The Runaways stars, from left, Dakota Fanning, Michael Shannon (yellow T-shirt), Alia Shawkat, Scout Taylor-Compton, Stella Maeve and Kristen Stewart in a biopic about the 1970s all-female rock band. (E1 Entertainment)

The Runaways kicks off with the audacious sight of a drop of menstrual blood landing on parking lot gravel, and doesn't let up from there. Making her impressive feature debut, music video director Floria Sigismondi takes the story of the 1970s all-girl band's rise and fall, and spikes it with enough restless energy, rough edges and hard rock to make you leave the theatre feeling properly buzzed.

The Runaways gives a real sense of why these teen rockers were recognized as trailblazers long after their 1970s heyday.

Starting out in 1975, the movie presents Los Angeles as a washed-out teenage wasteland, where the pubescent protagonists can either work at the "Pup n' fries" takeout stand or skulk behind chain-link fences in abandoned schoolyards, huffing glue. Joan Jett (Kristen Stewart) has bigger plans, cruising thrift shops for a leather jacket like that of singer Suzi Quatro and fighting her old-school guitar teacher for a chance to play something requiring an amplifier. Across town, Cherie Currie (Dakota Fanning) is applying David Bowie face paint, and performing Lady Grinning Soul before an audience of heckling high school peers.

A chance meeting with manic record producer Kim Fowley (Michael Shannon, dialed up to 11 throughout) helps Jett set her plans for an all-girl rock band in motion. With drummer Sandy West (Stella Maeve), guitarist Lita Ford (Scout Taylor-Compton) and fictional bassist Robin Robins (Alia Shawkat) added to the mix, the Runaways are soon bashing out some credible rock tunes in a ramshackle trailer in the Valley.

But as the sleazy Fowley reminds his young charges, "This isn't about women's lib, kiddies, it's about women's libido," and he can barely suppress his horndog glee when he spies Currie in a local disco. Just 15 years old with blond, feathered hair, she's the ideal piece of sex-kitten jailbait Fowley needs to sell some records. Currie becomes the band's snarling lead singer, learning to belt out orgasmic lyrics and deliver aggressive crotch thrusts onstage under Fowley's direction.

After his so-called "bitches" have completed Fowley's perverse brand of rock star boot camp, he cuts them loose, sending his already-unruly nymphets out on tour. With no chaperones in sight, the girls go wild — discovering booze, sex and a whole lot of drugs — and Sigismondi deserves kudos for not shying away from the girls' experimentation. When Jett instructs a band mate to masturbate while thinking of Farrah Fawcett or indulges in a passionate kiss with Currie, The Runaways feels admirably frank — Sigismondi treats both moments as natural instances of teenage self-discovery.

In between all of the late-night partying at Motel 6s, the Runaways play many gigs, swiftly becoming a tight, skilled outfit ready to take on sold-out shows in Japan. The raw, feral energy of their live numbers (which were actually sung by Stewart and Fanning) cannot be overstated — particularly in a standout concert performance of Cherry Bomb that serves as a savvy, wordless commentary on what transforms average musicians into bona fide rock stars. Watching Currie bumping and grinding away in her corset is an exhilarating horror show — she's ridiculously magnetic, fuelled by a neediness that might cause her to implode at any moment. Jett's talent comes from the same damaged, hungry place, but something about her focused, inward onstage persona suggests she's the one with the drive and discipline to lay off the coke and eke out a solo career.

Stewart, left, plays Joan Jett and Fanning is Cherie Currie. (E1 Entertainment)

Taking their cues from their onscreen characters, established tween stars Fanning and Stewart deliver performances that are impressive for different reasons. As the self-destructive Currie, Fanning gets the showier part, teetering around in a haze of drugs and smudged silver eye shadow. She's always affecting, using her ghostly blue eyes to suggest a neglected kid who's seen too much. Stewart does something trickier as Jett, working from the outside in. She nails the guitarist's mannerisms — the unimpressed, gum-snapping swagger — but then proceeds to quietly build a character who's a smart, steely survivor. Jett might be playing in Fowley's cheesecake band, but she won't sell herself, and when things start to go sour, she holes up and channels her disappointment into the lyrics to Love Is Pain.

The Runaways is based on Currie's memoir, Neon Angel, and executive produced by Jett — accordingly, the movie focuses on their stories. The other band members are relegated to the sidelines early on, a decision that might leave some Runaways fans feeling short-changed. But Sigismondi is less interested in delivering a proper biopic than in creating an impression of what it felt like to be a Runaway. Formerly a photographer, Sigismondi has a great eye for period detail and seedy, melancholy dive-bar lighting. Both are used to great effect as she conjures all of the pent-up energy and yearning that fuelled the band's rapid rise and subsequent flameout.

It ends up being a fitting band tribute, one that gives a real sense of why the teen rockers were recognized as trailblazers long after their 1970s heyday. The Runaways is going to inspire at least one Twilight diehard to stop mooning over Edward and pick up a guitar — and when it does, the real-life band members will have accomplished what they were always trying to achieve.

The Runaways opens March 19.

Lee Ferguson writes about the arts for CBC News.