THE RUNNING MAN. Get Swept Up in the Spectacle

In 1982, Stephen King published—under a pseudonym—a novel he wrote in a single week: The Running Man, the story of Ben Richards, a man living in a dystopian America who takes part in a futuristic, bloody TV show to earn money for his family. The book was well received enough to attract Hollywood’s interest, and just five years after its release, a film adaptation starring Arnold Schwarzenegger hit theaters. It was, however, a very loose adaptation of the original, with Richards portrayed as the sort of character Arnold typically played: indestructible, unstoppable, tossing off one-liners and plowing through enemies like a battering ram.

That didn’t stop the film from becoming a success, and fans of the Austrian Oak and/or ’80s action cinema with a dash of sci-fi will still have a good time with it. I myself belong to both groups and still enjoy revisiting the 1987 The Running Man.

Stephen King, however, never liked Paul Michael Glaser’s version (yes, the actor who played Starsky in Starsky & Hutch). He argued that Arnold’s Richards was as far removed from his literary protagonist as possible. Edgar Wright extended a helping hand a few years ago, saying he wanted to take on the book and bring it to the screen again, this time sticking much closer to the source material. The director’s style—with its dynamic, signature camera work—promised an energetic spectacle, and a solid budget ($110 million) guaranteed the right level of bombast.

The film does indeed follow the novel and, in line with Wright’s intentions, gives us a faithful adaptation. There’s plenty of action here, flavored with social commentary and biting satire aimed at media obsessed solely with viewership numbers. And this is precisely where the biggest problem of the 2025 The Running Man (also the year in which the book’s story takes place) emerges. The filmmakers tried to give audiences two different movies in one: a popcorn blockbuster with all the usual tricks, and at the same time a dark, violent dystopia depicting a stark divide between rich and poor, where brutal entertainment satisfies the basest instincts of the mindless masses. This collage doesn’t quite work. As a result, The Running Man ends up somewhat stuck in between—Wright’s critique of how easily public moods can be manipulated doesn’t fully land, and the mix of entertaining action and weightier themes sometimes comes apart at the seams. Paul Verhoeven’s films handled this terrain more successfully.

The protagonist played by Glen Powell also has two faces—on one hand, he’s a positive hero who occasionally cracks a joke and pushes forward with his daughter’s name on his lips; on the other, he’s an angry anarchist struggling to contain his rage. In the end, The Running Man leans more toward an action film, with its “important” themes attached almost as an afterthought, shown only enough to justify the next dynamic sequence. A genre standard—but delivered with charm.

It must be said, though, that overall this is a solid production that doesn’t bore and keeps you engaged for over two hours. Richards’ journey is tense and easy to root for, even though his fight against the enforcers of a media corporation seems hopeless from the start. There’s also no point nitpicking details like how a guy from the slums—barely making ends meet and unable to afford medicine for his sick daughter—somehow has dazzlingly white teeth and a perfectly sculpted physique. That’s not a flaw, it’s a feature of mainstream entertainment. Instead, it’s better to get swept up in the spectacle and enjoy Richards’ many escapes—the film certainly isn’t short on set pieces.

I do have some issues with the ending. While I really like the ideas the writers introduce in the finale—and one could debate whether a slightly different resolution might have served the story better—the epilogue that follows the tense climax feels a bit too fast and somewhat chaotic. I wouldn’t have minded if the conclusion were lengthened a bit and told in more detail.

It’s also worth touching on the inevitable comparisons to the Arnold version. The truth is, you can’t really compare the 1987 Running Man with the 2025 one. They are two entirely different films, and the earlier adaptation takes from the novel only the general concept. It’s better to simply enjoy the fact that this story has now been told in two such different ways. In several moments, you can sense that Wright drew inspiration from Glaser’s film—his Running Man is a blend of the original novel and the previous cinematic approach to King’s story, with a clear edge given to the former.

I left the cinema satisfied. Not blown away, because the director didn’t quite push the pedal to the floor, but entertained, unbored, and genuinely interested in the story. I’m not sure whether the new The Running Man will enter the pantheon of classics—that remains to be seen—but I do hope Glen Powell makes the most of his moment. The camera likes him, and he has enough charisma to carry more than one blockbuster on his shoulders.