Like the pioneering all-girl rock band from Los Angeles it portrays, "The Runaways" at times exudes enough teen spirit and attitude to light up the Sunset Strip.

It also captures with vivid accuracy the look and feel of the mid-1970s, when The Runaways briefly ignited as an artistic force despite never scoring a hit record. The strong performances of "Twilight" star Kristen Stewart and precocious film veteran Dakota Fanning — who portray Runaways guitarist-singer Joan Jett and lead singer Cherie Currie, respectively — should draw viewers who weren't born until several decades after this band imploded in 1978 after only two albums.

Less illuminating is the threadbare book this uneven movie is based on, Currie's "Neon Angel: A Memoir of a Runaway," which was published in 1989 in paperback only and has now been updated and reissued as a glossy hardback. That's a shame, since there's still a great film waiting to be made about this short-lived but highly influential band, which paved the way for the riot grrrl movement of the early 1990s and helped launch the solo careers of Runaways' guitarist-singers Joan Jett and Lita Ford.

Currie's own subsequent music solo career isn't noted in the movie's brief postscript, although her current, Spinal Tap-worthy career as a "chain saw artist" is. Then again, the postscript also omits any reference to Ford and every other alum of the band, except Jett, who is one of the co-producers of "The Runaways."

Only 15 when she joined the band, Currie was a striking young front-woman and a capable vocalist. Her sexed-up, "jailbait" stage persona — panties, bustier, black stockings and platform shoes — was created by the band's Svengali-like manager and mastermind, Kim Fowley.

The half-brother of San Diego County Treasurer Dan McAllister, Fowley was an L.A. music scene veteran whose previous credits included collaborating with such respected bands as The Byrds, Soft Machine and the Mothers of Invention. Fowley's arresting combination of sleazy misogyny and creepy charisma is captured with winning panache by Michael Shannon in "The Runaways."

As the foul-mouthed Fowley, a seasoned pop-music conceptualist whose favorite concept appears to be the bottom line, he clearly relishes spitting out such tart lines as: "This isn't about women's lib, kiddies, it's about women's libido." The scene in which he and Stewart's Jett quickly co-write "Cherry Bomb" (the closest song to a "hit" The Runaways ever had), then teach it to a hesitant Currie, is a highlight of the movie.

Veteran music video director Floria Sigismondi, who makes her feature film debut with "The Runaways," has a keen eye for visual detail, be it for capturing a raucous house party or the truly awful clothing of the time. (Yikes! Were the pre-punk days of the mid-1970s really that tacky and synthetic? Sadly, they were.)

But Sigismondi appears less concerned with factual accuracy and compelling storytelling, whether she's addressing the band's swaggering music or Currie's bisexual proclivities.

As a result, "The Runaways" only sometimes rises above the usual cliches about a struggling rock band whose fleeting stardom evaporated because of intra-group feuds, commercial exploitation, drug abuse, blah, blah and, ultimately, bleh. Ironically, these flaws may be the result of Sigismondi hewing too closely to Currie's one-dimensional book at times and inexplicably veering away from it in other instances.

Like the well-intentioned but similarly flawed 2008 music feature film "Cadillac Records," which co-starred Beyonce, "The Runaways" too often gets things wrong for no good reason, at least none that advances or improves the story.

Original band "lyricist" Kari Krome, who co-founded The Runaways with Fowley, has been written out, as has Currie's older sister, Sandie. The fact that the band went through at least three bassists before Currie quit in 1978 isn't mentioned, nor is the fact that Jett then took over on lead vocals after The Runaways' second album.

Other myths in the making include showing Currie being booed and pelted with garbage at her high school talent show (which, in real life, she won). Likewise, the version of "Fever" Currie learned for her audition with The Runaways was not the 1956 Peggy Lee hit, but a high-voltage remake by glam-rock Queen Suzi Quatro.

On a more sobering note, Currie's rape in her home, at 15, by her twin sister's former boyfriend is omitted, even though this incident specifically inspired Currie to cut her long, blond hair into the David Bowie-like style that soon became a Runaways trademark.

The real hero of the band was the feisty, no-nonsense Jett, who plays second fiddle in the movie (but still fares much better than the other band members). That's no surprise, since Currie's book provides the bulk of the source material. But if Jett ever writes her autobiography, it will undoubtedly make for a far more engaging film than "The Runaways." And if Hollywood doesn't come knocking on the door of the real-life Fowley — who, at 71, now sports a head of dyed green hair — well, there's just no accounting for taste.

"The Runaways." Rated: R. Running time: 1 hour, 45 minutes. 2.5 stars.

To find out more about George Varga and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.