by Charles Kirkland, Jr.
In an attempt to provide for his wife and child in a bleak, futuristic world, a blacklisted man finds his only chance on the violent game show The Running Man.
It is 2025, a world divided between the haves and the have-nots. Corporations have merged into powerful conglomerates that protect each other’s interests while abandoning their workers. Ben Richards is a hothead, blacklisted and labeled unemployable after standing up for his co-workers and speaking out against the system. His wife works double shifts to afford medicine for their sick child, but time and money are running out.
Desperate, Ben turns to The Network, a mega-corporation that produces society’s most popular and brutal reality shows. After a series of grueling “auditions,” producer Dan Killian spots him as the ideal contestant for The Running Man, a televised blood sport in which contestants must survive for thirty days while professional hunters pursue them with orders to kill. The prize: one billion dollars. But as the world watches and joins the chase, Ben quickly learns that this is a game no one is ever meant to win.
The screenplay for The Running Man is written by Michael Bacall and Edgar Wright, based on the novel by Stephen King (writing under his pseudonym Richard Bachman). The film stars Glen Powell, Josh Brolin, Jayme Lawson, Colman Domingo, William H. Macy, Michael Cera, Emilia Jones, and Katy O’Brian. It is directed by Edgar Wright.
Importantly, this is not a remake of the 1987 cult classic starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, though Arnold makes a cheeky, if entirely unnecessary, cameo. Instead, this version is a faithful reimagining of King’s 1982 novel. As such, Wright’s adaptation trades the campy, satirical tone of the original film for a darker, more grounded action drama. The social commentary on class inequality, media exploitation, and reality entertainment is far more pronounced here.
Wright himself feels a little less pronounced this time around, setting aside some of his trademark flair. The infectious fusion of music and kinetic cinematography that defined Baby Driver, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and Shaun of the Dead is noticeably muted. Perhaps it is intentional. This version of 2025 is so conceptually off-kilter and visually disorienting that Wright may have chosen restraint over rhythm, allowing the world’s bleak design and atmosphere to carry the weight.
Ben Richards is also reimagined. Rather than a former cop with combat training, this version of Richards is an ordinary, desperate man thrust into an extraordinary nightmare. He is understandably angry but also vulnerable and conflicted, making him more relatable and human than his 1987 counterpart. His rage feels earned, even when his actions do not always make sense.
As Richards navigates one death-defying escape after another, the film makes it clear that trust is a luxury he cannot afford. Allies prove unreliable, and even well-intentioned choices lead to disaster. Unfortunately, this contributes to the film’s main flaw: The Running Man wants to be a sharp social critique wrapped in an action thriller, but too often the characters’ decisions undermine that intelligence.
For example, Ben promises his wife he will audition for a safe game show, not The Running Man, knowing the show’s deadly reputation. Yet he is manipulated into joining the game with only mild persuasion from Killian (Brolin), and inexplicably agrees. When the game inevitably turns lethal, his outrage feels hollow. He knew better from the start.
That said, the film shines in its casting. Colman Domingo is mesmerizing as the show’s charismatic and incendiary host, Bobby T., a worthy modern counterpart to Richard Dawson’s iconic performance in the original. Josh Brolin, as ruthless showrunner Dan Killian, channels his inner Thanos to chilling effect, embodying a man who worships only one god: ratings. Their scenes crackle with tension and menace, easily the film’s highlights.
Glen Powell stretches beyond his “America’s sweetheart” image to play against type. While he gives a committed and physical performance, his clean-cut charm works against the raw grit the role demands. Ben Richards’ shifting morality and muddled motivations make it difficult for audiences to emotionally invest in his plight.
Rated R for strong violence, some gore, and language (though the absence of “brief nudity” in the rating seems questionable), The Running Man is not a friendly remake of a cheesy classic. It is a faithful, if uneven, tribute to King’s grim source material. Like this year’s other Bachman adaptation, it is missing a bit of heart, but it tries to make up for it with relentless action and style.
Grade: C