In the early nineties the Showtime network produced a series of remakes of American International Pictures movies. Juvenile delinquent stories of hot rods, cool cars, tough guys, and bad girls. Considered trashy back in the fifties, these films are squeaky clean in these corrosive times.
I never had Showtime, so I mostly missed out on the remakes. I caught Roadracers, directed by Robert Rodreguez and starring David Arquette. I thought it was okay. I also saw Alan Arkush's Shake, Rattle and Rock!, which I liked quite a bit more.
The one I wanted to see is Runaway Daughters, made by the always-reliable Joe Dante. I could have ordered a DVD. They aren't very expensive, but I never seemed to think about it when I shopped online. I was recently delighted to find a used copy at a thrift store for a dollar or two.
I haven't seen the original Runaway Daughters, but I'm pretty sure the remake is a better picture. Not that it's a must-see classic or anything. Just an enjoyable little ditty you can smile through for an hour-and-a-half.
Runaway Daughters is a bright film, full of vivid colors and iconic fifties images. In some ways it is an idealized look at a beloved era of American history. However, Dante employs a montage of newsreel footage during the opening credits that shows a duality of the period. Gorgeous shots of classic cars, teen dances, and soda pop shops mixed with disturbing images of racism, war, and unrest. Like all times, the fifties were a mix of the very good and the very bad.
We are introduced to three teenage girls. One is a sophisticate from the big city who is always out for the next kick. One is a brain, and the other is the prototypical nice girl from next door. When one gets pregnant, the father makes promises, and then exits stage left to join the Navy.
The girls vow revenge and set out to catch the boy at the recruiting station before he ships out. They fake their own kidnapping, boost a car, and are off on a crime spree.
Dante is a fan's director, and he always gets familiar faces in his films. Regulars like Dick Miller and Robert Picardo have secondary roles. Astute viewers will see Roger and Julie Corman as glazed-eyed suburbanites. Courtney Gains and Leo Rossi are corrupt cops. Rance Howard and John Astin are fifties versions of Proud Boys. Cathy Moriarty, Wendy Schaal, former teen idol Fabian, Samuel Z. Arkoff, Belinda Belaski, Joe Flaherty, and of course Dabbs Greer make appearances. Christopher Stone and Dee Wallace, reunited from Dante's The Howling, are parents. Playing against type, a young Paul Rudd is a rather unconvincing JD hood. If all that isn't enough, famed DJ The Real Don Steele's unmistakable voice is heard throughout the film.
Runaway Daughters doesn't rank with Joe Dante's best work, but it's a sweet little confection worth seeking out. It looks great, the familiar faces and voices give the movie a homey feeling, and the soundtrack of rock and roll classics from Eddie Cochran, Fats Domino, Ricky Nelson, and others will keep your foot tapping.
There's virtually nothing to dislike here. How can anyone resist a movie that opens at a drive-in showing I Was a Teenage Werewolf? Check it out if you get the chance.
Written by Mark Sieber
I never had Showtime, so I mostly missed out on the remakes. I caught Roadracers, directed by Robert Rodreguez and starring David Arquette. I thought it was okay. I also saw Alan Arkush's Shake, Rattle and Rock!, which I liked quite a bit more.
The one I wanted to see is Runaway Daughters, made by the always-reliable Joe Dante. I could have ordered a DVD. They aren't very expensive, but I never seemed to think about it when I shopped online. I was recently delighted to find a used copy at a thrift store for a dollar or two.
I haven't seen the original Runaway Daughters, but I'm pretty sure the remake is a better picture. Not that it's a must-see classic or anything. Just an enjoyable little ditty you can smile through for an hour-and-a-half.
Runaway Daughters is a bright film, full of vivid colors and iconic fifties images. In some ways it is an idealized look at a beloved era of American history. However, Dante employs a montage of newsreel footage during the opening credits that shows a duality of the period. Gorgeous shots of classic cars, teen dances, and soda pop shops mixed with disturbing images of racism, war, and unrest. Like all times, the fifties were a mix of the very good and the very bad.
We are introduced to three teenage girls. One is a sophisticate from the big city who is always out for the next kick. One is a brain, and the other is the prototypical nice girl from next door. When one gets pregnant, the father makes promises, and then exits stage left to join the Navy.
The girls vow revenge and set out to catch the boy at the recruiting station before he ships out. They fake their own kidnapping, boost a car, and are off on a crime spree.
Dante is a fan's director, and he always gets familiar faces in his films. Regulars like Dick Miller and Robert Picardo have secondary roles. Astute viewers will see Roger and Julie Corman as glazed-eyed suburbanites. Courtney Gains and Leo Rossi are corrupt cops. Rance Howard and John Astin are fifties versions of Proud Boys. Cathy Moriarty, Wendy Schaal, former teen idol Fabian, Samuel Z. Arkoff, Belinda Belaski, Joe Flaherty, and of course Dabbs Greer make appearances. Christopher Stone and Dee Wallace, reunited from Dante's The Howling, are parents. Playing against type, a young Paul Rudd is a rather unconvincing JD hood. If all that isn't enough, famed DJ The Real Don Steele's unmistakable voice is heard throughout the film.
Runaway Daughters doesn't rank with Joe Dante's best work, but it's a sweet little confection worth seeking out. It looks great, the familiar faces and voices give the movie a homey feeling, and the soundtrack of rock and roll classics from Eddie Cochran, Fats Domino, Ricky Nelson, and others will keep your foot tapping.
There's virtually nothing to dislike here. How can anyone resist a movie that opens at a drive-in showing I Was a Teenage Werewolf? Check it out if you get the chance.
Written by Mark Sieber
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