Edgar Wright’s “The Running Man” is the complete antithesis of the 1987 film. Where the original was cheap, loud and proudly shallow, this version swings in the opposite direction: polished, expensive, heavy on world-building and determined to treat King’s novel with a kind of seriousness.
That ambition comes with a price. With an extra 40 minutes added to the runtime, the film loses its spark before we ever see any of the action.
Glenn Powell delivers a committed performance, but not one that makes sense for the story. He remains an unconventional fit for a full-scale action lead. His work matches the film’s tone, though the script occasionally pushes him into moments that sit slightly out of sync with the broader narrative.
He never feels tense or emotional. Even when he’s clearly angry, his facial expressions are too stale for a convincing delivery. He’s certainly no Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he didn’t fit into the role either. It’s understandable why Powell was picked for the job, but the role demands someone with more heart and empathy, something more than just a chiseled body.
It’s unfortunate, but it never feels like Powell has any compassion in what he was doing. King’s story puts an emphasis that Richards would never kill unless he was forced to. This fact is shown only briefly in Wright’s version, even though it’s an immensely important part of Ben Richards’ character.
The reluctance to kill is still there, but it doesn’t have as much weight as it does in King’s story. It’s almost as if it’s thrown in as a plot point because it was too important not to. It’s a good summary of the entire film. It’s loyal to the story… until it doesn’t want to be.
Wright also updates the original’s humor, expanding Arnold’s one-liners into brisk, modern quips. This approach lands with charm in some scenes and feels forced in others, as if the film isn’t entirely confident in its own tone. Michael Cera’s entire character is simply comic relief. The actual plot progresses more as soon as his side story is interrupted. It’s completely confusing. The movie is a tonal mess that wavers between earnest sci-fi and self-aware spectacle.
There is more story here, and more intention, which make this a stronger adaptation than the 1987 film. However, being a stronger adaptation doesn’t automatically translate to being a stronger film.
The backstories quickly pile up, characters appear and disappear without meaningful impact, and the pacing stalls whenever the film pauses to justify throwing some other wrench or rule into the plot. Moments of energy break through, but the drag between those sparks is noticeable.
The final act attempts the film’s largest jolt. But its abrupt shift into a completely different form of storytelling to explain how the film ended in an annoying meta way, only to just show us the end of the film anyways, will give you literal whiplash. It is the most awkward way to end a film at such a massive climax in the plot. The worst part is that this is one of the only times the film truly feels like an Edgar Wright movie, yet at that point it simply does not fit.
Ultimately, “The Running Man” (2025) settles firmly into “whatever” territory. The ideas are strong, but the cast isn’t committed. The adaptation aims higher than its predecessor, yet the execution never fully aligns with the ambition.
It remains the superior adaptation because it genuinely strives for something more sophisticated, even if it rarely finds a consistent rhythm. When the film’s electricity hits, it charges forward. But when the current fades, every minute of the runtime weighs heavily.
