There’s an unexpected moment, in Edgar Wright’s The Running Man, involving a priest and a would-be assassin. It comes so out of left field, and featuring some ridiculous dialogue that seems even more humorous in retrospect, that it stands out as perhaps the most successfully comedic moment of the movie. Too bad the rest of the film doesn’t exhibit a similar level of creative silliness. The Running Man, the second film adaptation of Stephen King’s novel of the same name, is a big and loud movie that is always obvious about what’s on its mind. But despite those big swings and loud emotions, the film rarely if ever makes you feel anything but apathy.
Glen Powell is at the center of this chaotic sci-fi flick, the project existing partially as a vehicle to further his A-list actor goals. Powell is fine here, he at least cares and turns in a committed performance. It isn’t a scene-stealing, carryjob, “this actor singlehandedly turned this C- movie into an B+” performance, like you’d expect from the big names that are Powell’s senior. That may be an unfair comparison, but it’s one that will come up with the lofty career goals Powell has. He, like Arnold Schwarzenegger in the 1987 adaptation, plays Ben Richards – an impoverished husband and father of one, who’s laid off from his blue collar job for attempting to talk to a union – and for his anger management issues. With barely any funds, and a sick young daughter in need of medicine, Richards desperately enters The Running Man – a game show where contestants must survive up to 30 days while being the target of a nationwide manhunt from the game’s appointed hitmen and regular citizens alike. This is where the film shows more fidelity to the novel than Schwarzenegger’s version; the latter limited the game to a finite set, whereas Edgar Wright’s film takes advantage of opening the characters up to the wider world, a’la the novel.
The more accurate depiction of the book’s premise is the film’s greatest strength. Wright has never lacked an eye for strong visuals and athletic camera work, and his adaptation is frenetic, a neverending fast-paced mix of comedy and action. But that strength is also up for an interesting debate – should a film like this, with grim themes about class and late-stage capitalism, be a ball-busting good time? I suppose you could argue that viewers don’t want to be depressed either, so I guess its a discussion of moderation and execution. The previous example above, involving the priest, is admittedly hilarious, but also sells a level of desperation from our characters. It’s a laugh that still comes to us within circumstances that are dark. The novel itself is especially grim & dystopian, but the filmmakers/producers here clearly don’t want to get that dark with the material, as it would potentially limit its appeal to mass audiences. A creative decision driven by money, but perhaps isn’t the sound artistic choice.
King’s book wasn’t just well-done dark sci-fi, but a finely constructed satire about greed, propaganda, and societal decay. Wright’s Running Man (perhaps not all his doing or within his control; he has people to answer to) dumbs down the source material, making it more palatable for a wider audience but subtracting the grit, honesty, and uncomfortable topics within. As a result, the film is a parade of cliches and overtly on the nose storytelling. Meanwhile, Glen Powell can’t afford medicine, but he has the chiseled physique of someone eating 4,000 calories a day with access to a personal trainer, not a moderately strong blue-collar worker performing menial tasks with his hands. Ben and his wife Sheila (Jayme Lawson) don’t feel like an authentic couple, even if both are initially likable, they feel like they just met on the set of a commercial. The plotline involving the medicine is book accurate, but presented with the subtlety of a Lifetime movie, too obvious as an attempt to pull on your heartstrings. The actors are fine, but their situations needed more authenticity to sell their dilemma as genuine, but the film’s depiction is cartoonish and makes you too aware that you’re being manipulated.
It’s an unfortunate realization, especially as you’re consistently reminded of how angry Richards is. That is accurate of the novel, and King himself has previously stated that he wrote the thing while he himself was an angry, frustrated young man. What’s interesting about Powell’s portrayal is that when he shows signs of being angry early on – you initially don’t buy it. He’s believable when playing nice and charming, but his angry face feels forced. But as the movie goes along, Powell comfortably steps into the mood of rage, validating his early scenes as successful depictions of a guy trying to hold back his anger. It’s very good work from him. Yet, the book does a better job of coloring in why he’s so angry, showcasing the rage-inducing toxic environment that he is forced to live in. Ben Richards is no saint and can be a mean guy, but his persona is a consequence of a populace that is neglected and exploited, and who indulge their worst impulses to deal with this frustration. It’s just a different type of world-building, and Wright’s world-building is more sanitized and corporate.
Sure, the adaptation carries many of the same themes of rich vs poor. But those themes don’t carry the same weight, the characters lose much of their edge, and the things that were redacted are replaced with a more jovial tone that is sometimes out of place. Perhaps The Running Man is a victim of this premise being more ubiquitous in media, as opposed to when the novel debuted and the concept was much more fresh. The Running Man (1987), the Arnie one, was a solid B movie of its time. But films like Battle Royale (2000) and The Hunger Games (2012) have far surpassed it, while still maintaining an authentic depiction of the themes of those films’ source materials. The novel this film is based on is one of the early influences of this subgenre, but Wright’s film is late to the proverbial party, and discouraged to engage the more controversial moments and depictions of the book, resulting in a story that unsurprisingly fails to do its premise justice on a narrative front.
Sure, the action is there, things blow up, jokes are made. Someone who’s only attracted to this premise because they like the idea of the open-world manhunt will likely have a good time watching this. But if you actually care about what the movie is talking about, what it’s about and what it has to say, the generic communication of the novel’s themes is absolutely a drawback to the film’s potential. Absolute fidelity to a novel isn’t totally necessary, and isn’t even always possible, but the changes you do make will compell a comparison to see how both works handled each idea. Some works make changes that, with the benefit of hindsight, can improve upon what its adapting. And then there are other choices that simply degrade the adaptation, removing something meaningful from the source, but replacing it with empty calories.
The Running Man is based on a story that has something important on its mind – a well done metaphor and sociological study of modern life. But this adaptation doesn’t say anything meaningful, its declarations are generic platitudes that are just populist enough without stepping out of line. Many of the words are the same, but they aren’t said with the same inflections, emotions, or power. Which means King’s book is more right than he could have ever wanted it to be.
