Stephen King has a writing style that is cinematic, so no wonder he is the second author in history with the most film adaptations (only behind William Shakespeare and just above Agatha Christie). British director Edgar Wright tackles a book from 1982, which is set in a dystopian future. A popular television show offers a lucrative prize provided the contestants can survive 30 days fending off foes. Ben (Glen Powell), mindful of the medical bills that need paying off, agrees to sign up, pushing himself to the limits in front of a gleeful audience.
Wright’s record with comedian Simon Pegg, who starred in zombie-classic Shaun of the Dead (Edgar Wright, 2005) and sequel Hot Fuzz (2007), is superlative, but he’s often struggled to re-capture that magic elsewhere. The Running Man is no exception. Caught in the adrenaline of the work, the director forgets to build on character or suspense, letting the special effects do the heavy-lifting.
The source material wasn’t admittedly the strongest, but Powell fails to draw people in as the hero putting himself through unimaginable torment for the sake of his family. He barely distinguishes himself in the role, presiding as the rugged hunk that has festooned cinema since the 1970s. Josh Brolin is similarly miscast as the waspish Dan Killian, presenting himself as a cuddly foe, rather than an Orwellian ubermensch. Where Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz cast lesser known names to fill out the impressive ensemble -Dylan Moran, Julia Davis, Billie Whitelaw – The Running Man is guilty of casting A-listers, even though they’re unsuited for the roles in question.
Worse, the dialogue is fairly dire in spots. “Have you ever wondered if the game is rigged?” one person inquires, with the conviction of an amateur dramatist. King was never the master of dialogue, or drama, but his books are a launching pad for writers to expand and dot with poetry. Instead, the words come fast, dumbing down the wonder of the English language for plodding rejoinders.
Wright tones down the rapid-cuts of his oeuvre, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing as the work is brash and loud enough as it is. Many of the visual effects are dazzling, especially one set piece shot out in the woods. But like so many action features, the stunts come at the expense of character build-up. The Running Man, bafflingly, makes no concentred comment about the incumbent Trump presidency; for better or worse. The modus operandi of great science fiction is to cast a mirror on contemporary society, but there is virtually none to be found here.
Mercifully, Colman Domingo’s Bobby provides some much needed gallows humour. He plays the moustache twirling television host, channelling Freddie Mercury’s impishness with Terry Wogan’s quick wit. Bobby camps it up while the others are po-faced and hopelessly earnest. Tonally, The Running Man is a serious, turgid affair, even more so than the source material which rippled on gags and chuckles.
Wright is English, and his past triumphs utilised Hollywood tropes in a pastoral British backdrop. Here, he tries to be American in display and outlook, coming across as a charlatan. Little of the film feels genuinely authentic, driven by a writer/director emulating a culture he doesn’t entirely understand.
Whether or not he reunites with Pegg isn’t the point, but Wright could do worse than return to his homeland for a followup feature. The Running Man has him on auto-pilot, directing in a style guided by form, not instinct. Twelve-year-olds will get a kick out of the work, given the turbo-charged pacing, but for virtually anyone in adulthood, it’s all been done before, and better (by Wright himself even).
The Running Man is in cinemas on Friday, November 12th. Also showing at the 29th Tallinn Black Nights (with Pegg attending the event). In Sky and NOW on Thursday, January 1st.
