The Running Man returns (Again): Mark Kermode’s scifi movie review (video).
Edgar Wright has finally delivered his long-teased dream project: a brand-new adaptation of Stephen King’s The Running Man. And yes, before you ask, this one is meant to be faithful to the novel rather than a remix of the 1987 Schwarzenegger cheese-platter. To accompany the release, we’ve embedded Mark Kermode’s review above, because nothing pairs with a dystopian nightmare quite like the nation’s favourite quiff dismantling a blockbuster with surgical joy.
The 2025 version stars Glen Powell as Ben Richards, who swaps the neon-codpiece bravado of Arnie for something far grittier, sweatier, and faintly more plausible. This time, Richards isn’t just a muscly bloke shouting “I’ll be back” into a wind tunnel. He’s a desperate father in an America where healthcare is optional, corporations rule the roost, and reality television has evolved into an unhinged murder lottery. So, basically… tomorrow.
Edgar Wright directs with his usual sugar-rush precision, giving us a world where every TV screen shouts, every drone hovers ominously, and every network executive looks like they’re powered by pure spite. Josh Brolin pops up as Dan Killian, the slick producer of “The Running Man,” the world’s favourite televised bloodbath. Lee Pace is the masked hunter Evan McCone, stalking the shadows like a man who has Googled “how to become unsettling.” And Colman Domingo smirks his way through the proceedings as Bobby T, a host so charismatic you can practically smell the contractually obligated veneers.
The plot ricochets across America as Ben tries to survive 30 days while being hunted by state-approved psychopaths, gossip-hungry civilians, and the kind of televised cruelty that would make Love Island blush. There’s underground activism, deepfake hijinks, propaganda galore, and one very ill-advised buggy chase that feels ripped from a fever dream after eating too much late-night pizza.
Wright has fun with it, of course. Explosions arrive with impeccable comedic timing. The action set-pieces are choreographed like music videos that accidentally stumbled into a riot. Even the bleak bits shimmer with a sort of gallows entertainment—classic Wright, really. Think Hot Fuzz meets a collapsing democracy.
The cast is undeniably stacked. Michael Cera wanders in as an earnest underground rebel, which feels exactly right; Daniel Ezra provides moral backbone as Bradley, the hacktivist; and Emilia Jones gets to play the civilian who discovers that maybe—just maybe—state-sanctioned assassinations aren’t wholesome family entertainment. And in a delicious nod to the original film, Arnold Schwarzenegger makes a cameo as the face on the new $100 bill. As subtle as a rocket launcher, but we appreciate it.
Reviews so far? Mixed. Which is unsurprising: some fans wanted a full-fat nostalgia reboot; others wanted a bleak King-purist adaptation; instead, Wright delivered a caffeinated political satire wearing the coat of an action thriller. Personally, here at SFcrowsnest, we’re always happy when Hollywood remembers that dystopia should sting just a little.
So, before you dash off to buy popcorn, hit play on Mark Kermode’s review embedded above. If anyone can tell you whether this Running Man is sprinting, jogging, or wheezing slightly after climbing a moral staircase, it’s the good doctor of film himself.
And remember: in the future, the revolution will be televised. Mostly because it gets better ratings.
