Edgar Wright’s “The Running Man” takes place in a future where entertainment studios have conglomerated into a monstrous monopoly that warps the news to serve their conservative agenda. It’s a movie about why that is very bad and should be stopped at all costs, even if it means resorting to violence. The fact that it’s released by Paramount plays like a punchline, and it’s unclear who’s getting punched. If it’s the studio, it’s not getting punched very hard. If it’s the audience, it stings a little. If it’s Wright, it’s a wallop, because it undermines his movie from the first production logo.
“The Running Man,” based on a novel by Stephen King (under his former alias Richard Bachman), was first adapted in 1987. That version starred Arnold Schwarzenegger as a soldier who was framed for war crimes, then gets thrown into a twisted game show where over-the-top gimmicky warriors with names like “Buzzsaw” and “Sub-Zero” hunt him for sport. If he wins he gets his freedom. He is, of course, not allowed to win. It’s an effective 1980s sci-fi spectacular — half serious, half absurd, all Schwarzeneggerian.
Wright’s version throws out the wrestling vibes — ironic, since wrestling is more popular than ever — and hews closer to King’s novel. Ben Richards, played by Glen Powell, can’t afford medicine for his sick, infant daughter, and can’t get work because he talked to a union. Once. For the sake of his wife and child, Ben applies to “The Network,” in the hopes of winning money on one of their exploitative game shows. He winds up on the “The Running Man,” where contestants run for their lives for 30 days. If he survives, he gets a billion dollars. If he dies, his family gets whatever prize money he accumulated before he was murdered on live television, for achievements like killing cops and other, Network-licensed hunters.
Powell is, if you hadn’t noticed already, a movie star. “The Running Man” confirms it. He brings sincerity and energy to any role he lands in, no matter how ludicrous the movie’s premise. As Ben Richards he’s an extremely angry man and his anger is warranted. He’s beaten down by corporate malfeasance and disillusioned by the American dream. He’s not a political animal but he’s aimed in that direction, so his accomplishments on the game show gradually take a revolutionary turn. Powell makes all the film’s contrivances look plausible, and brings humor to this dystopian world without winking at the camera. He’s not too good for this material, because he’s perfect for this material.
Nobody else in “The Running Man” has much of a character. It’s more of a movie about the national character. Josh Brolin doesn’t play a studio executive, he plays every studio executive, who balks at thematic messaging and long since gave up on scripted programming. Colman Domingo is every game show host, bringing star power to a genre designed to capitalize on the economic and social desperation of its audience. Lee Pace isn’t the lead professional hunter, he’s more like a conservative YouTuber, preening in his macho costume and taking pride in stoking the flames of violence.
You can learn a lot about a culture by their generic movie villains. Specifically, the ones in films where it’s “us” vs. “them,” since the assumption is everyone in the country opposes “them.” For decades our go-to “thems” have been Nazis, since fascism is bad and World War II was the last war Americans mostly feel good about, and zombies or robots, since they don’t have souls and you’re allowed to go hog wild with laser swords and chainsaws. In “The Running Man,” the “them” are monopolistic corporations and masked American law enforcement. Wright assumes you hate them and that you won’t mind if Michael Cera — who is in this movie, by the way — electrocutes them to death for giggles.
Of course, that’s a form of hypocrisy, isn’t it? “The Running Man” is a film about why using violence to further a political and economic agenda is wrong. It’s also a film where many people are killed to make a political point and earn money for the studio. Sure, they’re fictional people, and it’s all just a metaphor, but it’s a violent metaphor and it saps some of the strength out of “The Running Man’s” convictions.
If you set aside the complexities/failings/wonkiness of “The Running Man’s” messaging, you’re left with two thirds of a good action movie. Wright keeps the pacing brisk, since it’s about a man who’s running, and the action is thrilling until the third act, when the story runs completely out of steam. All the momentum shifts into a steady, looming doldrum that Wright — taking liberties with the novel’s ending — can’t bring to a satisfying conclusion.
“The Running Man” has a bizarre climax that probably felt clever in the writers’ room, but lands with a disorienting clunk. And no matter how hard Wright tries to bring it back together in the final moments, the damage is done. It starts strong. It middles strong. It ends badly.
Is “The Running Man” a successful movie? Not especially, but it’s largely entertaining and Powell is a dynamo. It’s easy to get caught up in all the righteous fury. But that righteousness fizzles when you realize that by supporting this movie, and its message of opposing monolithic entertainment companies that lay off their workers and manipulate the news, you’re just giving money to the movie’s villains.
