The Running Man

Directed by Edgar Wright, The Running Man follows Glen Powell’s Ben Richards as he reluctantly signs up for a deadly game show to provide for his family. Filmmaker Wright, working from his and Michael Bacall’s screenplay, delivers a progressively lackluster adaptation that does, at least, get off to a relatively promising start, as the picture kicks off with a stirring opening stretch that effectively establishes Powell’s hard-luck figure and the picture’s agreeably dystopian atmosphere – with the watchable vibe heightened by a blistering pace and Wright’s typically kinetic approach to the material. It’s clear, then, that The Running Man‘s descent into tedium is triggered by a woefully (and palpably) stagnant midsection rife with repetitive, unnecessary digressions, as much of this portion of the proceedings seems to involve Ben’s efforts at evading and battling his pursuers (in the dark, generally speaking) – to the extent that the entire midsection feels as though it could (and should) have been condensed into a single montage. By the time the predictably overblown and action-heavy climax rolls around, The Running Man has confirmed its place as a distressingly underwhelming endeavor in desperate need of some serious streamlining (ie 133 minutes is just absurd, ultimately).

** out of ****