My Apple Watch Registered More Action Than This Film
In the remake of The Running Man, we’re treated to a darker more socially reflective dystopia. However, director Edgar Wright seems to have misplaced a critical component: Fun.
Glen Powell, typically cool and likable, struggles in the lead role of Ben Richards. His performance veers into over-the-top territory without the magnetism to anchor it as he oscillates between angry and confused throughout the 2hr 13m run time. Then there’s his physique, which isn’t just ripped—it’s aggressively ripped. I half-expected his abdominal muscles to have their own subplot. Ironically, his hyper-chiseled physique, clearly a nod to Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Mr. Olympia days, feels more like a distracting caricature than a homage. Schwarzenegger at the height of his action hero stardom had an alluring, if not wacky, screen presence that could make even the most absurd scenarios captivating. It’s as if this film tried too hard to replicate Arnold’s iconic presence while missing what truly set Arnold apart.
As the film tries to get deep (real deep,) busily reflecting on society’s downfall it forgets the golden rule of dystopian action flicks: Ridiculous pleasure! Where are the over-the-top action sequences? The outrageous stunts? The moments that make you say, "This is so dumb... but I love it"? Instead our remade Ben Richards runs and hides. Then he runs some more: kinda like Orwellian parkour with none of the cool flips. Add in a Home Alone-esque scene and I could feel my disappointment awaken. On the bright side Coleman Domingo shows up as reliable as ever probably wondering how he ended up in this bleak treadmill of a movie. Nevertheless, his gravitas can’t match Richard Dawson’s portrayal as the game show host in the 1987 original which exuded the perfect mix of sinister appeal and unadulterated humour.
In the end, The Running Man feels like a well-constructed machine missing a vital cog. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what’s absent but it boils down to an intangible essence. Perhaps it’s best described as a gleeful energy, a vitality that made the ’80s sci-fi genre so enjoyable to begin with. Without it this remake feels like a melancholy jog. Yes The Running Man runs, but without the fun what’s it running to?