The latest in a long line of recent adaptations of legendary author Stephen King’s work is the Glen Powell-starring, Edgar Wright-directed The Running Man.
Powell’s star has only continued to rise in recent years, with notable performances in the likes of Top Gun: Maverick, Hit Man, Twisters, and Anyone But You all placing Powell at the forefront of the industry, positioning him as a potential major player in Hollywood for years to come.
The Running Man then arrives at a time where it feels as if he’s ready to step into more leading roles and begin to carry films and, potentially even franchises, on his back. On paper, this film seemed, for all intents and purposes, to tick every box as a natural next step. An action movie with a renowned director and a supporting cast that could platform Powell into flexing his movie star chops in a major blockbuster. The sort of thing that could really give credence to the comparisons to his Top Gun: Maverick co-star Tom Cruise, perhaps allowing Powell to recapture that electrifying action feel that Cruise had made his own with the Mission: Impossible franchise, which certainly left a gaping hole when it concluded just earlier this year.
Something, however, just doesn’t feel quite right with The Running Man. What could’ve been one of the year's most electrifying spectacles instead turned out to be a safe, yet messy and disjointed disappointment, for which praise can go no further than being deemed watchable. And whilst “watchable” by no means translates to “bad”, it certainly isn’t what you’re hoping for from an ensemble as rich with talent as this one.
One of those incredibly talented individuals is, of course, director Edgar Wright, whose work on The Cornetto Trilogy, Baby Driver, and Scott Pilgrim vs. The World has established him as one of the most prominent filmmakers of his generation. Perhaps the biggest issue with his latest flick, however, is that you really wouldn’t even be able to tell that it’s one of his from watching it. Gone are the days of the genius comedic timing of a Hot Fuzz or even the high-octane, action-packed thrills of a Baby Driver. What we get instead is a final product that entirely lacks any sense of a distinctive style, feasibly being the work of any competent contemporary filmmaker. A massive shame coming from a director who has otherwise managed to stand out with a sharp and distinguishable style that has garnered him the reputation he carries.
The script, too, is a messy one, never managing to maintain a consistent tone or rhythm. This is perhaps most evident in Powell’s Ben Richards, who swings back and forth between the actor’s usual quick-witted, charismatic persona and a more frustrated, ultimately dull version of the character, one who falls victim to a script that isn’t particularly interested in exploring its political themes beyond the surface. This inconsistency holds Powell back from truly exploding into the role the way he could have, with the film only allowing us glimpses into his potential as a dynamic modern action star when it finally picks up the pace throughout its middle portion. Unsurprisingly, allowing our main character to truly be a man on the run makes for the most enticing section of the film, with Powell’s charisma oozing through the screen throughout.
Where The Running Man does manage to find some success elsewhere is through its supporting performances, with Colman Domingo, Michael Cera, and Josh Brolin all breathing life into the atmosphere whenever they’re on screen. The problem is, none of them are ever given enough time to really make a true mark on the narrative, with the film moving too fast for its own good, constantly needing to pivot from one character to another in order to keep up without ever fleshing them out enough to warrant the audience's attention. They end up feeling more like video game NPCs designed solely to move Richards’ story forward than being fully realised characters. Even Richards’ wife and child exist only to serve as motivation, disappearing for the vast majority of the runtime.
This all comes to a head in the final act, which depends almost entirely on a character that’s introduced as the conclusion is taking place, once again illustrating the script's incoherence and leaving a bitter taste in the mouth. This is only made all the more frustrating by the film spoon-feeding its messaging to the viewer, spelling out its anti-capitalist ideology as if it’s a complex or original theme that couldn’t possibly be understood by moviegoing audiences that have seen the same story repeated over and over again at this point.
Ultimately, it feels like The Running Man just got caught in two minds, unsure of whether it wanted to lean further into the thrilling action elements of the story or the dark, gritty political commentary that runs through so many King tales. The result sits awkwardly in the middle, never truly getting out of first gear and wasting what could’ve been a star-making performance for its leading man. Taking what King had to say all the way back in 1982 and dumbing it down for wider audiences who, according to the box office, went and saw Now You See Me: Now You Don’t instead anyway.
A disappointing entry into the filmography of Edgar Wright, who seems to be slipping further and further away from the magic that made so many of us fall in love with his filmmaking style in the first place. Here’s hoping The Running Man is just a blip in the road for both Wright and its starring performer Glen Powell who, along with the release of his television series Chad Powers, isn’t exactly having a movie star winter to remember.