Jay Rohr
The Running Man apparently came to race a marathon. Strangely, it seems to have trained for sprints. This dystopian action thriller, helmed by director Edgar Wright, is a rousing blend of engaging visuals providing social commentary alongside exciting set pieces. Fortunately, this flick never feels like its explosive elements are derived from video games. However, though it smoothly connects every segment along a winding road, The Running Man doesn’t always pace itself for the long walk to the finish line.
The story follows Ben Richards played by Glen Powell (Twisters). Unable to find work in an oligarchic dystopia, he auditions for the violent game shows in this near future nightmare. He initially aims at a less than lethal program until the medical needs of his sick baby are used by vile producer Dan Killian (Josh Brolin) to push him into playing The Running Man. This immensely popular reality show involves contests fleeing for their lives in a countrywide chase. Whoever escapes the hunters for thirty days will receive a billion dollars. Since no one has ever survived the duration, odds are not in Ben’s favor.
What unfolds is a fairly predictable series of events made enjoyable by a combination of skillful cinematic presentation combined with a certain lighthearted charm. Brutal as the action can be, The Running Man lacks the gorier qualities of this year’s other Stephen King last man standing adaptation. That works in this film’s favor, allowing a strangely mirthful quality to some of the slaughter. Yet, Edgar Wright still manages to inject seriousness into such situations.
The Running Man borders on the devil may care guilty pleasure of 80s action flicks that nonchalantly flung bullets through people, while allowing a strange sidewise examination of such wanton violence by mentioning the consequences as well as humanizing numerous victims. Essentially, not only do innocent people very likely get hurt because of the game show, but there is a real sense of how warped a society would have to be to delight in this entertainment. The Running Man often has moments of metafictional self-awareness that come across one comical step ahead of potential detractors.
Meanwhile, there are several ham-fisted blunt statements throughout the film. These plainly express thematic notions about oligarchies, media distortions and infosphere propaganda, especially as a means of control in class warfare. Unlike its 1987 predecessor, The Running Man doesn’t vilify Richards with false accusations of violent crimes, rather he’s deemed evil for sympathizing with union organizers. In an era of increasing media illiteracy, these feel strangely necessary, though even someone who agrees with the overt politics may roll their eyes when Glen Powell monologues about evil corporations.
That may have less to do with his performance than the subtext already being so obvious throughout. Similarly, there is a point where a kind of influencer revolutionary played by Daniel Ezra (All American) lays out how the game show is rigged. It essentially foreshadows the entire latter half of the film, while explaining the propaganda purpose of The Running Man to the audience. We then get another similar recitation from Michael Cera (The Phoenician Scheme) as a generic underground activist. Although this spoon-feeding may decrease viewers not getting it, the movie slows considerably despite how colorfully such segments are expressed.
And when it comes to visuals, Edgar Wright is one of the few contemporary directors who understands that the whole screen can convey information. He’s used such skills to incredible affect in flicks like Shawn of the Dead and Last Night in Soho. Most of the details of this dystopia can be absorbed and inferred simply thanks to a camera following Powell down the street. There’s a wonderful sense of worldbuilding that comes from background extras, the graffiti on buildings, and the overall impression of inhabited environments. Although this magnificent degree of subtle storytelling occasionally gets knocked aside for zhuzhed up exposition dumps, The Running Man never sacrifices its visual grandeur for a second.
There’s technically a lot of heavy lifting being done. The Running Man is essentially an adaptation of a Stephen King novel as well as a remake of a beloved Arnold Schwarzenegger action classic. The latter may have its faults yet is no less enjoyed by fans likely to come looking for any loose threads they can pull to unravel this version. Unless such people want to champion dystopian oligarchies, they won’t find much to criticize. Plus, Wright includes easter eggs that nod to the various origins in playful ways. The result is a contemporary interpretation amalgamating two sources which tends to exceed its origins.
This is thanks in no small part to a stellar cast. Glen Powell carries the burdens of his role with a relatable frustration that leaves audiences rooting for him. Colman Domingo (Sing Sing) ably steps into the shoes of a slick game show host oozing charm in service of odious ends. Josh Brolin (Weapons) delivers a modern media Mephistopheles, whose arrogance may be grimly justified as he compels people to comply by highlighting their desperation.
Jayme Lawson (Sinners) gets just enough time to convey being the beleaguered wife of Ben Richards. Katy O’Brian (Mission Impossible — Final Reckoning) turns Laughlin into a dangerously carefree individual going out with a bang. Unfortunately, that about does it for female characters with much depth. Towards the end, Emelia Jones (CODA) plays a wealthy woman turned hostage, inspired to revolutionary attitudes, but it feels like a role that should have entered the story much earlier.
Still, The Running Man delivers an exciting contemporary take on what’s become a bizarrely prescient fiction from Richard Bachman (a.k.a. Stephen King). The way the world has changed since 1982 ripened the narrative to include criticisms of social media and oligarch dystopian propaganda. In addition, it exceeds the film being remade while being different enough to leave fans with two movies to enjoy. Occasionally, the plot slows, perhaps to catch its breath, but it never stops moving towards a satisfying conclusion. The Running Man is a pleasing popcorn thriller.
