I just came from the press screen of the hotly-anticipated Runaways movie, and without delving too deeply into a formal review (see our take by Karina Longworth), I will say it was essentially everything I hoped it would be.The mold for rock music bio pics was not broken: it’s loud, flashy, full of delirious, debauched montages of life on the road, and the band’s inevitably dramatic decline and demise. The set design and wardrobe is fiercely true to the era (I can just imagine the debates amongst on-set stylists in regards to proper hair-feathering technique) and the soundtrack is appropriately packed with T-Rex and Gary Glitter tunes. It’s also really, really raunchy, in a vaseline-and-mud-on-the-lens sort of way, between all the teenage girl-on-girl action and one brief, but particularly memorable masturbation instruction scene that takes place in a hotel show on the Runaways’ first tour. If Kristen Stewart is looking to ditch her Twilight associations, this is a fine first step; her replication of Joan Jett’s mannerisms and proto-Riot Grrl ‘tude is spot-on. Perhaps the most amusing footnote is in the strangest cameo. Robert Romanus, who portrays womanizing weasel Damone in Fast Times at Ridgement High plays Jett’s first guitar teacher, a sweater-wearing conservative who refuses to teach her “Smoke on the Water.” Priceless.I’m glad I was able to see it in advance, but I’m definitely still going to see it again in theaters with a pack of female rocker pals (Kim Warnick and Rachel Flotard, I’m looking straight at you two).