'The Running Man' Trips and Falls

Somehow the spandex returned...

Edgar Wright, for those who do not know, was one of the icons of “geek” cinema in the late 2000s and early 2010s alongside Joss Whedon (The Avengers) and Christopher Nolan. After the acclaimed Cornetto Trilogy and then a cult classic adaptation of Scott Pilgrim Versus The World, his potential seemed boundless. He was supposed to direct Ant-Man, which remains one of the most well-known lost versions of a film. A few years later, he came out with the great Baby Driver (2017). Then…four years of anticipation for his next project. That film Last Night in Soho (2021) disappointed many people, including myself, due to its messy third act and a sometimes garishly digital take on the classically analog giallo genre. Despite this critical and financial setback, many hoped his Stephen King adaptation The Running Man would prove his previous film a mere bump in the road. I am sad to report that the sauce might be lost.

Glen Powell stars as Ben Richards, a desperate father with anger issues and a sick daughter (Alyssa and Sienna Benn). In order to raise funds for medicine, Ben tries out for one of the state-affiliated Network’s sadistic game shows. Thanks to his temper, he ends up on the worst show of them all The Running Man. He has to run and hide for thirty days from both the public and a squad of trained hunters. Every day, he earns money that will be sent to his family, culminating in a prize of $1 billion if he survives the whole month. As those familiar may have noticed, this is a near-exact adaptation of the book unlike the 1987 film. (Check out my review of the original adaptation below!)

The problem is that Wright and co-writer Michael Bacall want to have their cake and eat it, too. They are trying to create at once a faithful adaptation of the book, a tribute to the first film, and a current-day satire. It fails at all three.

The first issue is the rules imposed both by the book and new material. All of the analog technology in the book is retained, including Richards needing to mail a cassette recording every day. No one has traditional smartphones or modern Internet. Such world-building would not necessarily be problematic by itself, but it competes with the film’s seeming desire to say anything meaningful about the present. That does not stop the cast from giving long monologues about their representative ideologies. Of course, there are many relevant films set in the past, but here it threatens the very narrative structure.

The most illustrative example is the third act. I will refrain from exact spoilers, but if you want to go in completely blind, skip to the next paragraph. Near the end of the film, a rule is introduced that Richards is only supposed to be killed when the show is live. This means that he has carte blanche to do almost anything until the show’s primetime slot. The entire climax hinges on this. Yet, it is directly contradicted multiple times. All footage of the show is clearly edited and recaps things that happened previously. This makes the entire third act unravel. In the age of 24/7 streaming and the death of network television, this is a weird plot element to have so centrally.

The script is also inconsistent about whether it wants to be analog or explicitly tackle modern cultural elements. One running gag is a parody of Keeping Up With the Kardashians, a show that has not been relevant in a decade. We live in the era of Mr. Beast, Squid Game unironically becoming an actual game show, and the mass proliferation of online gambling. Is a parody of the Kardashians the only thing you could think of? Almost every other piece of commentary or satire is from the book and done with a lesser impact than even the 1987 film. Considering how the film wants to preach anyway, it would have been better off updating the novel more and having original things to say. Thanks in part to King’s novel, there are many examples of the dystopian sci-fi neo-Coliseum genre. Wright and Bacall write like nothing new has been said in the last forty-three years.

We are in the same year as another much better film about a revolutionary dad on a chase for his daughter One Battle After Another. It is heavy on messaging. It is even heavier on some of the best direction, editing, and cinematography of the past decade.

Plot holes and confusing turns abound. One scene clearly ends as a dream, but a part of it is referenced as having actually happened. The writers also decided to add in other contestants besides Richards, who exist only as unfunny comic relief and to introduce yet another needlessly constricting and unbelievable rule. The ending diverges from the book and crashes right into an epilogue that tries to cram several plot developments without adequate buildup. In a similar problem to one in the book and 1987 film, there is absolutely no reason that Richards would become a symbol for the masses, at least before the very end. Previous contestants acted similarly and did not have the same effect. At least, the Schwarzenegger version’s popularity was semi-justified by literally being the bigger man.

So let us say that narrative inconsistencies and shallow, blunt messages are not a big deal. After all, if the movie is fun, who cares? If you have seen the trailer, you have seen every good action moment, barring one or two. The sequences are usually too short and sometimes muddled by ugly CG. A dark, dry sense of humor worked sporadically for me, but I was the only one laughing in my well-attended theater so your mileage may vary. There is also no opera-singing obese hunter that can shoot electricity. The hunters are pulled from the book and have no personality beyond being a grunt or wearing a ski mask. They try to give one hunter a backstory, but it also makes no sense in relation to what has been previously set up.

The one takeaway everyone should have is that Powell is innocent here. He carries the action, comedy, and melodrama with ease. His biggest problem is the tonal whiplash and odd plotting of the script. The only reason to watch this movie is to be assured of his star power.

The rest of the cast is wasted, with the exception of Michael Cera. He lends a life to the film and his character in a limited appearance. On paper, casting Colman Domingo, brilliant in last year’s Sing Sing, as the host of The Running Man is a great idea, but all he does is say goofy lines to a studio audience.

As for content that might concern Catholic viewers, there are a few questionable moments. Show contestant Jenni Laughlin (Katy O’Brien) spends most of her screen time spending her starting cash at a strip club or casino. One of Richards’ disguises is a blind priest and he makes a pro-condom joke while wearing it. There is a plot point involving a stash of pornographic magazines. Finally, one of the core thematic resolutions is that the solution to our societal problems is to take up arms against the rich. The slogan is literally “kill the execs”, which may be too far for many viewers.

As someone who once believed in the Wright hype, it is a shame that this makes two disappointments in a row. Considering how poorly executed and strange the ending was, it is likely there was some level of studio interference. I hope he gets his mojo back next time with a better script and helpful studio notes if any. The 1987 film was not great, but it at least succeeded as a corny b-movie. This version has deep, fundamental problems and not enough entertainment value to make up for it.

The Running Man is now playing in theaters.