I’ve finally just seen The Runaways. I have no real words to describe how much I am in love with it. Of course there were flaws, of course there were things that need expansion (or the opposite), but also of course, I could watch ninety-six more hours of that fucking movie.
The Runaways, as a whole, were my first ever girl crushes. I came upon my mom’s copy of The Runaways Live in Japan as a pre-tween (read each girl’s short biography hundreds of times), and I haven’t been the same since. I was a pop tart since birth and only happened upon anything more rocking when my dad’s band played or my parents had a house party (this happened often, they were youngings). This, though, I got into all by myself. They were cute, little girls wearing outfits I’d never seen doing things only dudes ever did, and I was crotch-crickety smitten.
I loved them and I still love them. And this movie – flaw-full as it may have been – was exactly what I needed to bring this love back to the beginning.
Basically, what I’m saying is: YOU GET IN THE FUCKING BOOTH!
NO, YOU GET IN THE FUCKING BOOTH!