Nothing within the musical scenario of "Times Square" rings true. The minutiae of the narrative (slim as it is) never matches up with the film's look, nor the soundtrack selections, nor the age-old theme about struggling talents hoping to break through. Two teenage girls (Trini Alvarado and Robin Johnson, both likable), who are patients in a New York City hospital, escape their confines and move into an abandoned warehouse; after attracting media coverage via a prominent disc-jockey, the kids become cult celebrities. Johnson, who resembles a young Joan Jett, comes on like a little punk rocker-in-the-making, so its surprising (and rather disconcerting) when her moment in the spotlight finally arrives and she's transformed into a New Wave caricature (or, perhaps, a "Rocky Horror" patron). The filmmakers here are clueless as to musical trends, and probably couldn't separate punk from pop or rock from New Wave if they were forced to. It's a lazy, disjointed fairy tale, a film so shallow that it never resembles what the story is meant to be about: young outcasts finding their voices and their freedom through music. For director Allan Moyle, it's all about putting on a show. Perhaps he'd seen too many Judy Garland pictures... *1/2 from ****