Starring: Glen Powell, Josh Brolin and Colman Domingo
Directed by: Edgar Wright
Rated: R
Running Time: 133 minutes
Paramount Pictures
Our Score: 3.5 out of 5 Stars
When I heard Edgar Wright was tackling the second adaptation of Stephen King’s “The Running Man,” I couldn’t help but get excited about the possibilities. For every film he’s made, Wright has brought a frenetic, hyper-stylized energy that moves to the beat of its own schizophrenia. His flashy visuals collide with wordplay, genre satire, and toe-tapping soundtracks that make his films feel like cinematic, ADHD jazz.
Despite being a favorite among cinephiles, with gems like “Shaun of the Dead,” “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World,” and “Baby Driver,” Wright has never been a box office guarantee, nor has he had an undisputed smash. Maybe that’s why he sheds his usual veneer here. In “The Running Man,” he opts for something more faithful to King’s text, but also more conventional, a gritty, almost generic action aesthetic.
Ben Richards (Glen Powell) is the definition of desperate. He’s been laid off for basically having morals, his child is dying from the flu, and his wife works a service job that might be a front for prostitution. With no money and no way out, Richards turns to state-sponsored TV game shows as his last chance. Of course, he’s not doing the most popular show, “The Running Man” competition. Because that’s where contestants must evade government-sanctioned killers and informant civilians for 30 days to win a billion dollars. That’d be crazy, right?
Since we know exactly where this is going, Wright wastes no time throwing Powell to the wolves. Richards moves from city to city, fighting his way out of brutal ambushes, finding unlikely allies, and realizing that the televised bloodsport is only one piece of a much larger, state-controlled dystopia. The movie stays remarkably close to King’s vision. It has a fresh, commercial hellscape look (think Blade Runner meets rauncy YouTube ads) and Powell shines as the scrappy, relatable underdog. Everyone he encounters, from a conspiracy theory Michael Cera to a witty game show host in Colman Domingo, shines in their scenes as well. But it doesn’t feel like a Wright film.
That’s my biggest disappointment. The Wright ingenuity, the pulse, the rhythm…everything; it’s muted. When the movie needs to dump exposition, it still finds clever ways to do it, but it feels like someone else doing a Wright impression. The kinetic charge that usually courses through his scenes, that sense of chaos barely under control, just isn’t there. In his best work, exposition isn’t a hurdle; it’s part of the jazz. Maybe the adaptation held him back, but this one feels restrained, almost cautious.
And that’s really my only complaint. I never held the first “Running Man,” the Arnold Schwarzenegger version, in high regard, so I’m not worried about missing that 80s camp. But what we get here feels like watered-down Wright. Not bad, just… safe. Which is ironic, considering “The Running Man” is still a fun, dystopian middle finger to corporate authoritarianism.
It just feels like it could have been more. Could have been better. That said, if you’re not deep in the Wright fandom and just want solid, old-school action with a touch of satire, this will absolutely do the trick.