A rare remake that’s superior to its predecessor, The Running Man excites, surprises, and entertains, with Powell’s adrenaline-charged performance and the weight of its sociopolitical themes leaving you on the edge of your seat.
If any film needed the remake treatment, then it was arguably 1987’s The Running Man. While the Arnold Schwarzenegger film boasts a terrific premise, it’s hampered by repetitive action scenes, underdeveloped characters and themes, and one-liners that are cheesy even by Schwarzenegger’s standards. A remake can capture the appeal and gravity of the premise more astutely while also offering a stronger entertainment factor. Edgar Wright’s 2025 reimagining succeeds on both fronts, making it one of the few remakes that improve on the original.
Based on Stephen King’s book of the same name and, incidentally, more faithful to the source material than the first film, the story is set in a totalitarian America. Obvious Trump 2.0 jokes aside, the masses are controlled by a corporation called The Network, who keep the public distracted by giving them dangerous entertainment that appeases their bloodlust. The most significant and most dangerous – ‘The Running Man’, is a month-long competition where competitors (runners) must survive being hunted by assassins (hunters) and outed by members of the public, who are active participants. The longer one survives, the greater the monetary rewards.
Glen Powell stars in Paramount Pictures’ “THE RUNNING MAN.”
Ben Richards (Glen Powell) is an out-of-work family man struggling for cash. With a sick child, an overworked wife (Jayme Lawson) and a fiery personality, Ben, as a last resort, signs up as a contestant for ‘The Running Man’. Initially, cautiously optimistic, Ben finds his character and life twisted to suit the game’s narrative at the behest of the quietly menacing producer, Killian (Josh Brolin). Thus, as Ben races to outwit those hunting him, he begins to wrestle with broader questions on morality, oppression and exploitation.
Edgar Wright is best known for his comedic pictures, but Hot Fuzz and Baby Driver alike demonstrate his underestimated knack for action, too. Wright maintains his signature flashiness with the eye-popping colours of the costumes and studio set pieces, using them to contrast with the grey, dystopian exteriors of his world, even as those exteriors get blown up, bulldozed, or shot to hell.
The setpieces look straight out of a modern Metropolis, yet are given just enough dazzle to be unmistakably Edgar Wright in their aesthetic. The picture is also borderline whiplash in its editing, with tracking cams and rapid cutaways keeping us with Ben as he flees his pursuers, and exterior shots and commentary from Running Man host Bobby (Colman Domingo) that heighten the scale of the action. The direction is electric, and the picture is alive with visual treats, with even some playful nods to the 1987 original for eagle-eyed viewers—the most obvious being that the currency features Schwarzenegger’s face, a particularly amusing touch.
The most potent theme in the film is the commodification of violence for entertainment. The original, for better or worse, was unashamedly an Arnie picture, which gave it bursts of fun but did little to tackle the deeper thematic resonance of the material. In portraying not just such a bleak, bare-bones world (of which the brutalist architecture of Glasgow, where the film was partially shot, adds to it wonderfully), but also a society of underpaid, underfed masses who crave escapism and someone to blame, Wright and co-writer Michael Bacall take no prisoners in their commentary.
Josh Brolin stars in Paramount Pictures’ “THE RUNNING MAN.”
Through the film’s action and storytelling, they scrutinise how sensationalised finger-pointing and widespread division are driven by the media and by the pushing of narratives by the wealthiest and most powerful in our society, which are becoming one and the same in the contemporary age. Such narratives keep the hungry, struggling proletariat divided, often at each other’s expense. Similar to movies like Sorry to Bother You, Wright and team showcase the subtle but deadly harm corporations can do by giving the desperate masses an outlet for their rage in the form of violent, often hypocritical, entertainment.
Glen Powell’s abundance of charisma is ideally suited not just to this dark underbelly but also to the rollercoaster thrills the premise unleashes. His suave embrace of the plot’s resulting chaos and intense action scenes gives him an effortless charm that’s magnetic on screen. More importantly, though, Powell’s mannerisms and moments of quiet do a lot to humanise Ben as a character. A well-meaning man who suffers from anger issues, Ben recognises the oppression of the dystopia around him but gradually becomes an active voice in ending totalitarianism as the picture unfolds. His evolution is believable and coated with empathy, with Powell discreetly expressing vulnerability underneath the grit.
Other standout performances include Domingo’s flamboyant Caesar Flickerman-esque turn as Bobby, and Brolin’s quiet expressions of power as a man so wealthy he no longer fears anything, until his proverbial tower of security begins to wobble. The likes of Emilia Jones and William H. Macy are either late entries or effectively extended cameos. Still, they bring their own touches of humanity to their characters, collectively strengthening the picture’s pro-solidarity and anti-oligarchy themes.
The darker tone differs from Wright’s previous efforts, save for Last Night in Soho, but it lends the picture a maturity, showing it takes its themes seriously as it investigates them. That doesn’t mean the film is devoid of Wright’s usual charms, however – the dynamic visuals burst with life, and the interactions between the characters are often as humorous as they are grounded in gritty realism. One particularly creative scene sees Michael Cera’s character kill a horde of Hunters with an electric floor and a water gun. The film isn’t afraid to be silly, with Powell’s oftentimes manic delivery of profanities and cynicism proudly mocking the desperation of the higher-ups’ attempts to cling to power. Still, its points of humour never come at the expense of intensity, action, or themes.
It’s a densely packed film, and that can come at its detriment at times. The climax, while thrilling in isolation, tries to cover too much ground in one go, resulting in an interesting but rushed twist involving Lee Pace’s character and perhaps one too many ominous speeches by Brolin. Roles like Cera’s could have been better developed, and while the action is much more varied and imaginative than its 1987 counterpart, this film also lacks the original’s concise pacing, with some action scenes running a bit too long.
Some will end up comparing this to The Long Walk, if only because both are Stephen King adaptations about dystopian futures that happened to come out in 2025. But whether compared to that or the 1987 original, Edgar Wright’s The Running Man powers through with suspense and excitement galore. A rare remake that’s superior to its predecessor, the film excites, surprises, and entertains, with Powell’s adrenaline-charged performance and the weight of the sociopolitical themes leaving you on the edge of your seat.
Those who crave the raw corniness of Arnie’s picture may, understandably, see this reimagining as pessimistic and bleakly photographed. But those seeking a stimulating source of popcorn entertainment may well find themselves sprinting into the cinema for The Running Man.
Follow Us