What this predictable tale lacks in surprises it more than makes up for in charm, good music and the indelible performances of Alessandro Nivola and Abigail Breslin as father and child.

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Rosenthal falls prey to this trapping only because “Janie Jones” brings no new ideas to the table.

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Contrivances aside, though, Janie Jones is one of the more realistic depictions of what the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle is really like.

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“Janie Jones” effectively captures a grubby club circuit where rowdy audiences test a performer’s mettle.

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Tale of a rock star and his daughter with low wattage.

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A sort of cross between "Crazy Heart" and "Paper Moon," David M. Rosenthal's third feature centers on a fading, self-destructive midcareer musician abruptly saddled with a young girl who claims to be his daughter.

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That's true love, folks—and even if Rosenthal's film is almost astoundingly unambitious, at least it's generous and warmhearted enough to be reasonably inoffensive.

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Nivola and Breslin sing and perform the original numbers, welcome interludes that provide respite from Rosenthal's lousy script.

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Janie Jones spends way too little time in its I’m-skeptical-of-your-accusation phase, moving swiftly into the my-kid’s-got-talent phase and then, like clockwork, into the maybe-I-do-have-time-for-parenting phase.

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Writer-director David M. Rosenthal fills this dewy road-trip movie with too many cliches. From the glimpses we get of Shue's character, that may have been a more rockin' story.

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The indie road movie “Janie Jones” is billed as “inspired by the true story” of its writer-director, David M. Rosenthal. Impossible. No one’s life is this boring

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