When The Running Man was first published in 1982 under Stephen King’s Richard Bachman pseudonym, the United States was just beginning to feel the impacts of then-president Ronald Reagan’s neoliberal economic policies. Under Reaganomics, massive tax breaks for the wealthy and deep cuts to social safety programs like food stamps and Medicaid drastically intensified income inequality. The rich got richer, poverty spiked amid a recession, and King used his novel to explore the ways that those kinds of changes could turn society into a dystopia.
Aside from its title, character names, and core premise, Tri-Star’s 1987 adaptation of The Running Man starring Arnold Schwarzenegger was a very different kind of story: a big, bombastic send-up of ‘80s pop culture punctuated by appearances from professional wrestlers and jokes about Schwarzenegger being the world’s biggest action star. But that Running Man still worked as commentary about how grueling life can be for people who aren’t part of the one percent.
Paramount Skydance’s new spin on The Running Man from Edgar Wright splits the difference between the ‘80s film and King’s novel. It cleaves much closer to the source material while knowingly — but not always successfully — aping the older movie’s narrative tone. Though this Running Man leans into a kind of absurdity Wright typically thrives in, here, it feels like he’s holding back on a lot of the directorial panache he’s best known for from films like Hot Fuzz and Baby Driver. But as surprisingly formulaic as the new Running Man is, its ideas about living in a world shaped by surveillance tech and media empires controlled by ghouls feel especially pointed in 2025.
Set in a not-too-distant future where the United States has become an even more draconian police state, The Running Man centers on Ben Richards (Glen Powell), a blacklisted laborer who can’t find the work he needs to buy medicine for his sickly daughter. Though Ben’s wife Sheila (Jayme Lawson) is able to scrape enough money together to get her hands on drops that soothe their baby’s symptoms, they both know that the stuff isn’t enough to knock her flu out. Sheila’s willing to take on more waitress shifts at a seedy nightclub to make ends meet. But Ben would much rather she stay home while he makes some quick cash participating in one of the twisted game shows that airs on the state-owned Free-Vee Network.
Ben plans to sign up for one of Free-Vee’s less deadly shows like Speed the Wheel where contestants have to answer trivia questions while running on human-sized hamster wheels in order to avoid being flung off and down into a pit. But when Ben explodes in rage at a Free-Vee employee for mentioning his sick daughter, he catches the eye of Dan Killian (Josh Brolin), head producer of the network’s most popular show, The Running Man.
Some of the differences between Wright’s Running Man and its ‘80s big screen predecessor are readily apparent as soon as the new movie opens. This Richards is a blue collar family man instead of a military pilot imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit, and he’s from the fictional Co-Op City on the east coast rather than California. But the degree to which this new film is committed following the beats of King’s novel doesn’t become clear until Richards is dropped into the in-universe Running Man show.
To win the $1 billion competition, contestants have to go on the run while avoiding professional Hunters like Evan McCone (Lee Pace) and civilians who can earn cash prizes by alerting producers to runners’ whereabouts. The whole thing is like one big, deadly, televised (squid) game of tag where people watching at home are encouraged to participate. All Richards has to do is survive 30 days, which is much easier said than done.
Aside from a few promising needle drops in the film’s first act, there is very little of Wright’s signature storytelling flair throughout The Running Man. Instead, the movie plays things very straight — which isn’t to say that it’s boring or overserious — in a way that makes it feel like a throwback to classic ‘80s action movies. The Running Man moves at a breakneck pace as the contestants are tossed onto the street and given a 12 hour head start to figure out how they’ll survive. Some choose to let fate take the wheel while others play directly to the remote controlled drone camera figuring that becoming audience favorites might keep them alive. But Richards dons a series of ridiculous disguises to hide his identity, a detail that — even though it’s pulled from the novel — makes the character feel like a goofy riff on Powell’s role in Netflix’s Hit Man.
Between its cheesy dialogue and ridiculous commercial breaks for other fictional shows like the Kardashian-inspired Americanos, you can tell that The Running Man is being intentionally silly while commenting on our current moment in reality TV programming. The movie’s constant references to Free-Vee (not to be confused with Amazon’s defunct streaming service) being run by pro-authoritarian maniacs who use television to manipulate the public would be a whole lot funnier if the feature weren’t a Paramount Skydance production. That said, the way The Running Man presents surveillance entertainment and the content-ification of peoples’ lives as symptoms of a deeply screwed society makes it feel like Wright is cooking at least a little bit.
This Running Man does start to get somewhat lost as it races into its final act in a rushed flurry of over-the-top action sequences and detours into other locales from King’s larger, interconnected universe. But in a year that’s been flush with new King adaptations, this one manages to be a fun ride with something to say.
The Running Man also stars Colman Domingo, William H. Macy, Michael Cera, Emilia Jones, Katy O’Brian, Sean Hayes, David Zayas, and Debi Mazar. The movie is in theaters now.
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