Ms. Swados wasn’t the first theater artist to realize this. (Think back to Depression-era stage frolics like “Babes in Arms”). But she may have been the first to harness the anger in that particular energy without sentimentality or condescending cuteness.

The title characters of “Runaways,” who include dope addicts, con artists and streetwalkers, may have seemed exotic on one level to the middle-aged parents in the audience. But the sense of bearing a grudge against the whole adult world, the fears of entering that world, the daily hyperkinetic emotional spirals — those elements would have been familiar to anyone with teenagers in the house. And so they remain.

Mr. Pinkleton and the choreographer, Ani Taj, who both studied under Ms. Swados at New York University, let the young cast’s natural energy rip without descending into chaos. This is a formidable achievement when you consider the ensemble’s size (25) and age range (mostly between 12 and 19).

While Mr. Pinkleton allows each cast member to emerge as an individual, he also knows that his performing team’s strength is in its union. Seen moving with the stealth and fleetness of subway rats amid a stage furnished with discarded couches and more portable detritus (Donyale Werle did the set, and the neon costumes are by Clint Ramos), the characters do not give us anything like the mini-autobiographies provided in “A Chorus Line.”

You sense that many of the solos and soliloquies here could just as easily be performed by most of the other cast members. What “Runaways” is going for is a group mentality, a gathering of injured souls who merge into one vital, hungry, desperate voice.

The specific forms these voices assume are eclectic, but they’re all pitched at a level of wounded rage that begs to be heard and despairs of that ever happening. There’s a reason that the show begins with a young woman (Ren) speaking in sign language (translated into speech by Siena Rafter). “I don’t speak their language, and they don’t speak mine,” she says of her parents.