I realized partway through this version of The Running Man that there's an inherent tension in bringing this story to the big screen. As in Stephen King's 1982 novel, this new adaptation from director Edgar Wright takes place in a dystopian America where television is a form of social control. Members of the oppressed lower class volunteer to compete in dangerous game shows for cash, encouraging the upper classes to view them as subhuman and keeping everyone distracted.
In book form, things only get bleaker, but a movie has to actually show us these violent images, and there's a strong possibility we might find them entertaining. The filmmakers must decide whether to lean into the critique and not our stomachs with guilt or ease up and let us have a good time.
Wright has been open about wanting to adapt King's book more closely than the 1987 Arnold Schwarzenegger version. But the director is a consummate entertainer, as is Glenn Powell, the ascendant movie star played by protagonist Ben Richards, and they made this film as guilt-free as they possibly could. How you feel about The Running Man will ultimately come down to whether you agree with that choice. But for a long while, the movie is so fun that it's hard not to.
This project takes full advantage of what Powell brings to the screen. Richards is a rageful man in King's book, and Powell embraces that, but his explosive anger is somehow still charming. He sells the stunts while maintaining that crucial underdog quality that makes us want to see him beat the odds. Contrast that with the on-screen inevitability of Schwarzenegger, and you'll understand why the '80s version jettisoned the everyman element. He's also funny, which is important given that Wright lends the film his usual tone. Wright bakes a joyful cleverness into every aspect from camera moves to dialogue giving his movies propulsive energy. Powell embodies that tone well. Uh the pairing is a natural match.
Most of the supporting cast are also on Wright's wavelength. Josh Brolin's producer is the smiling villain to contrast Powell's scowling hero. And Coleman Domingo as the host is a force of such indomitable charisma that it's mostly through his performance, we believe the odds are stacked against our hero. But as much as the infectious energy highlights Wright's strengths, this story pushes against his limitations.
His films aren't exactly known for their cutting commentary, and as far as dystopias go, this one suffers from a certain softness. The new adaptation targets reality TV, but moves too quickly to mine the interesting ideas there. The movie doesn't chastise us for numbing ourselves with entertainment so much as question why we do it with that form of it, which is so staged and repetitive when we have movies like The Running Man. It's a message I can get behind, but not a particularly meaningful one. When Wright tries to return to King's weightiness in the last act, it feels forced. Amelia Jones suffers the worst for it, needing more time to land the tonal shift her character represents. Viewers content to ride the wave can probably shrug off the attempt, but I watched the story conclude with diminished enthusiasm. It's an undeniably fun time, but something was lost in the journey from page to screen.