The Running Man, 2025.
Directed by Edgar Wright.
Starring Glen Powell, Josh Brolin, Michael Cera, Colman Domingo, Lee Pace, Jayme Lawson, William H. Macy, Emilia Jones, David Zayas, Katy O’Brian, Daniel Ezra, Karl Glusman, Sean Hayes, Thalía Dudek, Matt Ramos, Martin Herlihy, George Carroll, Sandra Dickinson, Georgia Goodman, and Sophie Simnett.
SYNOPSIS:
A man joins a game show in which contestants, allowed to go anywhere in the world, are pursued by “hunters” hired to kill them.
In Edgar Wright’s remake of The Running Man (adapted from the novel by Stephen King and co-written with Michael Bacall) dystopian contestants (labeled ‘runners’) of the popular, deadly game show come in three types: a dope with no social awareness making mistakes, practically handing their life over with open arms to a Hunter sniper, a realist essentially looking to live a life of excess before going out with a bang but not without raising against the system, and a noble one fighting for survival with a righteous cause adjacent to the $1 billion cash prize, who also happens to be difficult to locate and kill to the degree that they become a cultural sensation and must-watch TV star (it’s similar to how people felt the first time someone made it to the million dollar question on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire but with bloodlust), waiting to see if they can last the full 30 days.
Naturally, the sociopolitical action-comedy centers on the one played by budding blockbuster star Glen Powell, who embodies the third type of character described above. One also gets the feeling that the other two contestants (Martin Herlihy and Katy O’Brian) would have allowed for a story that better fits Edgar Wright’s style and sensibilities as a filmmaker. At the very least, the actors fit their roles. In contrast, Glen Powell is distractingly playing the angriest man in the world (another character actually says this to him early on), despite exuding nothing but pleasant charisma behind imposing physicality and a mountain of muscles. Whenever disgruntled and frustrated slum resident Ben Richards (Powell) expresses anger, it’s unconvincing and forced, as if it’s the furthest personality trait from the real person. Yes, that’s part of acting, but the convincing part is paramount to selling the character and story.
It’s not that Ben doesn’t have valid reasons to be angry; he does, considering he can’t get work and finds himself laid off due to his own hot-headed nature in a confrontation with his manager, that he brings his infant daughter to solely because her presence would be the only thing restraining him from violence. In hindsight, even that detail comes across as Edgar Wright looking for a cheat code to make the anger element believable. Nevertheless, Ben needs work since his daughter is sick, leaving his wife, Sheila (Jayme Lawson), working double and triple shifts at a nightclub, which sometimes has chauvinistic and touchy patrons.
Ben is desperate but not quite crazy enough to sign up for The Running Man yet. Instead, the filmmakers attempt to flesh out this world (which is both futuristic and lacking in modern technology, such as cell phones and live-streaming, for reasons distractingly convenient to the plot) with other prize-money game shows that are less dangerous but more humiliating. With equally stilted and forced encounters against the oppressive regime in this prescient riff on America, the universe seems to be pushing Ben into signing up for The Running Man. Ratings-obsessed network executive Dan Killian (Josh Brolin) successfully goads him into doing so in a matter of minutes.
Fortunately, the savages at this network are kind enough to put Ben’s wife and daughter into a pseudo-witness protection program for the duration of the game or for the rest of his life (whichever ends first). Apparently, neither of them has a single other family member; once again, it’s a mighty convenience that they don’t. From there, the rules are given, which essentially amount to a 12-hour head start, a requirement to use a featured recording device to film and mail-in 10 minutes of footage every day as proof of life, the promise of monetary rewards for citizens who film or provide information on the whereabouts of each contestant in hiding, and the role of Hunters who will stop at nothing to kill them. There is also a masked Hunter, who is the most efficient of them all.
What follows is an episodic adventure featuring several side characters played by notable character actors and Edgar Wright regulars (ranging from William H. Macy and Michael Cera to Emilia Jones and others) as Ben is on the run, typically in lazy disguises that make the Clark Kent/Superman appearances impossible to match up in comparison. It’s yet another distracting element, with the above supporting characters and others given underdeveloped roles that are quickly forgotten, as one wonders if this was initially meant to be a TV series.
In the middle of all this is a perfected deep-fake subplot showing that this network (with its eccentric game show host played by Colman Domingo) can alter any image and voice, taking Ben’s resistance words (the character starts solely concerned about his family but increasingly grows politically conscious from interactions with those who detest the network and would rather help keep him alive) and manipulating it into footage that will turn the average citizen against him. It causes the viewer to constantly question whether what they are being shown in this TV show is real, while being well aware that it will be used against Ben in more ways than one. Not that everyone in the world would believe him, but the fact that this film has self-driving cars and social media, yet apparently nothing within Ben’s reach to live-stream and denounce the altered footage of his video capsules as fake, is a maddening contrivance.
One constantly feels taken out of The Running Man‘s immersion. The film’s points about public control by mass media, surveillance, healthcare, and rebellion are only explored at the surface, falling far short of the bite the story requires. And while this may sound like a negative review without any redeeming qualities, the action throughout is frequent and solid enough to almost make up for these blunders. However, even the third act feels mismanaged, leading to an ending that is mildly satisfying yet also rushed with no emotional catharsis. It primarily serves to drive home to Ben that everything that is happening is his fault due to his temperamental behavior, which is worthwhile, but also something everyone watching the film already knows. The ending also feels stuck somewhere between cynicism and sending crowds home happy.
Similarly, The Running Man comes across as unsure if it wants to meaningfully engage with the story’s political themes or solely use them as a backdrop for 2+ hours of action. It’s as if Edgar Wright is running scared; this is toothless filmmaking prioritizing popcorn entertainment above all else.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
