Before Edgar Wright’s The Running Man even begins, there’s an unavoidable comparison to be made. While Stephen King’s 1982 novel (written under his Richard Bachman pseudonym) was a bleak, adrenaline-charged story, the 1987 Arnold Schwarzenegger film flipped that narrative into a neon-soaked spectacle that turned dystopia into prime-time entertainment. Wright’s take, however, follows King’s novel closely — removing the over-the-top camp that made the ’87 version so iconic. The result is a film that’s intellectually faithful, visually slick, and thematically loaded.
In other words, Wright’s Running Man is more cerebral than explosive. Instead of a blood-sport arena, the story unfolds across a fractured America where the gap between the wealthy elite and the exploited poor has become an unbridgeable chasm. The entertainment value this time isn’t in the physical hunt, but in how the Network manipulates perception by broadcasting propaganda as truth. This approach, while ambitious, means the film lacks the kinetic energy fans might expect. The tension is there, but it’s quieter, driven more by ideology than by spectacle.
That’s especially apparent in how often Wright interrupts the momentum to show Ben Richards recording messages for “The Running Man” (a requirement by the show). Additionally, the film has modernized clips that mimic YouTube commentary, which serves as exposition. They’re smart in concept, but they also disrupt the film’s rhythm. Each cutaway halts the flow just as the story builds steam, creating a stop-start pacing that might frustrate those hoping for the relentless chase promised by the title.
The Running Man trades spectacle for substance, delivering a sharp, timely adaptation truer to Stephen King’s original vision.
Still, Wright’s thematic accuracy deserves credit. The film doesn’t just adapt King’s warnings about state control and mass media but amplifies them. The messaging is blunt, at times almost too on-the-nose, but undeniably potent. It’s an unsettling mirror of modern society, and Wright refuses to let the audience look away. The film’s stylistic flourishes drive home the idea that everyone’s watching, and everyone’s complicit.
The real MVP, though, is Glen Powell. As Ben Richards, Powell sidesteps the hardened hero archetype and instead delivers a grounded, emotionally resonant performance. His natural charm softens the character’s edges, making him easy to root for and genuinely sympathetic. You feel his exhaustion, his moral clarity, and his desperate will to survive — not just for himself, but for a world that’s long stopped caring. Where Schwarzenegger’s Ben was a one-man revolution, Powell’s is just a man trying to tell the truth in a system built to erase it.
Overall, The Running Man may not be the thrill ride some expect. Still, it’s a sharp, sobering reflection on how entertainment, propaganda, and surveillance have blurred into the same feed. It trades spectacle for substance, muscle for message. Now, although that might leave adrenaline junkies wanting, it gives King’s original vision the relevance it’s always deserved.
Rating: 3/5 atoms
The Running Man hits theaters on November 14th.
