The opening shot of The Runaways is of a drop of menstrual blood hitting the pavement. The message is plain: this is a movie about girls, told from a girl's point of view. Throughout the film, which chronicles the rise and implosion of the 1970s all-girl rock band, director Floria Sigismondi reinforces the female sensibility with a studied, matter-of-fact presentation of masturbation, lesbianism, and bodily functions. Men, when they appear at all, are disappointing, like singer Cherie Currie's (Dakota Fanning) alcoholic father; creepy and controlling, like the band's manager, Kim Fowley (Michael Shannon); or expendable, like the band's roadie and Cherie's occasional sex partner, who disappears after a handful of scenes.

You can't tell the story of the Runaways without acknowledging the way Fowley, a lecherous self-promoter, traded on the girls' jailbait appeal to sell records. But in depicting the degradations and objectifications the girls submit to on the way to their 15 minutes of top-40 fame, Sigismondi raises the question: how do you make a film about female exploitation that is not itself exploitational?

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