique phenomenon, pro and con. The lone extra is a sidesplitting riff of an audio commentary by Rock, with producer Nelson George.

"Repo Men" an Organ Groaner

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Parent Category: Film and the Arts

Category: Reviews

Published on Friday, 19 March 2010 02:22

Written by Frank Lovece

Directed by Miguel Sapochnik
Written by Eric Garcia, Garrett Lerner, based on the novel The Repossession Mambo by Garcia
Starring Jude Law, Forest Whitaker, Liev Schreiber, Alice Braga, Carice Van Houten, Chandler Canterbury, Joe Pingue, RZA (Robert Fitzgerald Diggs)

Repo Men, right to its remarkably telegraphed ending, follows a map of Brazil as it tries to juxtapose carefree Latin music and arch satire with a Dystopian future where killing people is just bureaucratic business-as-usual. Only where Terry Gilliam's Brazil (1985) made the agents of bureaucracy those of a totalitarian government, this adaptation of Eric Garcia's 2009 paperback novel The Repossession Mambo makes them those of a corporation literally able to get away with murder. The problem is that where Brazil created a world all of a piece to make its points with surreal abandon, Repo Men shifts its tone jarringly from action thriller to cautionary drama to black comedy, while ultimately having nothing to say other than maybe, "Pay your bills."

It's not good when the futuristic super-science of everyday artificial-organ transplantation is the easiest thing with which to suspend disbelief. Screenwriters Garcia and Garrett Lerner and first-time feature director Miguel Sapochnik, a former storyboard artist, present a standard blue-neon Blade Runner city in which salespeople for a megacorporation called The Union sweet-talk terminally ill family men and others to buy organs costing hundreds of thousands of dollars — pooh-poohing rumors "you may have heard on the 6 o'clock news" (as if there were still a 6 o'clock news in the future) about repo men who come and take back your organs if you're 90 days past due. And so, all through the movie, you somehow have several corpses a day littering a single city alone, all with organs removed, and these are just "rumors"? Forget about police — there apparently aren't even any blogs or forum postings wondering why all these dead people keep popping up like mushrooms after a rain. The waiting room at The Union sales office has a steady stream of customers who never notice all this, or know anybody that it happened to?

The lack of logic starts right off, as repo man Remy (Jude Law) talks about having become work-partners with Jake (Forest Whitaker), the kid who used to beat him up in fourth grade in this clearly North American city – even though Remy inexplicably has a British accent as thick as Marmite. Where is this, exactly? Because somehow in this town, everyone, not just rich folks, are buying $600,000 organs — even down-and-out singers and the big, fat, sloppy guy eating a chili dog in the bad part of town.

This isn't just about the ridiculous milieu. It's about a disjointed and unfocused idea, which doesn't seem to be anything more than the bare concept of, "Hey, would happen if corporations got so powerful they could repossess organs?" But a concept is not a movie, and without anything rational to say, it's also not a story.

For more by Frank Lovece: http://franklovece.com