The fourth and possibly splashiest Stephen King adaptation of the year is now in movie theaters with The Running Man, a $110 million adaptation of King’s dystopian 1982 novel originally credited to Richard Bachman, his then-secret pen name. It’s got a great action-movie hook – in an authoritarian and economically stratified future, a man enters an insanely high-stakes game show where he’s hunted for sport all around the country and will receive $1 billion if he survives – that anticipated The Hunger Games, as well as all manner of reality TV hell. The book is even set in – wait for it – the year 2025! What could be a better time for the movie version than right now?
Well, maybe 1987? The Running Man has actually been adapted into a film before, and indeed, some will likely look at Edgar Wright’s new film as a remake of the old action movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. That movie, however, bears little resemblance to the characters, settings, or tone of King’s book, or Wright’s new film. It mostly just takes the premise, tinkers with it, and sets Schwarzenegger, then on the verge of supplanting Sylvester Stallone as the biggest action star of his day, loose through a gauntlet of cartoonish kills and dumb-funny one-liners. Wright’s movie is a better representation of the book and, despite its sci-fi trappings, a more grounded one, too. But the Arnold version has its charms, and it’s currently streaming on Paramount+.
Why Watch The Running Man (1987) Tonight?
Edgar Wright’s version of The Running Man is fun, especially in its first half, but it also takes its dystopian fascism seriously (to the extent that a big-budget Hollywood movie can truly attempt to take the side of the proletariat). The earlier Running Man, on the other hand, is a goofier and cartoonier affair, an unapologetic Arnold vehicle with satirical notes of Paul Verhoeven, who was busy making Robocop the same year, and would go on to do Total Recall with Schwarzenegger. Keep in mind that the actual director here is Paul Michael Glaser, whose other movies include the beloved ice-skating romance The Cutting Edge, the less-beloved Shaq comedy Kazaam, and a lot of TV. In other words: Not Verhoeven (although “I’d buy that for a dollar!” does accurately describe the type of store where you might find a copy of Kazaam). Certainly not in the neighborhood of Arnold’s most productive collaborator James Cameron, either, or his other 1987 vehicle, Predator.
But in the second tier of Schwarzenegger movies, this one rates pretty high. In fact, apart from his Cameron and Verhoeven movies, it beats just about everything else he made in the ’90s or ’00s. Its status as an Arnold movie sets proper expectations; it’s more inventive in its garishness than some of the generic cop/soldier stuff he was doing in the mid-‘80s. It also explains some of the dumber liberties taken with the story.
For example: As relatable as the novel’s original premise of a man risking his neck in order to better care for his family is, the 1987 Running Man conforms to the action movies of its day, insisting that a wrongfully-imprisoned-tough-guy narrative would be even better. ’80s action movies in particular loved to pump up Hitchcock-style frame jobs or wrong-man stories to steroidal levels, which is why Ben Richards is here refashioned as the One Good Cop who is arrested for refusing to kill desperate, hungry, unarmed rioters – and then framed for the massacre that does ensue when other officers follow orders. After a prison break, he and his new resistance buddies are recaptured and placed on The Running Man, the nation’s most popular game show.
It’s still a deadly form of gladiatorial combat, but this version of the show is confined to a sectioned-off corner of Los Angeles, more akin to a massive stadium than the full-country canvas of the newer movie. But this confinement allows the hunters sent after our men to be a lot noisier, videogamier and, frankly, more believable as outsized television attractions, with themed costumes, accessories, and names like Subzero (he kills with a sharpened hockey stick!) and Buzzsaw (take a guess). King’s book and Wright’s movie have more on their minds than this, but it’s still a neat ’80s-specific cultural touch to have the hunters so closely resemble action-figure versions of the slasher sequels that were reaching peak popularity in 1987.
The whole thing is presided over by real-life Family Feud host Richard Dawson, adding another layer of junk-culture satire as he interviews excited old ladies and bloodthirsty dudes in the studio audience. The 1987 Running Man takes aim at the totalitarian government only incidentally; they’re the villains, sure, but the frothing audience supporting the show and cheering for murder are loudly complicit. That’s true in Wright’s version, too, but it’s more explicit about how these people are being manipulated into their fandom. The ’87 honestly feels more like the filmmakers are extending some contempt to their potential audience of violence-watchers. It’s a blunter and nastier vision of the future, but not an invalid one.
Jesse Hassenger (@rockmarooned) is a writer living in Brooklyn. He’s a regular contributor to The A.V. Club, Polygon, and The Week, among others. He podcasts at www.sportsalcohol.com, too.
