The Runaways

9 Apr

I am excited about this.  The new movie (opening tonight) about this raunchy and reckless bunch of renegade female rock stars who made up The Runaways (1975-1979) appeals to my dark side.  It reminds me of being fourteen; about my dream to run away to California and become an attorney for Ratt so I could hang out with Stephen Pearcy and Robin Crosby.  (My plan to stand out from all the other spandex-wearing, big-haired little girls was that with all of the band’s partying and carousing they were bound to need in-house legal services.  Besides, I always hoped that if I got really lucky they might refer me to Paul Stanley and the boys from Kiss. Duh, I’m not stupid.)

Ahh…fate. I never went to law school and I’m not an attorney, for Ratt or anyone else.  But I did see them play in a shit hole bar in Philly a few years ago (Pearcy and Crosby weren’t even in the band anymore) and I guess I did make it to California (ha!).

For me, even if this movie isn’t very good, it will still rock.  I love stuff that makes me nostalgic for a time when the top things on my radar were: Is my hair big enough? and Do these white pumps clash with my neon parachute pants? Seriously.  There was a whole lot of awesome struttin’ around in the 80’s.

It might also be refreshing to see Kristen Stewart do something other than mope around because her exceptionally hot boyfriend is a vampire and her crazy handsome best friend is a werewolf.  Buck up sweetheart.  In my house, we call that a Princess Problem.

But as Joan Jett, I can’t wait to see what she does. Even back in the day I knew Joan Jett was a bad ass.  And apparently, she still is.  Check out how her and Stewart spent time together for the role:  The Runaways : Review : Rolling Stone.

So dig around the back of the bathroom closet and find that huge rusting can of Aqua Cement you’ve been carrying around for the last twenty-five years.  Spray yourself up a classic 80’s do (essential wall of bangs included) and then head straight to the liquor store for a four-pack of Bartles & James. What the hell, make a night of it.

And since we’re on the subject, how long do I have to wait for someone to make Livin’ on a Prayer into a feature film?  I mean, really, could you ask for a more awesome/more evocative/more cheesy name for a movie about an up and coming, struggling band from Jersey?  Didn’t think so.


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