The Running Man

by Mike McGranaghan

A funny thing about movies is that you sometimes remember almost nothing about them, even if you liked them. Heading into Edgar Wright’s new take on the Stephen King novel The Running Man, I realized my only true memory of the original was that Richard Dawson played the host of a TV game show that required Arnold Schwarzenegger to avoid being killed for thirty days. Details of the plot beyond just the basic premise? Nope. This despite having seen the film at least twice. Wright doesn’t do anything that will make this version any more memorable down the road, but like original director Paul Michael Glaser, he’s made an action flick that goes down easily enough.

Ben Richards (Glen Powell) is poor. Dirt poor. Too poor, in fact, to afford the medicine his sick baby daughter needs. Against the wishes of his wife Sheila (Jayme Lawson), he auditions for one of a major television network’s exploitative reality shows. Network exec Dan Killian (Josh Brolin) puts him on “The Running Man,” hosted by the flamboyant Bobby T. (Colman Domingo). If Ben can avoid the show’s hunters for thirty days, he’ll snag a billion dollars. The catch is that the public can either rat him out or, if they like him, provide assistance.

This set-up allows the movie to be a big, long chase. At first, Ben simply tries to hide in a seedy hotel. That proves unsuccessful, leading to shootouts, fistfights, a vehicle chase, and a brutal battle on board an airplane. Oddly, Wright doesn’t bring many of the quirky visual flourishes that typified previous efforts like Shaun of the Dead and Baby Driver. The action scenes are nevertheless energetically staged, with Powell convincingly making his way through them.

Powell is obviously a much different physical presence than Schwarzenegger. He works in the role because he’s athletic, but also because he gives Ben an inherently pissed-off quality. This guy is angry enough about his predicament to allow spite to drive him. As the show’s host, Domingo is able to escape the “stunt casting” of Richard Dawson and create an actual character. Portraying Bobby T, the actor turns show-biz glitziness into something that feels malicious. He’s the love child of Ryan Seacrest and Anton Chigurh.

The film grows fairly silly in the third act, especially once Ben enlists a young woman named Amelia (played by CODA’s Emilia Jones) into his cause. This is the section where double-crosses and plot twists overshadow the idea of a lone man fleeing for his life. In an anticlimactic choice, we’re told what happens during a major event rather than being allowed to see it for ourselves. Ostensibly it’s to ramp up suspense, although how it unfolds is, frankly, on the stupid side.

Such flaws ding The Running Man without fatally damaging it. The action is fun, there are plenty of comedic moments, including ones provided by Michael Cera as a guy with very personal reasons for helping Ben, and the satire of reality television has bite. Glen Powell’s screen charisma is a plus, too. Arnold should be proud to pass the torch to him.

---