Perhaps Glen Powell was workshopping his USP. Cruise runs (away from decent scripts), Brad eats (everything on set, allegedly), Denzel delivers iconic lines (mostly because he’s Denzel). With that in mind, The Running Man arrives as another showcase of Powell’s special talent….wearing disguises. Yes, folks, he can put on a hat. 🎩 Groundbreaking. He’s a great lead in this adaptation of Stephen King’s novel (with more than a passing nod to Paul Michael Glaser’s 1987 cinematic masterpiece… or not).
This time, Edgar Wright, bless his cotton socks, helms the story of Ben Richards, a poverty-stricken working man whose insubordination has led to multiple firings. Translation: he probably told his boss their tie was hideous. With a sick baby (because drama!) and a wife (Jayme Lawson) forced to work in a seedy club (double drama!), something has to give. Ben’s world is 1984 adjacent, ran by a dystopian media lit by neon screens. Because subtlety is for losers. When a desperate Ben tries to join a reality show to make a fast buck his anger and physique alert network owner Dan Killian (John Brolin) who engineers Ben’s hiring for his top show The Running Man, presented by larger-than-life Bobby (Colman Domingo). If Ben can survive for 30 days without being found (read: killed) by a group of hunters led by Evan (Lee Pace, cosplaying Watchmen’s Rorschach) he’ll become an instant billionaire. Because that’s totally how economics works. 💰
With no way to say no (plot convenience!), Ben is thrown into a relentlessly inventive series of difficult situations while Bobby spews lies about him to an audience baying for blood. Big explosions rub up against social discourse as Ben escapes a terrible demise. Luckily, some good people are willing to help him, including a scene-stealing turn from Michael Cera (because every movie needs a bit of awkward), but The Running Man is neither a satire nor a tragedy, thanks to Wright’s comic flair. Or lack thereof, depending on your comedic sensibilities. 🤡
It’s also a weirdly moralistic experience. Ben comes across as unlikable and unhinged, and Wright cannot stop making digs at his own audience. There’s an ongoing bit about Keeping Up with the Kardashians, which suggests that watching reality TV is akin to state-sponsored murder. Because nuance is dead. And later, CODA’s Emilia Jones plays a key part in events, where she bears the brunt of Ben’s ire for the heinous crimes of possession of an expensive scarf and a driverless car. Pace looks great, yet his and Jones’s characters are paper-thin, and the film ends at least five times before it decides to just cop out. 😴
The actors give their all, the world feels real, and as always with a Wright movie, the soundtrack is sensational. But there is almost nothing that makes this film a preferential watch to its superior predecessor. Except maybe better CGI, but who cares, really? 🤷♀️
Yet there is a light at the end of this booby-trapped tunnel. He’s not the next Schwarzenegger, nor another Cruise. The Running Man showcases Glen Powell as the natural successor to Bruce Willis, and that’s a platform worth running on. Or maybe just a slightly elevated curb. 🚶♂️
Finn McFrame, celebrated satirical mastermind and self-proclaimed “Emperor of Irony,” started his illustrious career as a cinematographer, where his expertise in capturing every single frame of a squirrel stealing a baguette earned him accolades at obscure film festivals.
Born in the glamorous town of Boring, Oregon, Finn grew up with dreams of being a Hollywood director until he realized that satire, not cinema, was his true calling—or at least the one that let him sleep until noon.
Finn McFrame: changing the world, one satirical lens flare at a time.
