The all-female rock group The Runaways was formed in 1975, and disbanded before the… The all-female rock group The Runaways was formed in 1975, and disbanded before the ’80s. Its first singles were broadcast before Regan took office. Its most famous member, Joan Jett, is old enough to be my mother. Despite the band’s age, it remains popular decades later. The question is, can the newly released film “The Runaways” — or any music biopic, for that matter — have the same brand of longevity?

It’s a question I’ve been pondering ever since the release of the fictitious biopic “Crazy Heart.” Heading back from a screening a few months back, my friend and I tried, and failed, to think of music biopics that had gone on to become classics. Countless standouts came to mind — “Ray,” “Walk the Line” — but we were at a loss when it came to films that had endured in the public mindset beyond a year or two.

I’ll get to the reason, but first, a quick disclaimer: slice-of-life movies like “A Hard Day’s Night” (1964) and documentaries are exempt from the curse. Legendary concert films like “Stop Making Sense” (Talking Heads) or up-close-and-personal examinations like “Gimme Shelter” (The Rolling Stones) are savored for decades to come.

But not biopics. Which, for a time, baffled me — why did these fine films so easily disintegrate from memory?

The answer can be found, surprisingly enough, in “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story” (2007). Ostensibly it’s a parody of “Walk the Line” (2005), but really, it’s a searing, and hilarious, indictment of all music biopics ever made. With sardonic ease, the film matriculates through the various motions of the genre — a tragic childhood, drugs, reuniting with an old flame — and by the end, you get the sense that you’ve just watched a thousand movies in one.

Which is troubling — if modern music biopics were so similar that they could be mixed and matched without detriment to the story. It’s no wonder, then, that they might easily evaporate from memory in a haze of formula and convention.

Of course, this might say as much about the musicians as it does the films — experimentation, booze, and old flames are inarguably recurrent themes in the lives of artists. But is it so hard to find an interesting, original way to convey the story of a person’s life?

Some biopics have. “I’m Not There” (2007), the experimental film on Bob Dylan, features six actors playing a different aspect of the legendary songwriter. “Thirty Two Short Films About Glenn Gould” (1993) is a schizophrenic, often funny web of shorts dissecting the life of the famous pianist. Even “La Vie en rose” (2007), while known primarily for its amazing lead performance by Marion Cotillard, flirts with experimental narrative structure. These are, in the conventional sense, wildly different movies, but they’re united by a shared virtue: they’re memorable.

To put it simply, music biopics need to take more chances. You’ll only find one or two a year that even remotely break the supposedly “tried and true” laws of the genre, but when they do — as “Friday Night Lights” (2004) did for sports and “Unforgiven” (1992) did for Westerns — the results are often spectacular — and timeless.

Yes, fanboys might get up in arms if you started splicing up their favorite musician’s life story. Yes, it’d probably make the film less marketable. But with the right direction, the right insight, and of course, the right performances, experimental biopics are destined to take their place amongst the great pioneers of genre.

Who knows? Maybe song is inherently more endearing than film. Maybe you can only fiddle so much with a person’s life and still convey its meaning. But until more filmmakers take a chance, The Runaways’ story will be remembered solely through their music.