Movie Review: The Running Man

There is not a lot in common between Edgar Wright’s The Running Man and Paul Michael Glaser’s 1987 The Running Man. Glaser’s film, which starred Arnold Scharzenneger in the titular role of Ben Richards, is a loose adaptation of Stephen King’s 1982 novel and is a film more concerned about meeting the needs of what a Schwarzenegger film is than actually adapting King’s novel. Wright’s film, on the other hand, is a very faithful adaptation of King’s novel. It takes liberties where necessary, but ultimately tells the same story, with the same structure and character beats.

But one area where Wright’s film and Glaser’s film are alike is their understanding of being a junk action movie. Wright’s film, like Glaser’s, is a perfect TNT or TBS afternoon movie. A movie that could run three or four times a week, and you can put it on and focus on it, or have it on as background noise and, somehow, enjoy it equally both ways. A movie that, if you’re slightly hungover, you will put on to turn your brain off and possibly take a nap during, but wake up to a pretty good movie and know what’s going on.

The Running Man takes place in the not-so-distant future. Ben Richards, played by Glen Powell, is a struggling citizen of Harding, a city divided by the wealthy and the poor. He can’t get a job, and he has a daughter who is sick and needs a real doctor. He joins a popular game show called “The Running Man”, where he must run and hide from hunters for 30 days to win a billion dollars. If he is caught, the hunters will kill him.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Powell playing the bittered Richards. Richards is a man who hates society and participates in “The Running Man” to support his family financially. Powell has made a name for himself with his All-American smile, charm, and ripped physique. He’s never played a character with this much anger, but he does a surprisingly great job. He still exudes his charisma, and his physique is front and center in several of the action scenes, but I bought into his hatred of his current society, his love for his family, and the desperation of Richards. It’s one of Powell’s best performances to date.

I’ve been a fan of Edgar Wright’s films since his 2004 breakout, Shaun of the Dead. He has a unique, kinetic style that is normally accompanied by a killer soundtrack. The Running Man does have a poppy soundtrack, but it isn’t nearly as electric as we’ve seen from Wright in the past. Much of the film’s energy comes from Powell’s performance rather than Wright’s filmmaking. There isn’t anything flashy or exciting about Wright’s direction, so much so that it felt more like it was directed by a journeyman director and not an exciting British auteur. Wright has his visual and story motifs, but none of them are present in The Running Man.

While Powell gives a rousing performance, and the film is a relatively strong adaptation of King’s novel, Wright’s stagnant direction hinders The Running Man from reaching its full potential.

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